Page 52 of Keeping My Bride

“I don’t think she ever paid full price for anything in her entire life,” Dante pipes up.

The puzzle pieces slowly start to click into place in mind. The suitcase full of “rags”, as I called them. They were her only possessions. Verona was never spoiled. No one ever treated her like a princess. No, she fought to survive, having been bullied most of her life and dealing with the death of her mother in secret.

When I think about the way I’ve continued to bully her…throwing her things away…treating her like shit, like she’s less than me…

Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. I pull my phone out of my pocket and glance at it before I lie to everyone and tell them, “I need to take this.” Then, I stand and walk quickly out of the room.

Tucking the phone back in my pocket, I pace the hallway, listening to Verona’s melodic voice drifting out of the dining room. Greta has come back in, and Verona is praising her cooking.

Why didn’t I see this sweet, innocent side of my wife before now?

Because you didn’t want to see it.

I had made up my mind that she was a certain way, and I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Just hearing her voice makes me feel even worse, so I retreat into my office and lock myself away.

It’s a half an hour later when Benito comes in. “Something wrong?” he asks. “You didn’t finish dinner. Who was on the phone?”

“No one was on the phone,” I tell him with a sigh. “I faked the phone call to get the hell out of the room.”

Benito is quiet for a while as he tries to figure out why I’m acting so bizarre.

“She’s not spoiled,” I say, which causes him to look even more confused. I shake my head and tell him, “I thought Verona was some rich, spoiled, little princess. Nothing was ever good enough for her. She never had to run a dishwasher or lift a hand in the kitchen; hence, why she covered mine in bubbles.”

“Ah, you were wrong about her,” Benito concludes. “And you’re just now finding out about all of this. Why?”

“Because I had a predisposed idea of her in my head, and I was too fucking stubborn to let go of it,” I confess. “Because I wanted to hate her,” I add.

Benito nods. “So now you know the truth.”

“And what the hell do I do with it?” I ask.

“Start over,” he suggests.

“Start over?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah. It’s not too late. You can make amends with your wife.”

But is it too late? Verona has told me before that she hates me. With good reason. I know that now. But I don’t know if I can just start over with her. How do I make amends?

“Buy her a gift,” Benito suggests. “Women love new things, like jewelry.”

I shake my head. “Verona isn’t like most women.” I smile at that realization. My wife isn’t into pretty, shiny toys. No, she’s into sentimental things. And I think I have the perfect idea. “Get out,” I tell him abruptly.

Benito doesn’t even question me. He simply walks out of my office, leaving me alone to my thoughts and the crazy plan swimming in my head.

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