Page 17 of Marry Me Not
I nodded. That was common. In our family, women were also expected to busy themselves with home life, but of course, my mother was the exception to the rule.
“Anything else?”
For some reason, her cheeks reddened. “You know, I feel better. Should we try again?”
The pivot was sudden. I didn’t mind learning more about her family, but I nodded and waved at the photographer to come back. The point wasn’t to chat. It was to get the pictures and move on.
As the photographer ambled back to us, she turned to me and asked, “Why were you so against this marriage?”
My spine went rod straight. “Who said I was against it?”
“Your mom. She said it took a while to get you on board.”
I still wasn’t on board with it. Not even close. And this was the perfect opportunity to go for the jugular and tell her she was the reason. She was clearly a bit insecure, and she’d take my rejection to heart.
But the words refused to slip off my tongue. I told myself it was because saying that out loud would certainly end this photoshoot, and not because I dreaded seeing that hurt again in her eyes. “I don’t like others making my choices for me.”
To my surprise, she made an amused huff. “And you think I do? You think I dreamt of marrying someone who seems to dislike me for no obvious reason?”
I didn’t dislike her. The sudden realization made me grit my teeth. She was far too open and wore her vulnerability on her sleeve, but there was bravery in that too.
But I wasn’t about to tell her that. I needed her to think I didn’t like her. Why the fuck did I have to keep reminding myself of that?
“You seem happy enough to play the role of the blushing bride,” I ground out.
“I’m just trying to approach this with an open mind. After this, we’re going to have to live together. Wouldn’t it be better if we got along?”
“My house is big enough. With luck, we’ll rarely cross paths.”
She frowned. “I have a hard time believing you want that given you were raised by two people with an exceptionally strong marriage.”
Oh, she had no idea. “Maybe you should complain to my mother then,” I bit out.
“I don’t think involving my future mother-in-law in my marriage before it’s even begun will help with anything. We’re both adults. I hope we can sort things out between us on our own.”
I glanced away to hide my surprise. Fabiana really hadn’t confided in her. Huh. She was showing more restraint than most people showed around Vita.
“Ready?” The photographer had returned.
“Yeah,” I said.
He peered at us through his viewfinder. “Could you move closer to each other?”
Fabiana crossed the stone platform and stopped in the center of it. I dragged my tongue over my teeth and joined her.
“Cosimo, wrap your arms around her. Fabi, turn slightly and lean your back against his chest,” the photographer instructed.
She shifted into place while I did my best to ignore the heat of her small body pressing against me.
The photographer circled us. “Let’s have you face each other. Cosimo, hold her close to you, please.”
I moved to place a hand against her lower back. At least that was my intention. But I wasn’t familiar with her body yet, and my palm landed too low, my pinky splaying over the curve of her ass.
She went still.
My hand jerked up. “My bad.”
A beat passed. “You could at least take me on a date before you grope me.”
