Page 117 of Married with Mayhem

The act felt like a betrayal but it was necessary. I keep telling myself they know nothing about my sudden marriage. If I can keep it that way, then I will.

The moon is on the rise. In another hour the sky will be a glittering roof of stars.

I wonder what Sabrina is doing right now. I shouldn’t need to guess. I should be with her. And we should be on our way back to New York, like I promised her we would be.

Fuck, I really do love that girl more than I love breathing. I took too long to say it, but now that I’ve said it to her once, I’m eager to say it again.

There’s not much privacy out here, sitting atop a horse and surrounded by my asshole cousins, but I pull out my phone anyway.

More than anything, I want to hear her voice. Too bad it’s out of the question. Our earlier phone call keeps replaying in my head and I feel deep sorrow that there was no time to pour my heart out to her the way I want to.

The closest I can get to her is to look at the last text I sent. At least now she knows how I feel. The next time I say the words ‘I love you’, she’ll be in my arms again.

No matter how good the reason, leaving her behind still feels like a mistake. I’ll make it up to her. Then I’ll never let go of her again.

“It’s a clear night,” Julian calls from the front of the line. “We’ll camp by the creek.”

I bite back a slew of curses. While there’s nothing unusual in camping out by the creek and we used to do it all the time during our summer visits, I’m not excited to see the creek again after what happened the last time I was there.

Sure enough, Julian leads us right to the spot where we nearly fought to the death eight years ago. I remember landing a solid punch to his nose and feeling the cartilage crack. If you ask me, his nose still looks a little crooked. I hope he remembers the reason why every time he looks in the mirror.

Fort takes charge of the horses and asks for my help getting them tied up. When he unpacks his horse he tosses me the extra sleeping bag he brought, which is a damn nice gesture, and I’m forced to say a grudging thank you. He nods and starts carving apples into halves to give to the horses.

Getty is building a fire. Tye is ransacking the drink cooler and complaining that there’s not enough beer. Julian, forever the pit boss of the crew, stands at the shoreline of the swollen creek and rakes over the scene with his sharp eyes.

For a moment, a torrent of good memories attempts to surface. Some of the best times of my life were spent here with my cousins. Though New York City will always have the primary claim to my soul, I won’t bother denying that I also feel connected to this place.

Julian sees that I’m staring and his expression turns thoughtful. “It’s good to see you back here. I was starting to think you’d never visit again.”

Sometimes it’s not easy to tell if Julian is fucking with you or not. In any case, I’m keeping my guard up.

“Your father demanded to see me so here I am,” I say. “There’s really no mystery to it.”

He smiles but I wouldn’t call it a friendly smile. “We brought some brats to cook over the fire. Just like the old days. You remember.”

“Great,” I mutter, although a low rumbling in my stomach reminds me that food wouldn’t be a bad idea.

I don’t help myself to any food until I’ve watched them eat first. Can’t be too careful. And I limit myself to a single beer.

The air is getting chilly and I’m glad I snatched a hoodie from my bag at the last minute. The Tempesta boys seem intent on pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Fort strums a guitar. Getty has replaced his knife with a length of rope and practices complicated knots. I doubt I’d want to know what he’s planning to use that skill for. Julian, believe it or not, calmly reads a paperback copy of DUNE by the light of the fire. Tye, who has been drinking like a fish for the last hour, yanks off his shirt and howls at the moon. I shouldn’t be surprised to see the same tattoo on his arm that’s on mine. I remember the night we all got them.

Family is everything.

Sure it is. Until you decline to join their mafia empire and they try to drown your brother and beat you to death. Then, not so much.

“Fortunato,” Tye complains. “When are you gonna learn how to play some actual songs?”

Fort scowls at his brother. “Since you’re not playing with anything but your own dick nowadays, shut the fuck up, you hockey has-been.”

Tye sways on his feet and brays with laughter. He must be too drunk to feel insulted.

There’s a brief second when I nearly join in the laughter. Then I remember that things aren’t the way they used to be.

“So where do you think the cattle went?” I ask.

Getty snorts and tightens another knot.

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