Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I'm not sure how I managed to prevent myself from walking down the aisle and meeting her midway. Yes, I do. All the peering eyes, all pretending to be friends when they are not. I also wanted to allow her father to walk her down.
I don't know if having her father walk her down the aisle was a dream of hers. I know she's close to her parents. This isn't the wedding she wanted, but I could try and make it bearable for her. This whole day has been bittersweet.
My fingers brush up her back, grazing the buttons of the dress. Will she need my help taking it off? I see Tova’s father heading toward us.
“Need an answer, little mouse. Your father is closing in. Do I tell him to fuck off?”
“No.” Her lips turn up into a smirk. “Be nice.”
“I only have to be nice to you.”
“Well, be nice for me.” She peers at me through her lashes. “Please.”
“For you,” I agree. “Corbin,” I greet him when he reaches us on the dance floor.
“Would you mind if I cut in?” I do mind.
“No, Dad. I’d love that,” Tova says before I can say anything. I nod reluctantly, letting her go. I don’t get far before my mom is asking for a dance. I do it because it will not only make her happy but it will also piss my father off. He’s waiting to get me alone to have a few words. I’m not interested in talking shop tonight.
“Are you enjoying the wedding?” my mom asks with a coy smile. She knows I’m not, but I know how to rub elbows when I must. Tonight I’m finding I don’t have my normal tolerance. If anything, I’m growing more irritated as the seconds tick by. Even when I’m not near Tova, they all still watch her. It makes me uneasy.
“I’d enjoy it more if it ended.”
Mom laughs. “Soon.” She beams up at me. “You need to relax. Everything is going to be fine.” Her expression turns serious. “If you focus on everything else around you and not her, you'll lose her.”
“She’s all I can focus on,” I say before I can think better of it.
“I know.” She pats my chest. “I only want you to be mindful. She’s sweeter than I was. I grew up in this world.”
“And that is the very problem.” I keep my voice low, not wanting anyone to overhear us. Tova has a sweetness to her that I don’t want her to lose. If this lifestyle hardened her in any way, it would break me. I would never want that for her. That’s the reason I stayed away to begin with.
“You have always been different, War. It worried me.” I knew that. I was far too observant as a child. “You can be so much like your father at times, and at others, nothing like him at all.”
“Should I be offended?” I’m not, but I want to know what she is getting at.
“Different isn’t always bad, you know.”
“I suppose.”
“Your father was a whore. Did you know that?” My brows lift. “Of course you did.” She lets out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Before me. Then he fell on his ass when I came into his life.”
“That he did.” I have never heard of my father stepping out on my mother. He loves her, and she’d also cut his throat while he slept if he even thought about it.
I never understood how dimwitted a man needs to be to mistreat his wife and then lie next to her and sleep at night. Not only that—women are cunning and patient. They will bide their time. Do not underestimate a woman's wrath. It’s not if it will come but when.
“He knew what I was to him from the start. I think you also knew who Tova was from the start.” She eyes me in a way only a mother ever could. I give a slight nod, my eyes drifting once again over my mother's head to Tova. Her father spins her in a circle, making her giggle. “Then it doesn’t matter.”
“What?” I ask, dragging my attention away from my wife. I’m not sure my fingers could even get the delicate buttons of her dress off. I’d ruin it. I couldn’t just replace it. She had made it her own, sewing pockets into the sides. They are hardly noticeable, but I knew she would put her own spin on it, and I was looking for them. Since it’s partly her creation, there will be no ripping of the buttons.
“This is what I mean.” Mom glances over toward Tova. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. There is no fighting what you feel for her.”
“I’m not fighting that.” I lost that battle long ago. Not sure you could even call it a battle.