Page 99 of Forbidden Dark Vows

Before I can stop and think about what I’m doing, I’ve eaten the whole tin. I’m still hungry though. I find a jar of pickled onions in the cupboard and eat them too, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar with a block of cheese that has my name written all over it.

I think about the wedding.

I’ve organized flowers, the cake, the reception dinner, and champagne. I’ve sent out invitations, bought lingerie for our wedding night—white satin and lace, currently wrapped in tissue paper in the bottom drawer of the closet in our bedroom—and ordered rings. I’ve even arranged a surprise gift for Harry.

The only thing that neither of us has thought about is Harry’s bachelor party. I don’t want a bachelorette party—the only person I know in New York, aside from Harry, is Lizzie—and I think he is deliberately avoiding the topic because he feels bad getting one without me. Maybe we could do something together after the wedding rehearsal.

I don’t care about it being bad luck spending the night together before the wedding—that bullshit is for superstitious people, not us. I pop a cube of cheese into my mouth and chew as Ronnie pops into my head. Ronnie was there the night I met Harry. He was there when we got snowed in at the hospital.

I think I know what to do.

“Stop right there.”My dad beams at me from the seat in his room when I go in and raises a finger, warning me not to come any closer.

He has been moved to a stroke rehabilitation center, and although he’s exhausted from all the physio treatment he’s receiving, he also seems brighter than he has been in a long while. For as long as I can remember. Which makes me sad to think how unhappy he must’ve been.

He grabs the walking stick propped up against the wall, places it in front of him, and uses it to stand up. Then, smiling at me all the way, he crosses the room, using the cane for support, and links his free arm with mine.

“I promised I would walk you down the aisle.”

I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly, sniffing back tears.

“Hey, why so emotional?” He watches me closely when I release him. “They’re happy tears, right?”

“Yes.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and try to laugh, which only makes me sound like a pig snuffling around for food in the mud. “I never doubted you would.”

I wait for him to sit down and take the visitor seat next to him.

“I’m being fitted for my suit this afternoon,” he says, propping the walking stick back up against the wall. I can hear in his voice that those few steps have drained his energy, but his smile is still in place, determined not to let it show. “Harry arranged it.”

My chest swells with even more emotion than I’m already carrying around this morning. As busy as Harry has been, he still made time to sort my dad’s wedding suit. “You could walkme down the aisle in a black sack, and I’d still be the proudest daughter in the world, Dad.”

He blinks hard. “Now you’re going to start me off.”

Several moments of comfortable silence pass before we both say at the same time: “Have you heard from Mom?” She must be on both our minds.

“You first,” Dad says.

“She tried calling Harry’s office.”

“But you haven’t spoken to her?”

I shake my head. I know I’ll have to eventually, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what happened in Chicago. I just can’t seem to find the right words. How do you tell your dad that his wife is in love with someone else?

“I’ve been thinking.” He makes his right eyebrow dance comically. “About my wedding speech.”

Wedding speech? Fuck!

“It’s okay, Dad, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. My daughter is only getting married once. I want to do this properly.”

I can’t help smiling at him. The bravest man I know. “Do you want me to help you write it?”

“I know what I want to say about my baby girl. But I need you to tell me about Harry. I don’t even know his last name. I don’t know where you met him, or how long you’ve known him. I…” He shrugs. “I keep trying, but the memories… They’ve gone.”

My breath catches in my throat. My heart is doing funny things that are making me feel queasy again. The stroke. My dad doesn’t know who Harry is.Marry this Harry … and be happy. He doesn’t know that Harry is a Weiss. He probably doesn’t even remember Karl or what happened thirteen years ago.

Tears spill from my eyes. If he doesn’t remember Harry, perhaps he has forgotten about Karl and Mom too.

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