Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He shook his head.
“You looked after me,” I told him firmly. “I’m going to look after you.” I tried to think calmly. “What can I give you for the pain?”
“A drink.”
I ran over to the kitchen and brought a bottle of vodka. He spun the cap off one-handed and took a big slug. I threaded a needle and then, wincing, I slid the needle in and began my first stitch. “Why?!” I wanted to know. “Why did this guy stab you?”
“The Armenians are new in town. Young, flush with money, trying to make a name for themselves. They think being a gangster is all about looking cool, like in a video game. They even bought a fancy bar as a base, a place called Worship. They’ve been trying to take over our territory and that led to...a disagreement.”
My stomach flipped. A disagreement that ended with a guy dead. But at least it was him and not Radimir. I fell silent and began the next stitch.
Radimir winced in pain. “Talk to me,” he grunted. “It helps.”
I pulled the thread slowly through. “Talk about what?”
“How is the wedding planning going?”
My stomach went heavy. I focused on suturing, not meeting his eyes. “There’s nothing to plan.”
“What about the dress?” I could hear the frown in his voice. “And the band? And the cake?”
I slid the needle through again. “There is no dress. There is no band. There is no cake. It’s just to get a marriage certificate. We don’t need all that stuff.”
“Look at me,” he said quietly. Then, when I carried on suturing, “Bronwyn, look at me.”
I grudgingly looked at him.
“This is the only wedding you’ll ever have.” He managed to make his voice gentle, despite the pain. “I want it to be special for you. You can have anything you want.”
I did another stitch. “What makes you think I even want a big wedding?” I asked sullenly.
Without warning, he stood up, thread and needle still dangling from his arm. I yelped at him to sit down but he ignored me, stumbled over to a drawer and pulled it open. Inside was the bag of wedding expo stuff.
He dropped back into the armchair, panting. “Listen to me, Krasavitsa.” Between the blood loss and the vodka, he was slurring. “I’ve already ruined your life. I’m not going to spoil your wedding dreams too. Let me do this one thing for you. Have whatever you want. The cost doesn’t matter.”
Something swelled in my chest, and suddenly I couldn’t speak. He did care. And he wanted me to be happy. I mechanically did the last few stitches, then bandaged the whole thing up. “There,” I told him. “You’re done.”
He thanked me and talked me through giving him a shot of antibiotics. Then I got him up, through to the bedroom and onto the bed. He passed out almost immediately. But I sat there watching him for a long time.
The next morning, I changed the dressing for him. Despite the wound, he insisted that he had to go meet with his brothers, so I helped him put on a shirt. As I stood in front of him doing up the buttons, my knuckles brushing his abs, he said, “I meant what I said last night. About the wedding.”
I looked up at him, then away. “It’s irrelevant anyway. People book weddings a year in advance. Ours is a week away. Everything will be booked up.”
He shook his head. “You forget who you’re marrying.”
Later that day, when things were quiet at the bookstore, I tried to sort through my feelings about the wedding. Ever since I was a little kid, I’d dreamed of this magical day, with a big dress and my friends there and me feeling like a princess. It felt wrong to do it with Radimir, when the whole thing was fake. But...he was right, this was the only chance I’d ever have, and throwing away all those childhood dreams felt wrong, too.
And there was something else, something I didn’t want to admit to. A fragile silvery butterfly in my chest that made a functional, courthouse wedding feel...wrong.
I decided to make a few phone calls. At least then I could tell Radimir I’d tried. I started with my dream venue, the mansion I’d seen at the wedding expo. “Hi! I was wondering if you had any availability for, um...one week from today?” I asked.
There was a stunned pause. Then the woman burst out laughing. “Oh, darling,” she said, syrupy-sweet and just a little patronizing. “Our first free date is two years from now.”
I sighed, feeling dumb. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Can I ask your names, for our records?” she asked. “And how you heard about us?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed at my forehead. “I picked up one of your brochures at a wedding expo. And the names are Bronwyn Hanford and Radimir Aristov.”