Drunken Mistake..........or not? #Wattys2015

Rehearsal Dinner

Rehearsal Dinner

Cassandra

“You shouldn’t have told her about us.” I said for what felt like the hundredth

time.

“It was the right thing to do.” He replied for the hundredth time. I pressed my lips

and looked away from him. I heard him blow out a frustrated breath, but he didn’t

say anything.

After the little revelation, I had done some last minute checks and left the hotel

with Salvatore while Marcie stayed behind.

My phone started ringing. I quickly fished it out of my purse and pressed the call

button.

“Hello?”

“Cass, where are you?” answered an irate Naina from the other end.

“On my way, why?” I asked, clearly amused. Naina had volunteered to go

shopping with Martina so that Salvatore and I could have some ‘us’ time.

“I swear I’m just a second away from strangling her, consequences be damned!”

She gritted out. I could almost see her pulling her hairs out in frustration. I smiled

but held my laugh.

“Alright, have some control. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Hurry up, or I’ll not be responsible for my actions.” She said.

“Yes, ma’am.” I teased her as I snapped my phone shut.

“Naina?” Salvatore asked with a small smile. I schooled my expression for I was

still angry with him.

“Yeah.” I said shortly. I think I heard something like a growl but I refused to look

in his direction. The rest of the drive was silent.

“Oh, my baby’s looking so good!” Martina gushed. Marcie rolled her eyes but I

saw the unmistakable pride in her eyes. I looked away, the feeling of loneliness

slowly creeping back.

I wish you were here, mom. I thought, fingering her necklace that now graced my

neck.

“Well, I’m going to dress up now.” Martina said as she rushed past us. I rolled my

eyes. I wanted to say that there was a few hours before the rehearsal dinner started,

but wisely kept my mouth shut. Instead, I turned to Marcie, fixing her hairs.

“So, you and Salvatore?” Marcie said, or rather sneered, breaking the peaceful

silence.

“Yeah.” I answered vaguely, not wanting her butting in my business again.

“Well, you move fast.” She said off-handedly, but I sensed the smugness in her

voice.

“You’re the one to talk.” I shot back, restraining myself from hitting her, hard.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she screeched.

“Do I need to remind you that it took you mere few days to move on your