Tangled In Strings

Chapter Thirty

"Never," he vows against my cheek. "Never."

...

Seated by the window, now wrapped in a towel, my skin fragrant with the scent of roses, my fingers pop open the velvet ring box, containing Giovanni's wedding band. It's gold, and slim. I got it only an hour ago. One hour and I retrieved a bouquet of garden roses, a pair of heels, this ring. I rushed through my shower, and grooming, and went through the motions, even though Giovanni is in the room across the hall, getting ready, which has only made me more nervous.

It's now my third hour seated in this exact spot, a full bloomed white gardenia tucked into my carefully designed up-do, my body in a towel that dried a long time ago. My phone rings on the table, Rebecca's name on the screen. I fully intend to let it go to voicemail, but like a woman possessed, my arm darts out and answers before I can think it through.

"Oh, good. You picked up. I wanted to let you know your doctor's appointment is for—"

"I'm getting married," I breathe, cutting her off.

"What? What do you mean, getting married?"

I set the ring box down on the table where the phone was, slowly. "I mean, I'm getting married...today. In like a few hours. I-I'm getting married."

"I knew it! Ha! I so knew you were! How dare you do this without me, without even telling me! I have done too much for you to be betrayed like this!"

I can't even laugh. "Bec, I-I'm freaking out here. A bit."

"Okay, okay," she whispers cautiously. "Okay. Second thoughts? What? What is it?"

"No. No second thoughts," I chuckle breathlessly, beside myself, dragging my hand through my hair. "No."

"Then what?"

My mouth hangs, trembling with lack of words. "Marriage...God, marriage, Rebecca."

She's quiet, for a long time. A very long time. I cover my eyes with my neurotic fingers.

"This is...about Dixon, isn't it?"

It is. I know it is. Like an illness that befell me, he entered my thoughts on the drive back to the hotel and hasn't left. I'm filled with the same choking torture I experienced while I waited for him to sign his name begrudgingly across the line on the day of our divorce, physically unable to keep still. I was so desperate to get out of there. I remember running to my car—full-fledged running.

"I promised myself I wouldn't do this. I woke up this morning so clear, so ready for all of this."

"You have every right in the world to be afraid of this."

"I-I hate that I'm letting Dixon ruin this. That I'm even allowing him to be here with me right now. I keep scaring myself. Because Giovanni and I, we're so good. We're so good—"

"Scarlett."

"I mean, he's perfect. I know I shouldn't say that. I'm not supposed to, but Becca, he's actually perfect—"

"Scarlett!"

My hand drops from my eyes, landing on my chest to rub the aching, panicked area.

"What?"

"Listen to me and listen good, all right? You survived a marriage of manipulation, emptiness—abuse. Your marriage ending was a blessing, because he limited you, in every way. Though you barely let me know anything of what you went through, I have eyes. I watched you enter and leave that marriage, and watched you draw yourself back, back so nobody could reach you. Not me, not Carlos...not Norman."