Page 22 of Now and Forever

“We’ll always be your family.”

I sat on the edge of the tub. “But Dario will be my new family, now and forever. What if we have children?” When Mireya didn’t answer, I continued, “They’ll be famiglia. If we have sons, they’ll grow up to be like Dario. If I stay loyal to Patron, I’ll be disloyal to Dario.”

Mireya shook her head and leaned against the wall. “It’s a lot.”

“Or I’m borrowing worries because I don’t want to think about tonight.”

“You said he was nice. Do you think he’ll force you?”

I shrugged my shoulders, knowing I didn’t need to be forced. I was anxious but ready. Then again, I wasn’t certain. “Is it force when you’re married?”

“Yes,” she said without equivocation. “Rape is rape. Didn’t Em say Dario hurt one of the whores at Wanderland?”

“Last night Dario swore I’d be safe.”

“From others or from him?”

It was a good question, one to which I didn’t have the chance to respond.

Mama opened the door. “Girls, we have beauticians waiting.”

Massages were first on the schedule. There were already numerous tables set up around the room. Camila, Mia, Sofia, and Giorgia were already being treated. Mireya and I took the two remaining tables. After waxing my legs and under my arms, the technician asked me about between my legs.

Her question brought back my unease. “Do you know what your fiancé prefers?”

I had no idea what he preferred.

“Men like it bald,” Mia volunteered. “No hair in their mouths.”

The room filled with nervous giggles as the heat built in my cheeks.

“Bald?” the technician asked, looking at me.

I shook my head, remembering Dario’s comment about not wanting to marry a child. “I think trimmed.”

The woman smiled. “We can do that and shape it into a heart.”

Camila gave me wide eyes.

My voice was barely a whisper as the coffee churned in my stomach. “A heart. Perfect.”

Less than two hours before the wedding, our makeup and hair were done. Mine had been teased, twisted, and styled into a regal top bun, perfect for my headpiece and veil. Aunt Maria entered with my wedding dress. Mama and I had shopped at the finest boutiques. Patron had told Papá to spare no expense.

The only preference Dario had told me was the color. My dress was white as snow, with a flowing skirt and chapel-length train—perfect for a garden wedding, a sweetheart neckline, a shape-forming bodice, and a long line of pearl buttons going down my spine.

As everyone helped me into the dress, Mia said, “It’s a shame Dario is going to cut that dress.”

“What?” I asked, turning to my future sister-in-law, horror in my expression.

“You didn’t know?”

I defensively crossed my arms in front of the bodice. “What do you mean, cut it?”

“Oh yes,” Giorgia said. “It’s an old tradition. They use one of the blades that they carry. It’s very romantic.”

“Romantic?” Camila retorted. “It’s savage.”

I’d had an idea of Dario unbuttoning the back, button by button, slow and steady, maybe even accompanied by hefty words of anticipation. The thought of him cutting my dress from my body never entered my mind.

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