Page 26 of Ruins
Or…
He could be nothing more than another name in a long line of expectations.
I tuck the box away, letting the thought settle—not rejecting it, but notembracingit either.
Not yet.
But just for now…I let it exist.
***
The luxurious bridal boutique is dripping in opulence—gold-trimmed mirrors, chandeliers casting a warm glow, silk curtains cascading over pristine white walls.
And then there’s her.
Cassandra.
A stunning stylist, handpicked by my soon-to-be husband.
Her chestnut hair cascades in soft waves down her back, and her moss-green eyes glimmer under the boutique’s golden light. The dress she wears—skin-tight, perfectly tailored—hugs every inch of her curvaceous frame, exuding confidence.
I shift uncomfortably, feeling plain in comparison.
My mother sits beside her, laughing—laughing—like they’ve been friends for years.
Cassandra’s boisterous laughter rings through the boutique, bouncing off the walls, effortless and bright.
I sink further into my chair beside Mimi, out of place, uncomfortable, resisting the urge to fidget under the weight of it all.
Across the room, Pietro leans casually against the wall beside my mother’s guard. He catches my eye, winking mischievously like this is all some kind of inside joke.
I almost smile.Almost.
With a deep breath, I force myself up, joining my mother and Cassandra as she launches into a monologue about how she’s styled Santo for years.
“He’s a delight to style,” she says, voice lilting with familiarity.
I try to picture it—Santo Amato standing in front of a mirror, allowing this woman to adjust his tie, smooth out his suit jacket.
I can’t.
Because Idon’t know him.
Not really.
Cassandra’s eyes land on me, her smile warm, genuine.
“I’m very excited to extend my business toward his soon-to-be wife.”
Somethingbubblesup inside me at the words.
Something I can’t name.
Because she knows him.
Reallyknows him.
And I don’t.
