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We cut the cake, Maddie’s warm hand covering mine over the knife. One of our drunk guests shouts, “Smash it in her face!”
I turn to Carol and quietly ask for her to have him removed from the event. I don’t know who the fuck it is, but if someone doesn’t get him out of here, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to remain civilized. I am absolutely not going to smash the cake in her face.
The photographers snap pictures as we feed each other cake and link arms to drink our champagne. People clap and tap their glasses with their forks to get us to kiss again. I’m so tired of kissing her in front of people. I want to have her all to myself. All these kisses with an audience feel fake and performative—like a role in a play. I want it to just be me and her. I want to feel her surrender under me like she did for just a moment in the church.
I move through a fog for the rest of the party, the garter removal, the bouquet toss—each little ritual that can never replace the ones I’ve lost tonight.
My uncle Martin approaches us and pulls me aside. “I hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”
He’s never made it a secret what he thinks about marriage. Ironically he’s the one who has been tasked with collecting the money from the guests. I told him people should save their money, we don’t need it, but I knew they wouldn’t listen.
Uncle Martin sighs and gives me the stack of envelopes then excuses himself.
Maddie stares as I put them in my inner jacket pocket, and I know she thinks it’s something criminal.
“It’s the busta,” I say.
“The what?”
“Money from the guests. It’s an Italian tradition to support the new couple with cash so they can get whatever they need. We don’t really do gift registries in my family.”
I’m not sure if she believes me or if she thinks it’s some sort of elaborate lie. I can’t get her out of here and alone soon enough.
Thirteen
Maddie
“I’m sorry I can’t get away for a honeymoon. Too much is up in the air right now. I can’t leave the city.”
These are the first words Aidan says to me on the way to his house after the ceremony. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me since we left the reception. I’m so exhausted from this whole day, and now I’m terrified of being alone with him. The trip to the reception at least had an end point and was a place where we’d be surrounded by people again, but now there’s no more pretense. No more buffers or known end points.
I sit in the back of the limo as far away from him as I can get, staring down at my wedding ring. It’s a platinum band with a row of princess cut diamonds. And just like everything else for this wedding, it’s exquisite and exceptionally tasteful.
We’ve been driving what feels like forever when I finally speak.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I can’t bring myself to look up and meet his gaze when I say these words.
“You’re going to be a good wife.”
“And what does that mean?”
Aidan offers no reply. It’s like he’s only planned just this far and can barely believe he’s gotten away with it. Like it’s the crime of the century, and he never expected to actually escape with the diamond.
Aidan is saved from having to answer my question because we’ve reached his prison-like estate And it looks very much like a prison, at least the security surrounding the house. There are high iron gates and a fence with sharp pointed spikes at the top. We have to be admitted through a security checkpoint to get inside the gate. He has armed guards everywhere.
The driveway feels like it stretches forever with an expansive view of rolling hills and large shade trees. There’s a water feature with a pond and a fountain closer to the house. It’s all lit up now. Giant topiaries frame the front of the estate. There are Roman columns on the enormous white two-story mansion. This place is at least three times the size of my house and I’d always felt like we lived in a pretty big house.
The front of the building has an extremely generous porch, though “porch” feels far too homey and normal for what this is. This house is far too grand for such a word like “porch”. The front of the building is well-lit as though the house never truly sleeps. Two armed guards stand in the front beside the large double doors. Guards stand at every entrance around the side of the house, and I’m sure there are many more around the back as well.
The second floor has generous balconies for what must be the various living quarters. Right in the center with a giant window and glass door, must be the master bedroom.
How much muscle does this man have? And what a boring life to just stand outside carrying a gun all day. Is all this security really necessary? Is it to keep his enemies out, or me in?
Aidan helps me out of the car and guides me inside. In the main entry way, we’re met by an older woman.
“This is Cora, the household manager,” Aidan says. “She’ll get you settled in for the night.”
Then he just… walks off without a backward glance to me. He seems distracted or like he has some important business he has to get to. I’m not sure what I thought would happen when we got inside or what I expected his house to be.