Page 108 of Bitter Poetry

DANTE

“Ican’t believe you went to see her,” Leon says, pacing the confines of the bedroom of my city apartment. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you looking to get offed?”

I ignore him and continue with my tie.

It’s my wedding day.

Only pity is, I’m marrying Helena.

Meanwhile all I can think about is the perceived bond growing between my brother and Carmela. I’ve tried telling myself that Christian’s loyalty to me is unwavering, that nothing could or would come between us. Seeing her helped. It centered me and reminded me why I’m doing this—not the only reason, but certainly the largest, most compelling one.

“No, I’m not looking to get offed,” I reply, distracted by the way the simple task of putting on my tie eludes me.

She was still wearing my necklace. Seeing it against her skin set off a fresh wave of territorial in me.

Maybe Christian has thought about fucking her; I mean, who wouldn’t? That doesn’t mean he has followed through.

Now, I’m thinking about him thinking about fucking her…

Leon comes to stand in front of me. He gestures toward the tie. “What are you, five years old? Hand it over before I strangle you with it. I can’t believe you went to see her without telling me. And Chris has lost his goddamn mind for facilitating it.”

I smile and offer up the ends of my tie.

He ties it for me and then puts his hands on my shoulders. “This isn’t going to work if you do stupid shit behind my back.”

I nod. “I know. I’m sorry… Got to be honest with you, though, I don’t trust myself not to do more stupid shit around her. You can take this as a forewarning.”

He sighs heavily, steps back, and chuckles. “I thought Christian would be the one I had to worry about.”

“You definitely still need to worry about him.”

CARMELA

It’s Dante’s wedding day.

Just another day in paradise for me. On the plus side, Ettore has been out the last few nights and is surprisingly pleasant to me when he is around.

Maybe my acting skills when I cried all over him are better than I realized… or some kind of Ettore planetary alignment is taking place. Maybe this wedding between Helena and Dante has provided a source of joy in his sour life.

I don’t know, and I don’t care. If I can get through the day without throwing up all over Helena’s white wedding dress, I will consider it a win.

White? That has to be a joke on her part, right? The color isn’t even good on her.

I’m to be her maid of honor. I’m sure she has bestowed this delight upon me only to gloat over bagging the man I should have married. It’s a power play. One I have no choice but to endure. As if the situation could not get any worse, the wedding and reception are to be at our house.

How my mama would despair.

The only glimmer in this joyless day is that I get to hang out with Leon who is Dante’s groomsman.

“He fucking hates Helena. He wouldn’t get his dick anywhere near her skanky ass.”

Christian’s words helped, as did seeing Dante last week.

But he’s still marrying her, giving her his name, one that should have been mine.

“Why is he doing this?”

“Because it gives him a pathway back into the family and a reason to visit the city,” Christian said. “Because it gives him a reason to see you.”