Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Just not the one I’d been hoping for.
“Manache,” Papá grumbles, drawing an imaginary cross over his chest.
“My decision had nothing to do with you fucking him years ago, Carmen.
Cristo.”
Mamá tsks, taking a long swig of her wine. Her hand wobbles on its
descent, and I can’t help wondering if she’s mixing, the way the other mob
wives seem to, relying on a nice chemical cocktail to get through their
miserable lives.
“Oh, dear, did I expose some of Kallum’s dirty laundry? You two just
looked so... cozy together, I couldn’t fathom that he hadn’t told you about our
affair yet.”
Our affair.
The phrase tastes bitter on my tongue, like biting into a fruit that hasn’t
quite ripened yet, all because you couldn’t stand to be patient. Just another
day, a little extra self-control, and you might have bitten into something juicy
and delectable.
Instead, you’re left with the dull flavor of your mistakes, wondering why
the man you’ve fallen in love with shares anything with another.
Much less your mother.
My hands itch to wrap around her neck and squeeze for using his full
name so flippantly. Like she’s at all deserving of it.
Even without knowing the details, I know she isn’t.
“Except I told you the other night she didn’t know.” Kal’s voice is a hot
blade to my skin, laced with rust as it slices through me.
“Did you?” She shrugs one shoulder, humming. “Must’ve slipped my
mind. We talked about so many things.”
Looking at the hollow of Kal’s throat, the divot I’ve run my tongue over
more times than I can even count at this point, I lick my lips, afraid to go any
higher. “When did you speak to my mother?”
He flattens his palms on the table, his wedding band catching in the light.
“The other night, right after you went outside.”
“Ah, yes, when you so kindly tossed him into my waiting arms.”
“Carmen,” Papá snaps, rubbing his hand over his face. “What the fuck are
you doing?”
“The only way I would be tossed into your arms is if they were torn from
your body and set on fire,” Kal says, curling his fingers. “And even then, it
would be so I could join you in the afterlife, and personally drop you on