The Don's Wife

3 | Wedding Day

Never thought on my wedding day that I crouched down in front of a toilet, puking my brains out.
Perhaps I had a tad too much of whiskey last night.

As I was washing my face I heard Micah entered the bathroom.

"Did you get the advil?" I asked him while wiping my face.

"Here." He handed me the medicine and I popped a pill.

"Christ, you look like shit." Eyeing the mess that I am he couldn't help but chuckled.

I took a good look at myself in the mirror to verify Micah's remark and found myself turned out to be exactly as he said. Like shit. A pale face, bloodshot eyes, with dark circles under them as a finishing touch. Perfect.

"Well, that's the intention." I combed my hair at least so that they won't regard the heir of the Salvatore family as a tramp. "Now get me my tie and tux."

"Huh, you seemed to have calmed down. I thought you'd be shooting the priest right about now." Said Micah, curiosity reflected on his face.

"Aggression only breeds more trouble. And we don't want to add anymore to our plate when it's already on the verge of spilling, do we?" With a cold smile, I calmly stated.

After I had reached some insight last night, Natalia was it? became more enjoyable. So yes, I'm in a pretty adequate mood today.

"I see, I reckon you've found a way to take off a portion?" Amused, Micah was wearing his wicked grin.

"You could say that."

Making my way to the wedding hall, I crossed paths with father. Our eyes met briefly before I looked away and continue to walk pass him, until he stopped me in my tracks.

"James." I turned to him as he walked towards me.

"Father." I lowered my head to greet him curtly.

"I know that you're still angry with me for what I've put you through, and I apologize for the way I did things. But I just wanted you to know that I only did what's best for you and her."

Listening to his pointless apology wakened up the rage I've tried hard to bury. But I know that lashing out won't change anything. By the end of the day the old bastard would still get his way and I'll still be getting married. So it's best to set my feelings aside for now and remain focus on what's about to happen next. Though I do want to relay a message.

"What's best?" I chuckled wryly. "That's the least of things you know about me, father. And the only one who gets to decide when or where my life begins and ends is me, and only me. Not God, and certainly not you." Clenching my jaw, I supress every bit of my burning emotions and try to be civil as possible.

"You might not see it now, but you'll be thanking me later, son." Said father with a defeated smile as if he already expected my response.

"How I doubt that." I retorted quickly.

"Why today of all days?" I finally asked the question that I'm most curious of.

"I made a promise to a friend." Father smiled as he seem to be remembering something from his past.

"Oh and son, as much as you dislike it, please treat her well." And with that he walked away.

A promise. While the answer is obvious that it was a promise to Zachary Alderidge, the question is the content of the promise. What could it be?