“Oh thank God,” I say, laying a hand over my still rapidly beating heart. “But how about Talia?”
Stone shrugs. “We’ll have to leave her alone overnight. But I’ll send in a couple of guys to watch the house.”
“Wait, guys?” I ask. “You have guys down here? Like other criminals?”
Stone continues on like he didn’t hear any of my questions. “As long as you’re there when Talia gets put into the system because her dad’s nowhere to be found, we’re golden.”
I nod, his plan crystalizing in my head. “Yes, that could definitely work. I just have to figure out a foster situation. Talia’s and Cami’s grandparents are dead, and both their parents were only children. There’s no one else to take care of them. But I can figure something out.”
Stone tilts his head down. “Cami killed for her little sister, you don’t think she’d be willing to raise her?”
“On the contrary, I know she wants to do just that,” I answer. “And she’s old enough, but she’s currently living out of her car, which means she wouldn’t be eligible as far as the state’s concerned.”
Stone gives this last obstacle a few seconds of thought, before saying, “I got a place she can stay.”
My eyes widen, my whole heart going soft with gratitude. And I find myself smiling up at him as I say, “Oh, Stone…”
“What?” he asks, as if my smile irritates his skin way worse than my usual resentful glare.
“I’m just not used to so much save the day from you,” I answer. “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you to be Cami’s superhero.”
“That’s cuz I don’t have it in me,” he answers bluntly. “I’m no hero, and I don’t fuck with capes. My help comes at a cost. Would’ve thought you’d assume that.”
All those warm feelings fade right out of my heart. Of course, it came at a price.
“How much?” I ask as bitter disappointment settles in my chest.
“More like who much,” he answers.
A warning zaps through me and I swallow my instinctive cry of alarm. “What do you mean,” I ask softly, my heart beating too hard and too fast.
Those cold, unemotional eyes skip over my face and lingers. But he does not speak. Instead, he pulls out the velvet ring box I left on the table this morning.
Chapter Twelve
“Naima, will you have this man to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health for as long as you both shall live?” the judge asks me.
I fret my hands in front of me, wishing I’d taken Aunt Mari’s suggestion to carry a bridal bouquet. Flowers were totally unnecessary, as was her impulse decision to invite every Almonte within state lines to this sham of a wedding ceremony. But I’ve got to admit, I could really use something to hold onto as I brace myself to tell the biggest lie of my life.
Stone has already answered his version of the judge’s question with a quick “Yeah, sure.”
I should do that, too. Just get it over with. But I look around. I have no idea why. Maybe I’m hoping for some kind of lifeline to drop down from the sky and save me.
But no lifelines here in the courthouse chapel.
Only people. There’s Aunt Mari, standing behind me. She’s wearing a lacy below-the-knee bridesmaid dress, even though I told her she didn’t need to put on anything fancy for a simple courthouse wedding. A ridiculously handsome guy named Keane stands directly across from her behind Stone. Apparently, he also didn’t get the difference between a witness and an official best man memo. Like Stone, he’s wearing an expensive-looking tailored suit.
I hadn’t bothered with hair or makeup beyond foundation and mascara this morning. I’d just put on my St. Scünchi headband, then went through my closet and picked the lightest colored thing that fit on my post-pregnancy body. I’d figured the green jersey fit and flare dress would allow me easy access when it came time to feed Garnet after the ceremony was done, but now I’m wishing I’d put a little more thought into my wedding ensemble.
So here I am, the most underdressed member of my own party, squirming in the expectant silence of all the relatives sitting behind the courthouse chapel’s wooden rail.
Quite a few of my older female relatives are crying like this five-minute ceremony is just as beautiful as anything they’d seen in a Roman Catholic church. Or maybe they’re just relieved that someone agreed to marry their darkest family member. Who knows?
I find Cami in the front row of teary tias. Garnet’s sleeping peacefully in her arms, and her little sister, Talia is tucked into her side. It’s only been a few days since her father “disappeared,” but Cami already looks ten times better than she did on that horrible night.
Better and happier. Not just because I’m getting married to the man she considers her hero, but also because the social worker assigned to her case agreed to let Cami pick her sister up from school yesterday and bring her back to the apartment Stone had arranged for them.
My old apartment, actually. I hadn’t known how to feel about that when I stopped by to drop off a move-in basket last night. On one hand, Stone had found an interesting way not to break the lease on the rental I was no longer using. On the other hand, I felt more trapped than ever as I made my way up the stairs to the two-bedroom that used to be mine.
However, my irritation had evaporated when Cami introduced the little white girl clinging to her side to me.
“This is Naima,” she’d said, pushing her half-sister forward. “Don’t worry. She’s nice. She’s the one who helped arrange for you to live with me instead of Dad.”
I’d expected a conflicted response from the girl. Maybe even some questions about the father who had mysteriously disappeared.
But instead, she raised her brown eyes to mine and whispered, “Thank you.”
That was when I knew for sure, what I had only believed in my gut before. Cami hadn’t been lying. Everything she’d accused her father of was true.
And now, the sight of Cami sitting with her sister in my wedding audience makes my indecision disappear. Yes, I swore not to be Too Nice Naima anymore. And yes, I know I let myself get too close to a case, just like I swore I wouldn’t do again after Amber. But something inside me won’t let Too Nice Naima die. Or abandon Cami when I know my agreement to this marriage is the only thing standing between her and a jail sentence.
Believe me, I thought about it when Stone pulled out that ultimatum disguised as a wedding ring. But only for a second. As hard as I’m trying to be these days, the truth is there’s no version of me that would have been able to live with herself if I let Cami go to jail for the crime of protecting her sister.
So instead of grabbing my baby and running straight to the nearest passport office, I turn back to the judge, and spit out the word, “Yes,” as quick as I can.
Then I concentrate on trying not to faint over the fact that I’ve just agreed to marry a man I first met over a gun at my kitchen table. A ruthless enforcer, who despite having no real feelings or emotions other than general disdain toward me that I can see, was willing to do anything to force me into this marriage of inconvenience—up to and including blackmailing me over a dead body.
The rest of the civil ceremony happens pretty fast after that. There’s a blur of repeated words, then the gorgeous wedding ring I refused on Monday morning gets shoved onto my left ring finger on Saturday afternoon. Then Stone hands me an ultra-modern signet platinum wedding band to push over the thick knuckle of his ring finger.
“Should we just hug or something,” I ask quietly when the judge announces that Stone may kiss his bride.
“Don’t be stupid,” he answers, his eyes flashing.
Then he gathers me up in his arms and hits me with one whammy of a kiss.
You’d think I’d feel nothing after being blackmailed into this moment, but oh my God, it’s the graveyard all over again. Stone’s lips zap me with the same electric current of instant lust, completely erasing my memory of everything that came
before it. And my previously mournful thoughts are soon replaced with an aching desire for this kiss to go on forever and ever. Amen.
But Stone abruptly pulls away with a smirk, then turns to everyone who came to the wedding to say, “Well, that’s in the bag.”
My family jumps to their feet and claps for us, calling out all sorts of congratulations and good wishes. But I’m left feeling stupid—stupid and so, so messed up. Just like I did outside that graveyard.
Stone might have kissed me, and for a few mind-melting moments I might have liked it. But nothing whatsoever has changed between us, even with this marriage.
Two signatures and a checkmark next to the Married box on one thin form.
That’s all we are.
All we’ll ever be.
I know that in my sensible mind. So why can’t I stop the sudden wish that things were different between us? Why can’t I keep myself from imagining what it would be like if Stone wanted me, even just a little bit?
But that’s now how the real world works. At least not for me.
“You coming?” he asks me.
Another rhetorical question. He takes me by the elbow and leads me into the fray of my huge Dominican family.
As I’m enveloped in a sea of hugs and kisses, I peep over at Stone whose accepting all the warm congratulations with stoic handshakes.
He seems so aloof and untouchable, even after that kiss. And his expression is as unreadable as his soul.
Plans, you ask? I don’t have any. I have no idea whatsoever how I’m going to extricate myself from this marriage mess. Or what this decision means for me and Garnet going forward. What will it be like married to a man like Stone? Ayayay.
This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life. But my stomach knots with dread, wondering what comes next.
Chapter Thirteen
Two hours later, I’m hiding in the walk-in pantry, still in shock and dumbly staring down at my ring.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
A voice with a heavy Boston accent interrupts my “I can’t believe I’m now married to Stone Frickin’ Ferraro” trance.
I look up to see the guy who greeted Stone with a “Hey, bro, you really doing this? I thought maybe it was a joke when I got your text.” That was before he turned to me and introduced himself as “Keane, just Keane.”
He’s standing in the pantry’s open door with a tumbler in his hand. “Guallando” by Fulanito spills in behind him, letting me know that the “itty bitty reception” Aunt Mari insisted on throwing at the house has become a party in full tilt.
“How did you know I was in here?” I ask Keane.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to Jack.” He grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels from a nearby shelf. “There’s only so much rum us Boston guys can drink. And Stone’s fucked off somewhere, so I had to go whiskey questing by myself. Though I wouldn’t have pegged him as a Jack guy.”
“I’m sorry he abandoned you,” I say quietly, trying not to ogle the man, who used to be a former hockey player, according to one of my male cousins. He’s so handsome and clean-cut but talks like a movie about Boston mafia gangs.
My curiosity nudges at me to ask him how he knows Stone exactly, to try to gain insights on the impenetrable man I married.
Don’t case file him! Not Nice Naima cuts those thoughts off before they can begin.
“That Jack belongs to my aunt Mari,” I say instead. “Stone keeps his stuff on the higher shelf.”
Keane looks up and a grin spreads across his handsome face. “Midleton, Score!”
He puts the Jack Daniel’s back and brings down a bottle with an old-fashioned label on it. “You want some? I can get another glass.”
“No, I’m alright,” I answer, pasting on a smile.
It must not have been too convincing. Keane closes the pantry door behind him and asks, “You sure about that? I’ve become more—I guess you’d call it perceptive over the years since marrying a therapist. Plus, hiding in a closet during your own wedding reception ain’t exactly screaming all right.”
I shake my head. Not sure how to answer that. No, I’m not alright. I just signed up for marriage with a guy who by his own admission doesn’t give a single s-word about my feelings or even understand what his brother ever saw in me. I’m definitely not alright.
But it’s not like talking about any of this with Stone’s best man will help.
As if sensing my dilemma Keane asks, “Stone mentioned you moved down here from New York. You got anybody you can talk to in North Carolina?”
“My family, I guess.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You guess or you know?”
I sigh. Real talk, Stone’s rich, commanding, and looks like the lead in a Martin Scorsese film, so I’m pretty sure my family likes him way more than their half-Haitian black sheep. I suddenly find myself missing the best friend I left behind with a deep, hollow ache.
When I don’t answer his question, Keane comes closer and leans one shoulder against the shelf with the industrial-sized cans of diced tomatoes. “Stone mentioned he invited me down here to be his best man instead of his cousin Luca because for some reason you want to keep this marriage a secret.”
“He told you that?” Telling the guy who came all the way down from Boston that he was second on the list to be your best man seems beyond rude, even for Stone.
Keane wags his hand back and forth. “Kinda, I had to do a lot of reading between the lines. You know Stone.”
“No, I don’t know Stone. That’s the problem.” The next words escape from my mouth before I can stop them. “I barely know anything about him. He’s just this big, mostly silent wall. He hates me. I know he does. But for reasons I still don’t fully get, he’s hell bent on ruining both of our lives with this marriage.”
I clamp my lips, before I can say anything else. I’m not sure why I said that much, and to his best man of all people?
But Keane just opens the bottle of whiskey, pours the tumbler halfway full and offers it to me.
“No, thank you,” I say, my voice much more subdued now.
“I insist. It’s fucking good whiskey and you need it more than I do.”
Giving in, I take the tumbler and tip the golden liquid into my mouth. Keane’s right. It is good whiskey. A warm, soothing burn down my throat.
I take one more sip, then hand it back to Keane. “Thank you. Thank you for being nice to me.”
“Yeah, I’m good at being nice these days,” Keane answers with a wink and a grin. “But you know, it’s not something that comes natural. My wife had to teach me, and by teach me, I mean she had to give me an ultimatum before I started acting right.”
He crooks his head in the general vicinity of the door. “Stone’s probably got it in him to be nice, too.”
I snort. “Stone?”
Keane tries to keep a straight face but breaks off with a snicker. “Okay, yeah, that’s a long shot. You got me there. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that guy say ‘thank you’ without it being totally sarcastic?”
“Now that I believe,” I answer.
We share a chuckle, but then Keane sobers to say, “Let me point out though that my bro, Stone is pulling one hell of a commute to do this co-habitation thing with you. Also, he’s crazy loyal to his family, but you told him you didn’t want them to know about your wedding, and boom, they’re off the guest list. And sorry, but that big-ass ring don’t exactly shout, ‘my husband fucking hates me.’ Know what I mean?”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t full on hate me…” My stupid heart doesn’t just skip a beat, it throbs painfully as I look at my perfect, over-the-top, dream ring in a new light. However, then I remind myself and Keane, “But he definitely doesn’t like me. I don’t think if he’s even capable of liking anyone like that.”
“Not thinking isn’t knowing for sure,” Keane points out, taking a big sip of whiskey. “All I’m saying is keep your mind open when it comes to Stone.
He just might surprise you.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Por dios! Don’t be cruel. I don’t have any grandchildren yet. I miss the babies so much. I should be allowed to cuddle this little one as long as I wish.”
About an hour after my pantry talk with Keane, I find myself in a tug of war over Garnet with one of my middle-age cousins.
“It’s time for her to go to bed,” I answer as gently as possible…while wrestling my baby away.
“You come to my Stephanie’s quinceañera next month!” she calls after me when I finally manage to pry Garnet from her.
I make a non-committal sound as I back away. The last thing I need is to get in another one-side complaint session with one of my relatives about how I never come to any of the family events that seem to take place every single weekend. Aunt Mari’s already been fussing at me all day about how I need to do better, since everyone came out to my wedding. Even though it wasn’t my idea to invite them in the first place.
I rush up the stairs with my drowsy baby before anyone else can invite me to another family event that I won’t be attending.
However, I stop cold in the door of my bedroom when I find a pair of polished wingtips where Garnet’s crib used to be.
And Stone, lounging on a settee that wasn’t there this morning…flipping through a car magazine.
“If you’re looking for a place to put her, kid’s been relocated next door,” he says without looking up from his literally racy reading material.
A place to put her, I grumble to myself. Like she’s some object to be stored.
But I take her next door anyway, preferring anywhere that’s not in the same vicinity as my now…ugh…husband.
But I suppose this is as good a time as any to switch Garnet to a proper crib, I decide after I lay her down in the yellow-walled room Stone designated as the nursery. She’s been sleeping through the night for a couple of weeks now, and it feels like a natural transition.
STONE: Her Ruthless Enforcer: 50 Loving States, North Carolina Page 7
