Page 132 of Savannah Royals
“Mierda, Kat!” Tony flies out of his seat, taking in the sight of my bloodstained hands and bruised neck. “Santo Dios! Abe? Abe, get out here.”
I fold myself into Tony’s arms as my legs give out. We sink into a puddle on the floor. Abe walks in as Tony’s hands trace over me, up and down. Spanish curses and exclamations fly from his lips in rapid succession.
“Kat?” Abe drops to the ground beside us, his eyes drawn to my injured neck. “What happened?”
And it’s the hardest tale I’ve ever had to tell—all harsh truth, no coddling lies—but somehow, I’m brave. I find the words. One sentence at a time.
When I reach the conclusion of the story, the horrible moment when Paul’s hands throttled my neck, that’s when my gravelly voice falters. I turn away from Abe and Tony. I can’t look them in the eyes for this. For this admission that the boy I loved my entire life turned on me. That he hurt me. And then…
And then I hurt him. Irreparably.
I feel violated and victimized, but also horribly, horribly ashamed. I rip the cobra ring from my bloody finger and throw it across the floor.
“I should have done more,” I rasp. “I don’t know how I could have stopped him…it all happened so fast. But I should have—”
“No, Kat. None of this is your fault.” Abe is there first, gripping my hand. His forgiveness, his love, comes quickly.
My eyes move, hesitantly, to Tony. He sinks back on his haunches, grief in his tear-filled eyes. Silence falls. I bite my lip, waiting for his pronouncement. His judgment.
“He’s gone?” Tony finally asks.
I swallow, sandpaper on sandpaper rubbing my throat raw. “He is. I…I’m so sorry.”
When Tony’s face crumples, when his hands move to cover his eyes, Abe and I are there to encircle him in our arms. Without any hesitation, Tony embraces me in return. He pulls me to his chest without recrimination, and I nearly cry out with relief.
There’s grief, yes. Terrible grief. But there’s also love, so much love, with simply no place to go. He pours it into me, molten and raw. Into the marrow of my bones. It settles in the fault lines of my shattered heart, and I shudder. The weight is so very heavy, but with all three of us shouldering it together, we manage. One breath at a time.
The sun will set over Savannah this evening, and it will rise again at dawn. The streetcars will trundle over cobblestone lanes, and the hanging moss will blow silently in the breeze. The world will continue to turn as always, marching ever forward without pause.
And tonight, three wolves will howl at the moon, their fourth forever lost.
EPILOGUE
Six months later
Thedressiswhite.And long. And lace.
The flowers are white, cascading and soft.
The drapery is white, flowing and billowing on the wings of the wind.
Matthew’s bow tie is white. His smile is blinding. I see it, there at the end of the aisle.
White and light and bright.
Yes. The color of the day is once againwhite.
It’s a blazing September day, just one week after Matthew’s birthday, a year to the day after we met, when I walk up the aisle to marry him.
His family is here and a few close friends. Ray stands by, near the top of the aisle, with our wedding bands. Florence Vanderbilt has a seat on the aisle, a ring on her finger and Daniel Dufour on her arm. Mellie is here too, positively bursting with excitement. And there’s Harry Astor skulking in the back, because it simply wouldn’t do to separate the trifecta in the waning hours of their prime.
But all I really see is Matthew, straight ahead. Next to the altar, which drips with Spanish moss and white blooms. He’s smiling, beaming. Pulling me toward him on an invisible string. The light is shining from both the sun above and his gorgeous face. When it hits me, I am radiant.
“This is it, Kitty-Kat.”
I turn to look at Abe as we reach the top ofthe aisle.
“Who would’ve thought you’d have a white wedding?” he whispers, leaning in to give me a hug. “And that I’d be here with you to see it? To give you away.”
