Page 25 of Karrington

“I’ve enjoyed my time with you,” I started, swirling my straw around my drink. “Thank you for this. I know you’re busy, so I appreciate you making the sacrifice.”

“It’s not a sacrifice to please and prioritize you. You’re my wife.” Blushing, I took another sip of my drink. “I know that’s not what’s on your mind though,” he continued. “Just like you can read me, I can read you.”

“I was just wondering if you’ve started to shut down because we’ll be leaving soon. It seemed like we both started to come out of our shelves over the last couple of days but you’re going back into yours.”

Karrington sat back in his seat. “This time with you has been bittersweet. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you, but I’m conflicted. It’s showing me why arranged marriages work for our lifestyle, but I still can’t overlook the damage that has been done in my life because of them. Not to mention the fact that not everyone will be as lucky as we are.”

“What have you lost?” When he finished telling me about the life he planned to live as an artist with his ex, I ached for him. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to plan a life and watch it vanish before your eyes.

“I know I should have told her who I was from the beginning, but I couldn’t.”

“I mean, that’s not exactly a first date conversation topic.”

He smiled like I hoped he would. “No, it isn’t, but still. I should have told Lulu. I didn’t because a part of me knew she wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That’s what’s driving the conflict.”

“How so?”

Karrington took my hand into his. “It seems like you might be perfect for me. Or at least the perfect partner for the life I’ve chosen to live. That truth makes me want to keep arranged marriages in place but…”

“Everyone won’t have the luck we’ve had.” He nodded. “That’s a tough spot to be in, baby.”

“Yeah, I know. And the more time we spend together, the closer I get to you, the more I fear losing you too. I know that’s probably paranoia from losing Pops but if something were to happen to you because of this, because of me—”

“I don’t want you even thinking about that, but I know that’s easier said than done.” He nodded his agreement. “So that’s why it seems like you’re hot and cold… because even though you like me, you don’t really want to?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Some days I want to give us a real chance and others I want to stay away from you.”

While I was glad to finally know why he’d been moving the way he was, knowing the truth didn’t exactly make me feel better. “Well, you’ll have to let me know what you decide.”

“How do you feel about what I said?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink.

“I get where you’re coming from. I hate that you don’t feel comfortable enough to be a practicing artist because of your role in the organization. And I get the loss of your love and your father. Though I have both parents, I’ve lost a lot of close family members and even two friends, so I get your hesitation. But… I do like you, Karrington, and I hope we can have a real marriage. If not, I understand.”

“I’m sure this isn’t how you saw our honeymoon ending…”

“It’s fine. I appreciate us being able to have a conversation like this.”

We finished eating in silence before going back to the residence. While I wished I had the confidence in us I had when we first got here, I could admit the space we were now in was better. It was raw and honest, and a part of me still believed it would lead to us having a happy, healthy marriage.

15

Karrington

July

A month had passedsince our honeymoon, and we hadn’t spent any time together. We barely talked. I could blame it on work, and though that was partly true, it wasn’t all of it. Eyela was an indirect reflection of one of the things I hated most about the mafia. Enjoying time with her, getting close to her, it felt like I was betraying my principles. Regardless of what was going on between us, when I was home, she would play. I think she did that because she knew it would make me come to her, whether we talked or not. Whether that was the case or not, I’d always come.

As soon as I heard her on the harp, it put me in a trance. My feet made their way to her music room without my permission. She looked beautiful in a pink mini dress that puffed out at the bottom. Her hair was flat ironed and covering the side of her face. Ankle bracelets on both ankles made me want them on my shoulders. She always sat and walked on her tip toes when shewasn’t wearing heels. Tonight was no different. Her feet were just as gracefully poised and arched as her posture.

She stopped playing and looked at me.

“Play,” I demanded, and it was the first word I’d spoken to her all week.

Her head tilted and she eyed me intently. After tugging her thumbs for a few seconds, she moved from the harp to her grand piano. The moment she began to play, my eyes closed. There was healing in her hands… her fingers. Every time she played the piano, Eyela soothed me. Each key stroked felt like a tap against my heart that brought it back to life. I may not have wanted to marry her, but God looked out for me by blessing me with her.

My eyes watered as I listened to each chord. Had I not experienced her, I wouldn’t have believed there was healing power in music. When she played, it was like she provided a safe space for me to hurt, to heal, to feel, to grieve. Though I didn’t cry, I did get emotional every time. She made me grieve my art and feel jealousy over her having hers. She made me grieve Luna Ray and feel grateful that I had Eyela. She made me grieve my father and feel pride that he trusted me to carry on his legacy. All the things I didn’t give myself permission to express vocally, she filled me with emotionally when she played.

She played for two hours, and by the time she was done, I felt empty of everything that consumed me. Standing, I muttered a quick thank you before making my way outside.

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