Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

“That’s true. I’m very lovable,” Elena giggles, and the sound pierces my
chest, a dull knife being shoved through flesh and bone and arriving out the
other side.
Shifting forward, I reach into my pants pocket for my wallet, retrieving
the photo I keep there. It’s a small copy I stole from her high school
graduation series that I kept over the years as a reminder that someone out
there could have a relationship with me, even if her father wasn’t interested.
Turns out, she doesn’t want one, either.
Elena’s spine stiffens, and she leans in, peering at the picture. “Who’s
that?”
Her tone is curt, significantly less playful than it was three seconds ago,
and I smirk, squeezing her thigh, practically soaking up her jealousy. “My
sister.”
“Your sister?” Blinking, she frowns. “That’s... the girl I met outside the
Flaming Chariot.”
“You met Violet?”
“She was standing outside on the curb, and said she’d tried going in
several times, but couldn’t get herself to do it.” Tilting her head to the side,
she studies the picture some more, seemingly lost in thought. “I guess now I
get why she acted so offended that I had no idea who she was. What kind of
wife doesn’t recognize her own sister-in-law?”
“The kind who doesn’t know what she looks like?”
Pursing her lips, she slumps back against me, removing her arm from my
shoulders to drop it into her lap. “Do you have other secret family members I
don’t know about?”
I hesitate, the word grandfather materializing on the tip of my tongue
before I swallow it down, not ready to open that can of worms. She notices
my pause, narrowing her eyes, and I smirk again, trying to play off the
silence as being distracted by her.
Palming her ribs, I glide my hand up, my thumb grazing the underside of
her right breast through the pale blue silk pajamas she has on. “Violet has two
brothers, but I don’t know them.”
Her throat works as I touch her, eyes falling to where my fingers continue
their ascent, engulfing her entire breast in my hand and squeezing until she
gasps.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Enjoying my wife?” I say, dropping the photo to the desk and dipping