30. Emily

Dad doesn't even hesitate to get me inside. He asks some questions, but when I make it clear that I don't want to talk, he doesn't push, only offers to make some coffee.

There are stacks of papers on the dining room table and the living room looks messy and disorganized. He's got books piled all over the place, thick and heavy books, but I brush past it all and head up to my room. Lucky for me, I still have some clothes stashed in the closet, and I get into sweats before curling up in my childhood bed.

This can't be happening. I keep wondering if I'm overreacting, but then I think about sitting in Simon's lap and telling him how much I like being with him, and the way he said it back but never once mentioned that there's some other girl waiting out there, some other girl that can give him all his wildest dreams.

He doesn't need me anymore.

I'm worthless to him. Our deal is meaningless. Our marriage is exactly what it's always been: a total sham.

I should've seen this coming. His father didn't react well to Simon marrying me to start with, and it didn't seem like the old Don was ever going to come around.

Eventually, Simon was going to have to admit that his plan backfired.

Then he'd have to leave me.

He made promises. He swore to take care of my father for the rest of his life. He said he'd even make sure I'm comfortable for as long as I'm alive. But now that there's another girl, I don't know if he'll try to weasel his way out of the bargain when he inevitably decides to cast me aside.

Maybe I'm being dramatic. I knew our relationship wasn't real from the start. It's just that so much is going wrong for me right now, and I was willing to overlook all the obvious problems with our marriage because things were starting to go well, but now I can see how I've just been completely naive.

I wish I could talk to Rachel, but my husband got her killed.

I cry for a while. Mostly, I'm crying for my dead friend, but I'm also crying for myself. I've been so stupid, thinking that maybe this thing with Simon could turn into a real relationship, instead of what it's always been. Just a business deal.

There's a knock at my bedroom door a while later. I don't know how long I've been holed up inside. I call out and Dad pokes his head inside, looking worried. "You okay, kiddo?"

"I'm just holding it together, I guess." I force a smile. "Don't worry about me."

"Yeah, well, the thing is there's a guy at the door. He says he's Simon and he's your husband."

I shove myself to my feet. I must look like a mess right now, but I shouldn't care about that. Dad's looking uncomfortable, and I can't blame him. He knows about Simon, but he hasn't actually met my fake husband just yet.

"I'll talk to him." I brush past Dad and hurry down the hall. He comes behind me, going a lot slower than I remembered.

Downstairs, Simon's lingering in the entryway. The front door is closed behind him and he's standing on the welcome mat, his gaze hard as I approach, pausing to linger on the steps, a few feet above him.

"You ran off," he says, spreading his hands.

"Elena told me about your new wife." I bite the words out and try not to cry. I'm extremely aware of Dad behind me. I hurry down and shove past Simon and out onto the front porch. He follows, and I close the door so Dad doesn't have to witness this.

"It's not like that," Simon says but I'm already rounding on him.

"You don't need me anymore, okay?" I can't even look at him right now. The disgusting part of this is, I still want him. I'm still attracted to him. All those good feelings, all that bliss and happiness I've felt in his arms these past few days, it's all still there. I can't let it go, even if I want to.

"Emily—"

"Just stop. The whole point of our marriage is so you can become Don. Obviously, it didn't work out the way you wanted, so let's just cut our losses while we can. You don't need to do this."

His expression hardens. "I didn't come here to divorce you."

"Then that's worse," I say, desperation flowing through me. "Why do you want to drag this out? We both know you only have one option here, and maybe you don't want to do it, but you're going to. You didn't want to marry me, remember? But you did it anyway because you thought you had leverage and maybe I could help. We don't have to make this harder than it already is. Just let it go."

His jaw ticks. I grab the door and fling it open, heart racing. I don't know why I said all that, even if it's true, because that's not what I want.

If I could have my way, I'd go back home with him. I'd finish cooking. I'd watch him eat and I'd talk to him about what we're going to do all day. I'd laugh, and moan, and laugh some more, and feel satisfied in a way I've never even approached before him.

But we both know that isn't reasonable anymore.

Simon gave his life over to the Famiglia long before I came around.

"Can you just listen to me?" he says, sounding frustrated, but I'm already shaking my head and going back inside.

"There's nothing else to say. I'm making this easy on you."

"Emily, I don't want any of that."

But I'm not listening, and suddenly Dad shuffles in front of Simon, putting himself between the two of us. I look back as my father gets in my husband's face, sticking a weathered finger out, looking so frail and small.

"I don't know what's going on between you two, but you should give her space," Dad says. "Go on now, turn around and head home. She'll talk when she's ready. Or are you going to shove past an old man?"

Simon looks conflicted, like he's actually considering doing just that, but he finally lets out a frustrated grunt and steps backwards. "I'll be back," he says, looking at me. "I'm not marrying anyone else."

Then he turns and walks away. Dad remains on the threshold as I sit on the stairs and lean my face into my hands.

The door shuts. Dad sits down next to me and rubs my back. He doesn't ask me what that was all about, even though it was probably really bizarre from his perspective. All he does is stay with me as I sink deeper into my misery.