Page 51 of Pretty Poison

The past three days have all been a blur. I’ve been itching to see Apollo and Savio again, begging Dario, but he refuses to give in. Not this time. He’s sticking to his word and making me wait until tonight after we share our vows and promise ourselves to one another for eternity. But three days is a long time to be alone with my thoughts, none of them making the slightest bit of sense, and the questions lingering, left unasked.

Barging into my room as if on a time crunch, Elaina and Kat waste no time in picking me up and dragging me to the closet.

“The guys have left for the church now, it’s just us girls in the house,” Kat starts, grabbing the dress bag from its hanger in the closet. Laying it on the bed, she unzips it and pulls aside the bag to expose the shoulders. “Makeup and hair first,” she adds.

“What’s the rush?” I ask.

“Two hours might seem like a long time, but it’s not. We’ve got an hour’s drive and have to make sure everything is perfect before we leave. We won’t have time to turn back at any point.”

“It’s just a day,” I breathe out. “A day that shouldn’t be happening. It’s not going to be something to remember anyway.”

Kat and Elaina share sympathetic glances and before I can even register it, Kat drags me down the hallway to her room, sitting me down in front of her dresser.

“You get started on your makeup,” she says, lifting the lid to reveal an array of different products. “I’ll do your hair. I was thinking loose curls with a bun and some nice hair clips. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” I answer, my eyes perusing the products in front of me.

Since getting to know Dario better, I’ve noticed how my dread has vanished, replaced with a sense of longing. It’s a strange feeling, one I’ve never felt before, but it’s been making me rethink a lot lately.

Being with him makes me feel something foreign; somewhat more alive than I did before. I see multiple sides of him that I had no idea existed. While he might seem hard and cold, he’s shown me that he does in fact have a soft side; you have to really want to see it before it shows. It’s like he tries so hard to hide it away in that black hole inside of him, but he can’t keep it locked up forever.

Because I’ve seen him in that light in such a short time frame, I want to believe that anything is possible between us. I want him to show me more—I know that’s the longing sensation I’m feeling. I want him to let me all the way in so we can show each other the true versions of ourselves. But if I know anything, it won’t be an easy feat.

He wants, more than anything, to prove my brother and Savio did something wrong. He wants to be in the right because it’ll most likely kill him to be wrong. But I know them both well enough to know they wouldn’t hurt anyone without reason—without agoodreason.

Sure, they’ve changed personality-wise and their looks aren’t as I remember them to be, even considering the additional scars and the reality of growing up, but there’s just something that isn’t sitting right with me. It’s like alarm bells sounded in my head when I first saw them, making it impossible to think clearly enough to make sense of anything, and until that alarm is gone, nothing will be right.

∞∞∞

The wedding went off without a hitch. We both said our carefully worded vows that are open for interpretation if you want to paint a bigger picture in your head. We kissed each other when the time was right and exited the church together, hand-in-hand. Everyone cheered and expressed their happiness for us, but I couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut. Something within me wanted it to be true, wanted it to be real, but knowing what I know… I know that’ll never happen.

I shouldn’t take it to heart. He is who he is and there’s no changing that. Besides, even if I were to forget the bad things I know about Dario and only see the good, maybe I’d be convinced that this was real enough to work through our differences. But it’s not that simple. Not now, anyway.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we drive down an unfamiliar street.

“We’re going home, little one.”

“You missed the turn back there,” I tell him, pointing my thumb back to show the junction he passed.

“There’s one stop we need to make along the way. I want to show you something.”

“You told me I could see Apollo again. I want to go back.”

“You will. Just give me thirty minutes, okay?” His words plead with me, his tone low and his voice as quiet as a whisper.

I say nothing, humming my response with a short nod.

After another ten minutes of driving, we stop outside a cemetery. “And I thought romance was dead,” I say with blatant sarcasm.

“Believe me, it’s long dead; buried in there somewhere, but that’s not why I brought you here,” he replies with a breathy laugh. “Come on, let’s go,” he adds, stepping out of the car.

Sighing heavily, I follow him, my mind spinning with the possibilities of why I’m here.

As he waits for me on the driver’s side of the car, I take in his attire once more.

It’s an ordinary suit—black tie, jacket, slacks and dress shoes, paired with a white shirt, something he wears on the daily—but he looks so good in it. Not a single strand of his raven hair is out of place, perfectly slicked back, which differentiates it from his usual look.

“Ready?” he asks, releasing a shaky breath.

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