Page 11 of The Housemaid's Wedding
“Millie,” he says in a slightly breathless voice. “You look… you are so beautiful.”
A man has been threatening me all day. He told me he was going to cut my throat. He’s watching me.
I’ve got to tell Enzo what’s going on, but the words die on my lips when his eyes become moist. “You have made me such a happy man,” he manages. “I am so lucky you will be my wife.”
He said he wants to see my blood spill all over my dress.
“I love you so much.” He wraps his arms around me, making me feel safe and loved in a way I haven’t felt in a very, very long time with anyone besides Enzo Accardi. “This is the best day of my life.”
Oh hell.
I can’t tell him right now. I won’t let that asshole destroy our wedding day.
It will be fine. I’ll just keep my eyes peeled, Mace or no Mace.
But as I’m pulling away from Enzo’s embrace, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a stout man sitting on the far side of the cafe, nursing a cup of coffee. The man is dressed in an ill-fitting suit and tie, and his head is shaved so that his white, egg-shaped scalp gleams in the overhead light. He is watching me and Enzo, an unreadable expression on his face.
Could that be the man who has been threatening me?
His eyes meet mine for a split second, and then helooks away, suddenly absorbed in something on his phone. He doesn’t look up again.
It’s entirely possible I’m imagining things, but my gut tells me there was recognition in that man’s eyes when he looked at me. And my gut is rarely wrong.
9
Our appointment toget married is at eleven-thirty.
The timing is perfect. We will get married, and then afterward, Enzo and I will have lunch with my parents at a nice restaurant downtown. He will get to know them properly, and we will be on our way to being a real family. I am a perfect combination of nervous and excited. I am nervicited.
God, I’m so nervous that I’m making up words now.
We are supposed to meet my parents in front of the steps of city hall on Worth Street at ten past eleven. We make it there with a few minutes to spare, which is a good thing because my mother is a stickler for punctuality. When I was a kid, she would get so mad at me if I was late for anything, and there werenoexcuses. When I was in middle school, I had to bring a friend to the emergency room because she tripped on our way home and split her forehead open so badly that it wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Istillgot grounded for a month forbeing fifteen minutes late for my scheduled piano lesson. Since we’re restarting our relationship, I want to make sure to put my best foot forward.
The snow has stopped falling, but there’s still a sprinkle of white powder on the ground. In about half an hour, all the snow will have turned into gray slush (or worse, yellow slush), but for the moment, it’s pretty. I hug my peacock-green coat to my chest for warmth although the coldest part of me is my ears, which could be in danger of frostbite if we don’t go inside soon.
Enzo, who is wearing a black beanie without the slightest concern for his hair, notices me cupping my ears to keep them warm, although all that seems to do is make my fingers cold. “Do you want my hat?” he offers.
Is he out of his ever-lovingmind? “Do you know how long it took to get my hair to look this way?”
“It looks the same way it always does.” A second after the words leave his mouth, he recognizes his mistake and quickly adds, “Always beautiful.”
Nice save, Enzo.
“I do not want you to be cold,” he says. “You are making heat for two now.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. My parents will be here soon. I only need to keep warm a little longer.”
When I mention my parents, I instinctively touch my neckline. I didn’t wear a necklace because I’m waiting for my mother’s heirloom. If I wore anything else, she’d complain it would outshine the jewelry she gave me.
“Relax,” Enzo says. “Do not worry so much. Everything will be fine.”
“You don’t know my parents.” I curl a flattenedtendril of hair with my finger. “They need everything to be perfect. If everything isn’t perfect, then…”
“So we will be perfect.” He flashes me a toothy grin. “Yes?”
I check my watch. “Where are they anyway? How come they’re so late?”
“So late? It is 11:12. Two minutes late.”
