Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Her gaze falls to her fingers splayed across my collarbone, covered in
various rings. She tilts her head, deep in thought, eyes unfocused as she
seems to check out momentarily.
“You’ll find ways to make peace with it,” she says finally, kissing my
forehead. When she releases me, she offers a smile, but it feels forced and
wobbly; so fragile, it could break in an instant, its shattered pieces scattering
along the floor in ruins.
Clearing her throat, she clasps her hands together and takes a step back.
“There you go, figlia mia. You’re ready to be someone’s bride.”
I glance at the reflection, seeing a hostage trapped in an elegant white
gown, but nod anyway. “Should we leave now?”
Mamá nods. “I think we—”
“Miss Ricci!”
A member of the wait staff bursts into the bedroom, her cherub cheeks
flushed and almost as bright as her hair. She bends, gripping her knees as she
tries to catch her breath, holding a hand up to keep us in place.
“Mr. de Luca requests your presence.”
I clench my teeth, annoyance prickling against my skin. “He can’t see me
before the wedding, it’s bad luck.”
Plus, I don’t want to spend any more time with him than absolutely
necessary.
“Please, miss. He’s not feeling well, and says you’re the only one he’ll
speak to.”
Sighing, I look at Mamá, who shrugs. “We make our own luck anyway,
right?” Kissing me on both cheeks, she slings her purse over her shoulder,
heading for the door. “Take care of it and meet us at the church as soon as
possible!”
I stare at the staff member’s name tag—Marcelline, it says, printed in big
block letters—silently for a few beats, wondering if this is another of Mateo’s
ruses to goad me into a fight, or something worse. Still, I don’t want him
causing a scene and delaying the inevitable, so I follow this woman down the
hall to Mateo’s bedroom.
Once inside, I pause, noting that it looks as much like a guest room as the
one I’ve just left; with no hint of memorabilia or personal effects cluttering
the walls or dresser, it’s almost as if this room belongs to a ghost.
Or, I realize as I find Mateo sitting on the edge of the bed, someone on
their way to becoming one.