Page 16 of His Vow
“I do, as a friend,” he replies immediately, not even needing to think about it. I love him as a friend, too, but is that enough?
My heart shatters all over again.Is the love of a friend all I can hope for?This time, I’m the one who looks away.
“What does Giovanni think?” I ask. The brothers have always been close, and I’m sure even with their recent arguments, they will have discussed this.
“It was his idea when I met with my brothers in New York,” he admits sheepishly, and my eyes widen. A Barbieri brothers conference to discuss my future doesn’t sit well with me. But as I haven’t been able to come up with a solution myself, I’m curious how they think me marrying Antonio is going to work.
“And?”
“And … if we marry, the lawyers believe that the terms of the contract would be met. We would just need to do this without anyone finding out until after we’re married.”
“Go on.” There’s obviously more, because he can’t stop drawing circles with his fingers on the stone counter.
“A secret Vegas wedding.”
I chuckle but stop when I realize I’m the only one laughing.
“Oh, you’re serious.” My brows draw down as I toss the idea around in my head. I’m wide awake now, yet it’s still hard to fully process the suggestion. “A Vegas wedding? Aren’t you supposed to be rolling drunk or high on something to do that?” Maybe a glass of something now would make it all make sense.
He shrugs. “Maybe after, we could do the full white-wedding thing, if you want?”
My brows scrunch together. “Nooo.” This time I’m incapable of holding back my response. “You know I hate all that stuff.”
We’ve attended enough weddings as each other’s plus-one for him to know I’d never want that. I guess he’s just teasing to ease the tension between us. Leaning my elbows on the counter, I put my hands over my eyes. Ant and I are close, but husband-and-wife close seems impossible. How would that work? Even if it’s basically a fake marriage.
Peeling my fingers away, I tilt my head to look at him sideways. “Be honest with me, Antonio Barbieri. Do you really want to marry me?” My eyes narrow as I search for his reaction. We both know he can’t lie to me.
He pulls one palm from my face to hold it in his hand. “Luce, the more time I’ve had to think about this, the more right it feels. I don’t want you to marry my brother, and I’ve no intention of marrying anyone else. I really do think we could make this work.” It doesn’t escape me that he didn’t really answer my question, but for the first time, I start to believe his words. It’s not like my father will ever give me a choice in a husband, and this way I’d be free.
“Okay,” I whisper, our gazes still locked together in the promise.
He blinks first, his whole body sagging on a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
A lump of emotion lodges in my throat. “Ahem, I need a shower.” I retrieve my hand from his warm hold and scrambleoff the stool to stand an arm’s length away, before adding, “I won’t be long.”
Tears fall down my cheeks as I run to my room, shutting the door behind me.
Ant can’t know how much this hurts my heart, knowing our friendship has been changed forever. After all, he’s not the reason we’re in this situation. This is my father’s doing, and I place all the blame firmly on his shoulders. I’ll never forgive him for ruining the one relationship I hold closest.
Without even realizing it, my father could break us forever with this arranged marriage.
***
Awkwardness already permeates every one of our interactions. And it’s been like this since I hid in my shower, where a river of tears flowed down the drain along with the water.
My suggestion of a walk along the banks of the Seine, like we’ve done many times before, should have helped, but it hasn’t. Instead, a tension-filled silence has replaced the casual comfortableness of our relationship. Ant walks beside me, his hands shoved deep in his pockets rather than one arm flung across my shoulders as he often does. While my hands remain glued to my sides instead of reaching up to tap his arm or squeeze his hand. My heart is like a lead weight in my chest, and I don’t know what to do to lighten it before the feeling becomes permanent.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Ant says, diving into an open shop doorway.
Stopping a few yards away, I wait outside my apartment block, watching the chaotic stream of traffic whizzing by. Each driver vying for pole position on an imaginary racing grid. This is oneof the disadvantages of having a home base in a busy city rather than somewhere like Capri.
“Luce?”
I turn, and Antonio has a yellow rose in his outstretched hand. The rose for friendship, similar to many others he’s given me. A beautiful gesture that, in the past, always brought a smile to my face. But not today. Tears well in my eyes again; all I feel is sadness. The perfect flower to remind me of what I’ve lost by agreeing to be Antonio’s wife.
My eyes close for a moment before I blink them open again. “I’m sorry, but it’s going to take me some time to get used to the idea of us getting married.” I shake my head, willing the threatening tears away. “And I can’t pretend that everything will be okay then.”
“I know. I get that.” He brushes his free hand through his thick brown hair, leaving it a tousled mess. It’s a little like how it looks after we’ve been swimming in the sea. But today, I don’t need the reminder of those carefree days in Capri.
