The bar was very low, but I knew better than to expect more. Being allowed a house to live in and not have to fear abuse sounded like the best case scenario.
“Thank you,” I said again.
His jaw worked and I knew he was struggling with what he wanted to say next. A little smile flitted over his lips and a faraway expression slid over his eyes.
“Your mother is very…shy about some things,” he said. “But I told her she needed to speak with you before the wedding. Did that happen?”
Oh God, please don’t let my stepfather try to talk to me about sex, I prayed silently. I nodded quickly, a blush creeping up my neck.
“Yes, sir, she did.”
That was a lie. She definitely had not.
“Good,” he said, clearly relieved. He turned his piercing gaze on me. “Peregrine is a reasonable man so you can speak your mind to him if you need to. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“He won’t force you,” my stepfather said in a rush. “You don’t have to spend all day being terrified of him.”
My face burned and I nodded, wishing the floor would swallow me up.
“And, while I haven’t been the most attentive to you, I want you to understand that if I’m wrong about his character and he ever lays an unkind hand on you, I want to hear about it,” he said, the cold firmness I knew so well creeping back into his tone. “You call me and I’ll bring you home. Understood?”
My throat felt dry and my eyes stung. For the first time in my life, I realized that beneath all the distance, my stepfather did love me. In his own strange way.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Now go get your things. I’m going to start the car and try to get your mother ready to go.”
A few minutes later we were packed into the back of the car, heading towards St. Mark’s Chapel. It was a rainy, cool day and fog wound its way down the road before the car. I leaned my head against the window and prayed my painkillers would kick in before the ceremony. Right now my head was pulsing so hard I felt like I was floating through space, my legs like jelly beneath me. I could barely feel the soles of my feet.
In the downstairs room of the chapel, I sat patiently with a hot water bottle against my back while my mother and Mrs. Calo did my hair and makeup. Mrs. Calo was fluttering with nerves and unusually chatty.
“I’ve been dying for Perry to get married,” she confessed as she applied mascara to my lashes. “We should all go out once you get settled in and have a girl’s day in the city.”
“That would be lovely,” my mother said.
I swallowed, sipping ice water and trying not to faint. My heart pounded a hundred miles a minute and my skin felt hot and cold all at once. My throat was prickly and every time I swallowed without water I felt like I was going to gag and empty my stomach all over the floor.
“Feeling alright?” Mrs. Calo said, tilting up my chin.
“Just a migraine,” I whispered. “I took Tylenol but it’s not helping.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “Well.”
She and my mother exchanged concerned glances and I knew what they were thinking. Mrs. Calo rose and went to her purse and took out a bottle and hustled back over to me. She took a round, flat tablet out and passed it to me.
“What is that?” my mother asked.
“Prescription painkillers,” she said. “They can be taken with Tylenol. You might feel a little woozy, but it’s better than fainting or throwing up with the pain.”
Grateful, I swallowed the pill and got to my feet. “I should probably get dressed.”
They helped me into the gown, which felt like a size smaller with all the water weight. I always bloated when I got migraines. I resisted the urge to cry as my mother let out a sigh of frustration, tugging gently at it. My chest constricted, squeezing between the tight fabric, my breasts spilling out over the neckline.
“Are you sure it’s just a headache?” Mrs. Calo asked.
I stared at her, confused. “What?”