Page 18 of Vows in Sin

S eraphina

Twenty-four hours later, Cleopatra and I are sitting in deep blonde leather seats, our hair wrapped in warm, damp towels to help the deep conditioning treatment work its magic.

My curls are thirsty after that plane ride.

Our freshly steamed faces are slathered in a thick, moisturizing cream as we sip fancy champagne that tastes expensive. “You have to let me pay you back for this.”

Cleopatra waves away the idea with her freshly manicured pearl nails. “No way! You know I lucked into all this.”

“Well, thanks, friend.” I sink back with a sigh, the chair massaging the tension from my shoulders. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve needed this.”

“Me too! They don’t tell you how stressful planning a wedding is. I’ve had lots of help but nothing’s like having your best friend beside you.”

“Is there anything you need that we haven’t gone over yet?”

She thinks for a minute. “There’s this one thing that’s…never mind. I’ll tell you later.” She glances away.

Interesting. I don’t press.

I grab her hand and squeeze. “Why didn’t you call me? I could have come sooner.”

A lot sooner. She would have saved me from some unhealthy behaviors.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to take you away from the PalmVolt campaign.”

“Magda did that one all by herself.” We break down in fits of giggles at the mention of my disastrous non-existent job. “I wish I’d told the truth earlier. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “You always share when you’re ready.”

She knows me so well. “It’s stuff like that that makes you the best. You always make me feel better.”

“Same, bestie. Same.” She waits a bit then asks a perilous question. “Can I ask you a question?”

I cringe. “Don’t you think that’s worse than just asking it? When someone asks me if they can ask me a question, I get this weird knot in my stomach.”

“Yeah me too. Sorry. But this is one of those big, loaded questions that needs a heads up.”

“Go on,” I say, wanting her to do the opposite.

“Why did Dame have such a hold on you?” She peers at me. “I’ve never known you to lose your head over a guy.”

My mom’s words come to mind. Cleopatra is a good friend. I can trust her. Something in me breaks. The stone wall of the dam tumbles down the earth, water rushing out over the damage. I can’t hold it back any longer.

Her name steals from my lips like a prayer. “Alessi, my sister.” I take a deep breath, but it turns into great, racking sobs. Ones that have me doubled over, my shoulders shaking.

She moves closer, hand on my shoulder, whispering. “You have a sister? I always thought it was just you and your mom.”

“Had.” I take a few hiccupped breaths. “She died when she was really little.”

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She holds me until I can get out the words, “Dame. I told Dame about her. When we were in Rome. It was the anniversary of my sister’s death.” I take large, ragged breaths so I can explain. “That’s why I was so obsessed with him. He was the first person I told about Sissy.”

“You call her Sissy? That’s so sweet. So cute.” The thing I love most about Cleopatra. She always says the right thing. “Tell me all about her. I want to know all about Sissy.”

Everything spills forward. Everything except for how she died.

That story, I’ll never share.

Not with anyone.

A new thought rushes out, “I’m starting to think the hold he had over me had way more to do with sharing about my sister than having actual feelings for him.”

“I can see that happening. And—Rome. It would be impossible not to imagine you’re getting feels when you’re sipping wine with a gorgeous Bachman man.”

There are other things you can do with a Bachman to get those feelings going, too. And lately, I’ve been trying them all.

Cleopatra does all the things, brings me tissues. Water. Sits beside me, holding my hand. “Thank you for trusting me with Sissy. I’m honored. I’ll hold her in my heart for you.”

“God, girl! Don’t make me cry again! I’ve already ruined all the wonderful work these women have done to my face.” I take a private minute in the bathroom to put myself back together.

Alone with the door closed behind me, I stare at the mirror. My chest goes tight and I feel like I can’t breathe. I press my palms against the cool marble of the bathroom counter. Her bringing up Dame makes everything rush back.

That night on the balcony.

The connection I thought I felt.

For Dame, I attempted to sneak into a club. Honestly, I’d probably do that on a dare if I’d had enough wine.

For Reign?

I ran away, fleeing to the other side of the world. To keep myself from running to him. Is it an obsession? A minor mental health blip? An excuse for bad behavior?

Or is it something more?

I close my eyes. Let him come to my mind. His face. His voice. The feeling I get when he holds me.

I’m warm.

All over.

Warm in that way that fills you up, brimming to the top, then spilling over. And that scares me.

I splash some water on my face. I don’t want Cleopatra to worry. And I don’t want to talk about him.

Be witty. Be bright. Be fun.

When I return, I settle myself in the chair, armed with payback. “Can I ask you a question now?”

Cleopatra gives me a side eye. “Can I ask you a question? That’s a dangerous question itself. You haven’t even told me about your sexcapades with the much older man yet.”

I can’t. Not yet. “Oh, girl, soon enough!” Too loud. Too bright. I turn it down a notch. I’ve already shared Sissy and that’s enough for now. “But it’s my turn to investigate. Are you ready to spill?”

“Go ahead.” She nods. “Ask away. Let me wash away this knot you put in my stomach, first.”

“What’s fair is fair.”

She takes a sip of fruit-infused water. “Ready.”

“Tell me what’s got you so wound up about this wedding,” I ask. “I know how much you love Blaze. Trust me. I want to hurl ‘cause you’re so freaking sweet together.”

“You’re right,” she laughs. “I’m stressed and it’s nothing to do with him.” She gets that dreamy smile every single girl in the city hopes to get one day, talking about their partner. “He’s perfect.”

“Spill it, Cleopatra.”

“What’s keeping me stressed is not the wedding, but, afterward, there’s this other ceremony.”

“Oh god.” Cue the flashes of weird cult rituals. “Like what?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” She rests her head back with a worried sigh. “The not knowing is the worst part. It’s got my stomach in knots.”

“Maybe I can do some intel while I’m here, like Harriet the Spy.”

“I tried asking. The women are like war spies over these secrets. They won’t spill a word.”

I lean in with a mischievous grin. “Have you tried torture?”

“Stop it.” She bats me away.

“Chocolate? Wine? Get them drunk?” I offer. I sit back and think. What makes women spill their secrets?

Alcohol and debauchery. The last two things I want right now. The two things she needs most. I swallow back the tightness in my throat. Paste on that smile. Throw a glitter bomb at her. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. What we need is a bachelorette party.”

Cleopatra, not a party girl, crinkles her nose. “You think so?”

“I know so,” I say. “A party is just what we need…”

Need.

Need fills me, hollowing me out, heart, mind, and soul. Him. So badly. I hurt. All over. I ache, deep inside, for him. Even though I’m with my best friend, loneliness comes in a tsunami of a wave, taking over my whole body.

Right now the one thing I need is Reign.

And no party is going to fix that.

I go to smile. Nothing comes. Instead of the cheerful grin I want to give her, my eyes fill with hot tears. Turning my face away from her, I fly up from my spa chair, holding my robe tight around my waist. “Champagne just hit. Gotta pee!”

And I hurry away before she can ask me why more tears are flowing down my cheeks.