Page 66 of The Mafia's Bride

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 avoidthis 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.