Page 3 of Unholy Union
Tessa laughs, clasping her hands to her chest. “My hero!”
“Who said knights in shining armor had dicks?”
“Or didn’t wear sundresses with little pink flowers on them?” she teases, plucking her latte from the cardboard carrier. She takes her first sip and then hums her approval. “And you evenremembered the extra shot of espresso and side of scallion cream cheese! I knew you were my soulmate.”
“More like the barista at the Coffee Grind knew exactly who I was grabbing coffee and bagels for, so she made sure to throw them in. But I’ll take all the praise and credit anyway.”
We continue our laughs as we unpack the bagels from the paper bag and start slathering an appalling amount of cream cheese on them.
It’s not as if any customers will be by anytime soon—Tessa’s boutique has seen a slow start since it opened up a couple months ago. A graduation gift from her father, Mr. Lucchesi, it’s her dream come to life.
But it turns out in the era of fast fashion, it’s a little harder to build clientele for an upscale boutique. Even in New York City, one of the fashion capitals of the world.
I’m just happy she’s living her dream. We’ve known each other for half our lives, ever since seventh grade science class where we were partnered together for a project. We’ve been inseparable from that moment on, even rooming together at Fordham University at Lincoln Center where she studied Fashion Design and I majored in English lit.
Tessa’s the sarcastic, sometimes pessimistic, honey-brown brunette with a feathered bob cut and impeccable taste in fashion. I’m theotherbrunette with long, wild, curly dark hair and a smattering of freckles and her head in the clouds.
We balance each other out perfectly, often bonding over coffee and our tragic taste in men.
Now that we’ve graduated college, we’ve even started planning a summer trip to Europe.
Tessa almost chokes as she swallows her next gulp of coffee. It’s like watching a lightbulb turn on above her head as her blue eyes round and she slams a hand to the counter. “I almost forgot to tell you! Guess who I ran into at Luke’s party last night?”
I groan and hang my head, eyes snapping shut. “If you say his name even one time, Iwillfind a way to stab you with this plastic knife.”
“Down, mafioso. I’m well aware of who your papà is. Probably why you and your family shouldn’t be trusted with anything sharp. Even if it’s plastic,” she laughs. “But, anyway, as I was saying… there I was last night at Luke’s lame-ass get-together. Foam and strobe lights and itty bitty bikinis and tossing footballs to music that makes your ears bleed. You know, the usual. I was about to leave and go actually do something with my life, but then Matteo stopped me! He asked about you.”
“Of course he did,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. My bagel lays half eaten and forgotten in front of me. “I’ve had to stop answering his texts.”
Tessa smirks. “He still has you as the wallpaper on his lock screen, by the way. I saw it when he took his phone out to ask if he still had the right number.”
“It’s been a whole year.”
“To be fair, I’ve had stalkers for longer. I know one way you could get rid of him. I’m sure Papà Don wouldn’t appreciate some guy refusing to leave his prized princess alone.”
“Are you crazy? Matteo’s dadworksfor my father. If Papi even suspected Matteo was giving me trouble, he and his father would be disappeared.”
“AKA sent to the bottom of the Hudson River.”
“He’ll grow bored eventually. Matteo’s like a dog with a chew toy. He’ll find a new favorite soon.”
I pick up my bagel for another crisp bite, speaking more out of hope than certainty.
It’s true that Matteo’s refused to let our relationship remain in the past. We dated for over two years while attending Fordham, and because he was my first real boyfriend, I probably stuck it out longer than I should’ve.
After a while, it became painfully clear we were mismatched. Matteo thought we were headed toward a future together that included marriage while I was trying to figure out a way to let him down gently. Other than being Italian and growing up in what we refer to as “the lifestyle”, Matteo and I had basically nothing in common.
He was a soccer star attending school on an athletic scholarship, because his D-average was nowhere near good enough for any four year otherwise. He was obsessed with sports and working out at the gym and more concerned with how much product he put in his hair than he was with anything academic related.
I was the obedient daughter of the don, acing my classes, doing extra curriculars in my free time, and just trying to find myself and what I wanted out of the future. The possibilities seemed endless and I’d always loved that about life. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to live how Mami lived—with plenty of passion and spontaneity in life, alongside a man who loved me like Papi loved her. And after dating Matteo Basile, I knew he wasnotthat man.
Not even close.
There was no passion between us. No fire or sparks or any intensity. I felt nothing when he kissed me. We couldn’t be more wrong for each other.
“I know what you need,” Tessa says, drawing me from my thoughts. She clutches her latte as she wanders over to one of the many racks in her boutique. “I just got this in from a designer, and as soon as I saw it, I thought of you. You’d look gorgeous in this!”
From the rack, Tessa snatches a silky satin wrap dress that’s a soft blush pink and adorned with a vibrant floral print that looks fresh from a blooming garden. The dress has a thigh-high slit that’s just shy of being scandalous and delicate spaghettistraps. By the cut of the fabric, it’s clear the dress is meant to hug and highlight every single female curve.
