“Father Marcus is going to say a prayer over our family and then we can begin the funeral planning.” Mikonos said to me and for a moment, it freaked me out how quickly yet quietly he moved towards me for a man his size.
“Father Marcus? His name isn’t Bishop?” I was very much confused.
“We,” he motioned to the room. “Call him Bishop but you call him father Marcus.”
I nodded to that and just watched as I was initiated into a damn mafia that I didn’t say yes to. Andres sayingCosa Nostramade me think about something… didn’t that mean somewhere it traced back to Italy?
MY MIND came back to the now with Esme and I pull her closer because my heart aches for the family. It’s difficult but I can’t tell her everything. I can’t fully talk about it because I don’t even know where to begin or what I can or can’t share.
So much is happening and Esme makes it all go quiet. I hold on to her as I shut my eyes again, finally drifting off into one of my dreamless sleeps.
Chapter19
Esme
Marín has beenin his head and at work for the last few days. He’d gotten called into work the next morning and left while I was getting dressed. We never got to discuss anything that happened at work. With it getting closer to the wedding date on the invitations, I have to accept that I may have to go through with this. The planner in me kicks in so that I can at least have the details I’d want if I must get married. I’m in a weird place with Marín. While I want to know what has him in his head, I also know that probing or insisting that he talks to me is giving girlfriend or wife behavior.
I also feel like he wanted to see me that day for a reason but I’m scared to explore what any of that could mean. Is this more than a power play and he really does see me a significant other? Either way, my dad was clear; either we both decide to end it or I get married to calm the press. Although it’s not “the press” it’s one bored heifer.
Karessa had to run out to go to Xerxes’ doctor’s appointment with Oran. He’s fine, it’s just a check up. I’m holding down the fort since there are other events brewing outside of my wedding. I look around the shop, soaking up one of the few times that I’m the only one here. Now that I know that Karessa was attacked by her deceased father-in-law, I understand her desire to move. The new space is bigger and helps with the volume we get sometimes. We try to keep it appointment only and only give our location to the elite who won’t feel the need to pawn it off to tourists.
It can be hard being the closest thing to royalty on the island. We have to keep our circles tight and small. Sometimes it’s so small we didn’t even hang around the other Founder kids. All of the weddings have changed that.
The door chimes as I make one more adjustment on my wedding board. I know we have everything electronic, but I love to do hands on planning first.
“That looks tacky.”
I withhold my sigh; I’m really not in the mood for Mireya’s bullshit today. I’ve rarely spoken to her but she yaps enough on television for me to recognize her vice.
“Then you should feel at home,” I tell her as I turn to look at her. “What do you need?”
She flips her glossy locks over her shoulder, if she wasn’t such a bitch I’d say she was stunning. I would attribute that to her son’s good looks but they look nothing alike. I’d say she just help him not be ugly. The stilettos that carry her further into the store are higher than mine and she has a penchant for a solid body contouring dresses that stop at the knee.
“Is that how you treat customers? Interesting.”
I fold my arms as I give her an unimpressed stare. “We both know you’re not here to be a customer. State your purpose.”
She pulls off her shades and drops them into her purse. “Very well. Call off this sham of a wedding. Leave my son alone.”
It’s obvious she knows nothing about him since she’d know that I’m not the one pursuing this. I’m not the one to tell her though.
“No,” I answer then purposely tack another item on my board then pat it like I’m proud.
The last thing I’d admit to her is that I’m not interested in marrying Marín. I like that she’s the one bothered. I’m also not above being petty so I tap my phone to call Marín. The bluetooth is in my ear so she can’t hear it ring.
“How much?” She grumbles.
Marín answers while I’m responding to his mother.
“How much for what? Our services?” I ask while pretending to not know what she’s talking about.
“How much will it take for you to call it off?”
I laugh because she’s well out of her element if she’s offering a LeClaire money. It’s the last thing we need.
I snort without bothering to turn around. “That’s cute. Now, I have stuff to finish.”
“I’m serious,” she insists with a stomp of her heeled foot. “What will it take for you to detach your claws from my son?”