Page 75 of Stolen Vows

So instead, I type out a simple response.

Me: I’m taking my year, Flora, and I’m going to live it the way I want to.

I hit send before I can second guess myself, then toss the phone back onto the bed. But the unease lingers in my chest. Romeo lifts his head, blinking slowly at me.

“Don’t give me that look,” I mutter. “I know I should tell her how I really feel, but it’d only make things worse. And you know I’m right.”

Almost immediately, another text notification pops up. My fingers hover over the screen, debating whether to open it. I already know what it’ll say. I already know how he phrases things. Always polite, alwaysalmostnormal. But it never quite lands. There’s always something off.

I open the message.

Giovanni: I heard you’ve been staying busy in that little bookstore of yours. You should take a break, Chessa. Why don’t I come for a visit?

A slow, unsettled chill spills down my spine, pooling in my stomach like ice water. My fingers tighten around the phone as if gripping it hard enough will keep him from reaching me.

It sounds innocent enough. But why now? He hasn’t contacted me in months, and then on the day I’m supposed to marry someone else, I hear from him.

My pulse beats a little too fast. I rub my free hand over my arm, suddenly aware of how small my apartment feels. Paranoia coats the back of my neck, that slimy feeling of being watched. I know I’m alone, but for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel alone.

My chest is tight, my breathing shallow. He shouldn’t be able to reach me like this. Not anymore. But his words slither into my thoughts, unwelcome but familiar. I swallow, fingers tightening around the phone as I look around my flat with suspicion. Paranoia coats the back of my neck, that slimy feeling of being watched. I spin around, my gaze flying over my loft flat. I wouldn’t put it past my parents to keep tabs on me, but when I moved in, I didn’t see anything.

I shake my head, chiding myself for growing so complacent. It’s a good thing we decided Romeo and I will move into Graham’s house after the wedding. At first, it was for appearances’ sake, but now I’m wondering if it’s the only way I can guarantee my parents aren’t watching me.

I swallow and shake off the nerves. I know how to handle Gio. The same way I always do—with deflection and flattery.

Me: That’s so thoughtful of you, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. I’ve got my hands full at the moment.

It works. It always does. He sends a single reply.

Giovanni: Come home for the weekend then. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, Chessa.

My breath catches. He doesn’t phrase it like a question. He never does. I lock my phone and set it face-down on the dresser, my pulse uneven.

For years, I played this game. I played it so well that no one ever noticed how much I hated it. But I can’t play it anymore.I don’t have to.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before exhaling slowly through my nose. No.No. He doesn’t get to take up space here, not today. Not ever again.

I step in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing my hands over the soft fabric of my dress. It’s not a ball gown. Not the kind my mother always dreamed of, the kind she would have forced me into if this day had gone the way she planned.

It’s a stunning cream and white off-the-shoulder chiffon dress with a sweetheart corset and layers of chiffon skirt. It hugs my curves in all the best ways, and maybe most importantly, I feel beautiful in it.

And for the first time, I don’t see someone being given away.

I see someonechoosing.

My throat tightens, and I exhale shakily. This is mine, my choice.

I stare at my reflection, emotion welling up inside me. This is my wedding day. Not the one my parents orchestrated, not the one tying me to a man I could never love. But one I chose for myself.

With a deep breath, I turn from the mirror and face Romeo. “Okay buddy, it’s time. Looks like we’re getting married today.”

Romeo hops off the bed, tail wagging as he pads over to me. I clip on his leash and grab my small bouquet of sunflowers off the dresser.

I take one last look in the mirror, snapping a quick mirror photo of me and Romeo.

I don’t know if this is a beginning or an ending, but I can’t wait to find out.

With Graham Carter.

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