I tap my toes on to the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change on the crosswalk, enjoying warm breeze of summer taking over the city.
Collins moves beside me, holding a few shopping bags while I balance two of my own.
Lex gave me his credit card, so I definitely plan on using it. After the confusing but nice sauce night, the way my heart stuttered as he played with his little cousins, and another night falling asleep in his arms without any sexual advances or demands, I needed some retail therapy to clear my head.
Collins was willing to assist me. She said things at home were tense and she needed a day out too. Now that I wasn’t there, it didn’t occur to me that my perfect older sister would have a hard time handling our oldest moody sibling.
When she told me today would be her only day off, between rotations and classes, I jumped at the chance. My sister just started her residency for medical school, the youngest accepted to the program, due to her intelligence.
I never got to see her, not before the wedding and not now. I wanted a day to just be Sloane again, not worrying about Lex or sabotaging a marriage.
This is something we did during our teen years. When I needed retail therapy to burn off the numbness and remember who I could be, or Collins needed shopping to escape the overprotectiveness of our father, we shopped.
He might have been ashamed of me, but after Collins fought and won against cancer, he locked her under constant surveillance, to the point of drowning her. Shopping was our time to bond, where I wasn’t the screw-up and she wasn’t perfect, we were just sisters.
The light changes and we cross quickly, darting over potholes and stray bottles.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she comments, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Much like me, she’s wearing a long coat a bit too heavy for the weather.
“And you’re wearing flats, but I don’t judge.”
“You always judge.”
I shrug. “Fair point. But no, just thinking.”
Collins turns to me once we reach the other side of the street, the sun brightening her pale skin and reflecting off her glasses. People move past us, some shouting across the way to people they know.
Her green eyes narrow as she tries to ascertain what I’m thinking, but it’s the smile that catches me. The same smile that says she knows everything and doesn’t want to tell me. “Ah.”
“Ah, what?” My nose wrinkles. “You’re going to be a doctor, Col. Can’t you use something a bit more intelligent to say than ‘ah’?”
“I’m not a doctor yet.” She taps my nose affectionately, causing me to roll my eyes. “But fine. I’ve never seen you like this before. Never so hung up. So distracted. So unsettled. But I know what it is.”
“Ugh, great. What’s the official diagnoses?”
She nods sagely. “Official diagnoses: you’ve got a crush on your husband. Maybe even love him.”
“For fuck’s sake, Collins.” I flip my hair over my shoulder, pushing away to head toward the store we came here to see. The need to avoid this conversation—and the eerie feeling that she’s right pushes me forward.
“Oh, this is too good.” She hurries to catch up with me, feet slapping the pavement. “You do. You like Alessio. Holy shit.” I dart around a slow walker. “Maybe you really do love him.”
She whips out a hand, halting me from running away, just like I’m good at doing when things get a little too real for me.
“Where did this come from?” I grasp for words, but Collins continues. “One minute you hate him, hate the idea of being married off, you even tried to sabotage the dinner! And now you’re in love?”
“I never said I was in love,” I defend, because that’s all I can do.
Collins shakes her head, that secret smile brightening her face. “Sloaney, the last time you got this hung-up on someone was when you were eight and had a crush on a character on TV. You’ve never truly been in love, ever.”
“So? How can you say this is it, then?” Because even I didn’t know if this was love.
She shifts, pushing my hair over my shoulder in her motherly way, her young face betraying her wisdom. “I know you. You like to push everyone away, including me. You like to think no one could possibly love you, all of you, as you are. That’s why you choose bad partners. That’s why you choose to party all the time. You think if you push them away before they push you away, you won’t get hurt.”
My stomach drops. Score one for the big sister.
“I know it’s because of Pops.”
I clear my throat, avoiding her eyes.
“More or less.”
Collins sighs tiredly. “I’m sorry he never treated you right,” she apologizes. “I’m sorry you never truly felt like you were an O’Brien.”
She doesn’t know the half of it. I could have overlooked Pops’ dismissal, but being cast out by Maeve—the oldest sister I always looked up to—hurt more than anything.
“Pushing all these people away, it doesn’t stop you from getting hurt, does it?”
I clear my throat, eyes blurry. “What’s your point, Collins?”
“You fought Maeve and I on this wedding and yet, it’s exactly what you needed. I was half expecting the church to catch fire and to see you escaping through a stained-glass window. But instead, I see this soft, vulnerable woman, who’s been drug-free for what? Two weeks? Almost three? That’s the longest stint you’ve had.”
I’m not thrilled she knows that. Or that I haven’t had to rely on drugs to feel alive.
Lex’s kept me focused and enraged without needing them.
“Yea, well, you weren’t exactly making the case for my escape.”
“No, I wasn’t.” She nods, resolutely. “I needed you to be safe. Maeve did what she could to give you that security.”
We enter the boutique, the fresh smell of clipped tags and floral perfume assaulting my nose.
“I would have broken down the back door to get you out of there, Sloaney, if I thought this wasn’t a good choice for you. If I thought Alessio would truly hurt you, if I thought Maeve had made a horrible plan. I would have gotten you out of there.”
It hurt on my wedding to wish for my sister to help me and then to realize, I was out of luck.
I hate to admit it, but Collins saw something I didn’t. At least not right away.
Not that I truly understand it right now. But sauce night, lying next to Lex, has healed something inside my heart. Has pushed away the numbness better than any drink or mindless sex ever could. I feel seen with him, alive.
Grudgingly, I nod. “Please. There was no back exit, I checked.” I hear Collins’ laugh and mock glare at her. “Besides, do you really think Maeve standing at the only exit was a coincidence? She wanted to make sure I didn’t run.”
Collins stops next to me, holding up a pale pink scarf, considering it. “Oh no, we both knew you’d try something. Maeve said she wanted the best view, though.” When I shake my head at the scarf, she drops it. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, right? You’re in love.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, stalking toward the back room. “And stop picking such horrible pieces. You’re better than that.”
“Sloane,” she says, coming around the corner. She grabs my hand on the hanger. “It’s okay to admit it.”
She doesn’t understand how bad it is to do so.
If I admit to loving him, then I’m staying. Then I’m his completely.
Then he’s mine.
What if he wakes up one morning and doesn’t want me anymore?
Then I’m right back in this situation. Alone, abandoned, yet again.
“Anyway,” I drawl, clearing my throat. “How’s home? How’s Maeve?”
She gives me a curious look, surprised by the topic change. Not like I often ask about our oldest sister, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard from her.
“Intense.” She nods, letting me have this one. “Lots of changes. I’m worried about her.”
“Worried about our infamous sister?” I snort. “The same one that men cover their crotches when she walks by?’
‘She’s in her office all the time.” She shrugs, tugging out another white shirt. I put it back for her. “I hear weird noises in there, like things being broken. She never opens her office door. It’s always closed. All the men have new duties. None of them will talk to me.”
Her brows furrow like she’s trying to figure out a hard puzzle. I’ll admit, it’s a strange turn of events but Collins always worries.
“You think she’s having a hard time, adjusting?”
“Maybe,” she says, brows furrowing. “It’s a lot of pressure to take on her role, to fill in for Pops. A lot of moving parts. Maybe the stress is getting to her?”
“Or maybe, she’s completely fine and you’re worried over nothing.” I roll my eyes, pulling a few glittery dresses. “You worry a lot about everyone except yourself. How are you?”
Collins tilts her head, pouting over the sales rack. “Now I’m really worried. Since when do you care about other people?”
“I care about other people.”
“Not unless you can take a body shot off of them,” she quips.
I hate how selfish she makes me sound. But she’s right. I’m not the best at taking care of others or caring about their emotions. It’s always been easier to just focus on myself.
After using Danica, it might not be the best strategy anymore. I still feel guilty about that.
“I can care about my favorite sister.”
Collins smiles sadly. “Don’t say things like that. But I’m fine.”
That’s the most I’ll get out of her because Collins is always just fine. The perfect, dutiful daughter, who never asks for help, who never says no, who always helps others.
When she was told as a child she had cancer, she was fine. She was fine after chemotherapy. She was fine the night before her very scary surgery. She was fine after when they told her she’d most likely never be a mother.
With a flourish, I flip my hair over my shoulder, holding two slinky dresses in front of my sister. “Anyway, I think you need some color in your wardrobe. Pink always looks fantastic on you. Maybe hot pink. Which one?”
Rolling her eyes, Collins points to the pale pink dress, glaring at me.
“Fantastic. Try it on.” I shove it into her chest before she can object, turning this conversation and our shared trauma into something productive.
I might not be able to mentally handle my problems, but I can certainly handle my sister’s horrible fashion sense.
I follow her to the back, slapping her hand when she tries to grab a drab looking pair of pants and a skirt that goes to her ankle.
“One more thing,” she says, the studious saint turning into a devil before my eyes. “Loving Lex can be a really great thing. Great for you, for him. From what I understand, love is a hard thing to come by.”
“And if it’s not love?”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “It is. You forget I know you, Sloaney. Always have. You can have happiness, and you don’t have to find it at the bottom of a bottle or in those little pills you find at clubs.”
Point for her.
“I don’t need a man to be happy,” I remind her. “No one does.”
“No, but love can make you happy. You deserve love, Sloaney.”
The curtain snaps shut, leaving me to my thoughts.
Know-it-all big sisters are the worst.
I part ways with Collins in front of the parking garage where she left her pearly white Benz in. A birthday present from Pops, she’s had a new one every year until his recent death.
Pops didn’t give me the same choice, forcing me to use his driver as a show of his status. Because the daughter who got the most attention was the greatest way to flaunt his wealth. At least I did something right for him.
I pull out my phone, waiting for Lex’s driver to swing by to get me.
He offered to wait at the main street, down the alleyway, where people walked by, oblivious to their surroundings. I decided to let Collins drive me into the city and opted to call him when I was ready to go home.
I skim social media before checking messages and the local news. Somehow, I don’t have a new message from Danica, or even a direct message online.
It’s like she vanished.
God, I hope Lex didn’t kill her.
I wasn’t lying when I told Lex I’d never forgive him. Danica was a shit friend, an okay hookup, but I still didn’t want her dead. Not even if my husband and sister both made good points that she wasn’t the best for me.
I call for the driver.
My thoughts drift from Danica’s whereabouts to the man responsible for her radio silence as I wait.
Seeing Lex with his family dug up a want so visceral in my heart that it’s been hard to fight against. Knowing this family—his family, my family—was there, ready to accept me is indescribable. I’m not even accepted by my own. Seeing how everyone laughed together, the gentle jokes, made me want it too much to ignore.
Not to mention my feelings for Lex himself.
Is it wrong to like your husband? Is it wrong to want him to own me so entirely that I’m completely one half of his being and he of mine?
No one has ever said I command them. Lex made it a point to tell me that his body, his loyalty, would always be to me.
I can’t think of another person to be so dedicated.
It can’t be that wrong to want him. Or to like him. We’re married.
Did I want to stay married, even with these conflicting emotions, or did I truly still want my freedom?
I wanted my freedom, not because I had a plan to escape, but to find someone who would accept me. Someone who would place no constraints on me, except those I could offer in return. Lex has done that.
Now, I want to own Lex as completely as he does me. I want to be his equal and his partner.
That is freedom.
Pinching my brow, I curse softly. Fuck. Collins is right. I’m falling in love with my husband.
Dropping my phone into my bag, it takes me all of three seconds to feel the cool steel of a gun barrel into the side of my head and hear the click of a safety turning off.
My whole-body freezes, mind blanking. Panic wells inside my throat and the urge to scream is choked down by rancid fear.
“Give me your phone and purse.” The voice whispers into my ear. I smell hot cigarette smoke and old coffee. I try to look at him, but he digs the tip further into my head. Yelping against the pain, I stop.
“Don’t look. Don’t move. Hand it over.”
I do as he says, hands shaking. My shopping bags are by my feet, and he grabs them too as an afterthought.
“And your necklace.”
“What? No.” I shake my head, hitting the gun. He jerks and I still, completely forgetting how easy it is for him to pull the trigger. A trigger that leads to a bullet. A very real bullet that could end my life, right here, on a side street in the middle of rush hour.
I just keep thinking how no one will find my body. How my siblings will never know. How Lex will kill every single person when he finds out someone took me from him. Because he will, I have no doubt of that.
“Hand it over,” he insists, voice muffled behind a mask. That gun clicks and I reach for the cross.
Tears well in my eyes and I can’t stop them from falling. I remove my cross, handing it to him, the final piece of my mother, gone.
“Now. Face down. On the ground.”
Sniffling, I drop to my knees quietly, palms out to catch my fall. “Do you know who I am? Who my husband is?” My voice shakes but I keep pushing. “He’ll never let you get away with this.”
He knocks the gun into my skull, shoving me into the cement. It smells like urine and exhaust and bile rises hard up my throat.
“That’s what I’m hoping for, sweetheart. Such gorgeous red hair,” he coos and I gag. “Keep that pretty face down or I’ll be forced to shoot that pretty little head. Understand?”
A sob escapes my lips, and I close my eyes tight. I’m not going to even attempt to look. I’m at a severe disadvantage and survival instinct is telling me to stay put.
I just spent the whole day avoiding my emotions for my husband, and he’s the last thought I have when facing death.
Ironic.
Footsteps echo around, growing distant, but I stay on the ground. When I open my eyes, I see Lex’s driver running toward me. But I don’t focus on him.
Just on the blurry outlines of my massive diamond that sits on my finger, bandage under it irritating the skin, reflecting the dying sunlight overhead.
Why didn’t he take my ring?
