Page 35 of Fractured
As we cut the cake, I let go of the knife as it slides through the hard shell of frosting and placed my hand over her lower tummy, pulling her back to snuggle in my hips. I splayed my hand wide, the silk of her gown warm on my palm. Isabella cuts a piece of cake and lays it on a plate, licking the icing off her fingers and smiling at the crowd of onlookers.
The photographer wants to take pictures, and I have to let her go so we can pose. We place our hands' side by side and I look down at them. Our hands are crossed, our rings are gleamingin the light, and I’m feeling... miserable ... ish. I’m not exactly sad, but?... fuck, I don’t know what I’m feeling besides trying not to get hard.
I just want to stop fighting, and stop being angry. We use words and silence to cut and slice each other. I just want to stop the bleeding for one night.
I have no idea how to fix anything. I don’t know what she needs or why she is so unhappy with this marriage, but I can try for her. For one night, I can try to not be a dick, and make an attempt to be normal like Christopher and Sebastian. Put my need for control in the empty wine bottle I drank and put a cork in it.
Isabella shifts to move out of my arms and I pull her back tight to me, my hands tightening on her tummy and moving her hair away from her neck again with my chin. I can hear my whiskers scraping on the lace by her neck and the lights begin to lower, setting the mood for the evening’s festivities.
“One night, Isabella? Can we not have just this one night?” I don’t think my voice has ever in my life sounded this tender. But I want to give it a shot, make something work between us for once.
She turns into my arms and scrutinizes my face. And I try to not look anxious. She lifts her hand and softly runs her finger along my brow, following the deep crease.
Her touch feels so good. Soft, almost as if it’s a feather stroking my skin, and I close my eyes as she trails her icy finger over my jaw. I open my eyes and look into her jade-green ones. They are lax; no creases of annoyance around her eyes, and no red rims that make my chest hurt.
Her finger trails down my temple. I take her hand, cup it on my cheek, kiss her open palm, and observe her reaction.
“Just one night, and then you can go back to hating me tomorrow.” I implore her.
I wait, holding my breath as I watch her analyze my face. Her eyes are darting all over it, and I can’t read her expression to know what she’s thinking. Carlos says she needs me to love her, but I don’t love, I own.
When I own something, I defend it and take care of it.
I want to own her, but no matter how I try, she fights me. How the hell do I tell her love is not in the equation, but my loyalty and security are? And I will be loyal to her even if she never lets me fuck her. The thought of cheating on her now just makes me feel like less of the man my father taught me to be.
I’m probably half-drunk, but a song comes to mind in my drunken state, and it’s perfect. I don’t know how to speak the words, or even the right words, but this song can.
I hold my hands up in her face. “Wait. Don’t answer. Just wait here.”
She looks confused as I turn and run over to the DJ. I take out my phone and scroll through till I find the song. He has it and I tell him to announce the bride and groom dance.
Fuck, playing whatever my mother picked out. I want this one.
He looks at the song, and back at me, and says, “Okay man, it’s your wedding dude.”
I trot back over to Isabella, take her chilly hand in mine, leading her to the middle of the dance floor, and wait for the lights to go out. The mic clicks on and the DJ’s voice rings out over the crowd.
“The bride and groom will have their first dance as a couple. I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Russo.”
The room erupts into applause. The lights dim further, and the bang of a spotlight coming on shines down, encircling us. She is shining in the light and she looks like a little angel all lit up in my arms.
Everyone stops clapping as the strings of a guitar solo breaks the silence and echo around the room.
I take her in my arms and start to dance, leading her around the dance floor. I watch her face as she listens to the song. I smile down at her as we flow together, our steps seamless. She understands the song, I can see it in her eyes.
A range of emotions cross her face, a mingling of accepting my declaration and the anguish of knowing I can only give her what I am able to. I don’t know how to love, but if I did, this song is as close as I know how to say it.
I make the last turn of the dance and we stop. I hold her and we lock eyes for a moment. The silent unspoken words I can’t say, the ones she wants to hear, but realizes she never will.
I want to kiss her so badly, why I don’t know, so to stop myself, I take a step back and entwine her fingers with mine as I take her back to our seats.
The room is alarmingly quiet as I pull out Isabella’s chair. No one claps in the usual manner after a bride and groom dance. I look out over Isabella’s head as I push her chair in and glare at them all.
Fuck them.
I am doing the best I know how too. I want to give her this one night, one night where I try. Sitting beside her, wrapping my arm around the back of her chair, I put my hand under her long braid, and run the tip of my fingers over the warm silk of her dress on her back.
I watch our parents get up and dance. My father is smooth on his feet, guiding my mother across the floor. My mother looks up at my father with tenderness, and I know Isabella will never look at me like that because I can’t give her what my father gives my mother.
