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Put a baby in her belly. Whether she wants one or not.
I feel my fists clenching again.
I turn away from her, eyes searching for my new wife.
There!
Emily is surrounded by a crowd. A mixture of acquaintances and bootlickers, they’re crowding her as they speak. As I approach, I can hear Emily’s voice rising in the evening air as she faces everyone with a tense smile.
“I’m from Wisconsin, actually,” she replies to someone.
“How did Konstantin Yurevich meet you in the States?” a woman gapes, covering her mouth like it’s a huge scandal.
Emily shrugs. “He didn’t—it was in Italy.”
“Ah,” a man with a thick mustache says knowingly. “That makes more sense.”
“There you are, my love,” I interrupt. Everyone stares at me, but my attention is reserved for Emily alone. “It’s time for our first dance.”
She takes my offered hand without hesitation, mouthing ‘thank you’ silently to me. I pull her away from the crowd. Something hard rubs under my thumb.
The wedding ring.
I let go of Emily when we make it to the glossy platform situated on the grass. The tent still shields us, but we’re on the outer edge, the fresh air is a welcome respite. She steps back, eyeballing me with a mild frown as she mutters something I can’t hear.
“What?” I ask.
“Forget it.” She smooths her hands over her chestnut hair. It’s pinned up in an elaborate French twist that leaves her milky neck exposed. It makes her look vulnerable … and makes mewant to scoop her up so I can keep every inch of her safe from the world.
When she walked down the aisle in her gown, all I could think about was how much I want to run my hand over her naked skin.
I swallow down the flash of raw desire. “Are you ready, Kitty Cat?”
Those dazzling sapphire-blue eyes are swimming in emotion. “It has to look real, right?”
I feel my heart breaking at those words. “Right.”
Nodding, I take her hands in mine and pull her close.
Just like that night in Italy.
The music starts, and the familiar riff of bachata fills the air. Emily gasps. “Is that?”
“The same band from the Amalfi Coast? Yes.”
A sad smile breaks across her face, and all I want to do is kiss it away. “Why?”
“Because this has to look real, remember? And what’s more real than the first song we ever danced to?” Crushing the unease as deep in my gut as I can, I sweep her into my arms. “I hope you remember the moves.”
“A little,” she replies. “But I don’t think I’ve gotten any nimbler on my feet since then.”
“Don’t worry, Kitty Cat.” My lips move to her ear. “Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.”
Emily tenses up, her body stiff and heavy as we start. She stumbles through the first couple of steps. People gather to watch us. A few clap along to the tempo, and I hear a loud whistlefrom Sima. But my attention is only on Emily.
I’ve wanted this moment since I saw her again.
“Easy on the grip,” she whispers.
