I glance over at Celeste as I park in front of my grandmother’s house. She’s barely spoken a word since we left her parents’ house, and I only have myself to blame for it. I never should’ve said what I did, especially not after the night we just shared.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice soft.
She looks up at me, her expression guarded. She hasn’t looked at me that way in years — not since we were in high school. She looks wary and insecure, and truthfully, I’d much prefer her hatred. That hurts less than this does.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs, her tone infused with her best attempts at reassurance. If I didn’t know her so well, I might have fallen for it.
I sigh and turn toward her, my touch gentle as I brush her curls out of her face. She flinches, and I freeze, pulling my hand back. “I don’t know what to do here, Celeste.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I’m transfixed as countless emotions cross her face, each of them telling me something I struggle to believe. I’ve fallen for this before, and I paid for it. “There’s nothing you can do,” she says. “Let’s go in. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll do just enough to take away their worst worries, but not so much that I…” she tears her gaze away for a moment. I watch as she takes a steadying breath. “I won’t do so much that they’ll like me more than whoever comes after me. I won’t seek their forgiveness or try to mend what I broke, so don’t worry, okay?”
She inhales shakily, and the smile she gives me is so sad it makes me want to drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I’ve become so used to the blame and hatred we throw back and forth that I didn’t think I held the power to hurt her. I didn’t think she cared enough, and I don’t know how I feel about finding out that I was mistaken.
She turns away and steps out of the car before I can say anything else, and I follow her. “Celeste!” I call. She pauses and looks back at me over her shoulder, a vision in the pale pink dress she’s wearing tonight. I grab her arm and pull her into me, making her lose her footing. She crashes against my chest, and I wrap one arm around her waist, the other reaching up to cradle her face.
“When we go in there, remember you’re my wife. Right now, in this moment, I’m yours. That’s all that matters, okay?”
She leans into my hand, her eyes falling closed for a few beats. “But you won’t always be. You can’t be,” she whispers, “and I’d do well to remember it.”
“Celeste,” I murmur, tightening my grip on her.
“Zane?” I tense and let go of my wife at the sound of Sierra’s voice. She pauses mid-step when she spots Celeste, both women freezing instantly, neither quite sure where to look. I wrap my hand around Celeste’s waist in a gesture of solidarity, and she steps closer to me.
“Oh,” Sierra says eventually. “Why is she here? Did Grandma force you to bring her?”
Celeste flinches imperceptibly and looks down. I haven’t seen her so defeated in years, and it makes every protective instinct I thought I’d buried come alive. “Sierra,” I warn. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. She’s a member of our family too.”
Sierra searches my face, her gaze moving from me to Celeste, and back. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says, before walking past us and into the house, the door slamming closed behind her.
I sigh and look up at the starry sky for a moment, feeling conflicted. What the fuck do I do? Why the fuck did Grandma think forcing Celeste and me together would be a good idea?
“I’ll go,” Celeste tells me, her voice soft. “You were right when you told me to stay away from your family, Zane. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I saw you with my parents yesterday, and I just thought…” she shakes her head. “I’ll go home. My presence would just ruin your family dinner, and you’re right, you know? What’s the point? In three years, I won’t be here. Why should they suffer through having to see me in the meantime?”
I smile at her wryly and grab her hand. “Celeste, it’s only a matter of time before Grandma would force you to join anyway. We can delay the inevitable, but we can’t escape it. You’re here now, so why don’t we just forge ahead, together?”
She looks into my eyes and hesitates for a moment before nodding, seemingly unsure. I smile at her as I pull her along, my arm wrapping around her shoulder as we walk in. I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous. My family attended our wedding, but other than my grandmother, no one congratulated us, nor did they come anywhere near Celeste when they didn’t need to.
A hush falls over the room when we walk in, and I silently catalog everyone’s reaction. Raven looks conflicted, while Val and Faye look like they’re not sure what to do. Ares and Luca look dismayed, and Lex looks downright furious. Dion is the only one who looks at her with a hint of compassion. Sierra doesn’t even bother looking up from her wineglass, her jaw clenched.
“Come sit, Celeste,” Grandma says, beckoning us in. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”
I throw her a grateful look as I walk Celeste over to her seat. It’s strange to have her here, right where I wanted her for years. My wife taps her foot nervously as our staff begin to serve dinner, and I place my hand on top of her knee, drawing soothing circling across her skin. She stills and reaches for her wine glass, her gaze filled with longing as Raven and Sierra whisper to themselves about the book they haven’t had time to read yet — the one I know Celeste is reading right now. Faye joins the conversation, telling them she’s loving it so far, and Val grins as she tells them the audiobook is even better. “You should read it, Celeste. It’s so good!” Faye says in an attempt to include my wife.
Raven and Sierra both freeze, and Celeste merely nods instead of joining the conversation, like I thought she’d want to. Her hand shakes as she empties her glass of wine, and I squeeze her leg reassuringly, unsure what to do. For so long, I wanted Celeste to see the damage she did, to feel its aftereffects, but witnessing it might just destroy me even more than it does her.
She stares at her plate the entire time, not uttering a single word unless Grandma asks her a direct question, and fuck, it hurts to see her that way — but what hurts more is knowing she earned the treatment she’s getting, and there’s nothing I can do to fix her mistakes.
