Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

that I can’t translate, while Papá looks on and Marcelline studies her white
sneakers.
Self-consciousness flares in my chest as I come down, trying to
disentangle myself from Kal’s limbs. He resists, pressing one last searing kiss
against my mouth, before finally releasing me so suddenly, my knees buckle.
I reach out, grasping his sleeve to steady myself, sucking in a deep breath.
My lips feel swollen and raw, and I smooth a finger over them, trying to
commit the evidence to memory, since it’s the last kiss I plan on ever having
with him.
“Rings,” the priest says, gesturing toward our hands. “You’re skipping
steps, Mr. Anderson.”
“Kind of like you skipped courting, proposing, or generally asking for my
consent in any of this,” I mutter, watching as Kal reaches into his suit pocket,
pulling out a burlap pouch and discarding his gloves.
“Would you have said yes?”
I blink, frowning. “What?”
“If I’d asked.” He pulls one ring out, a simple black band, and shoves it
onto his own finger, then reaches for mine. “Would you have said yes?”
“I…”
In truth, I want to say yes. That my infatuation with this known killer
would’ve led me to do anything he asked of me. But Mamá drilled into my
head at a young age that such an admission was practically a death wish, and
so instead, I shake my head.
“No.”
Yanking the ring from Mateo off, he tosses it to the ground, replacing it
with a solitaire diamond.
His jaw tics. “No?”
Pulling my hand from his, I fold my hands over my arms. “No, Kallum, I
wouldn’t have. I was engaged—”
“Didn’t stop you from begging me to fuck you.”
“That was different. It was a—”
“We ask these blessings for them in the name of the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Spirit,” the priest interrupts, moving forward and gripping our
shoulders. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and
wife.”
He hesitates, sunken eyes darting between us. “Er… well, I suppose you
can kiss her again, but if you’re going to, I request enough time to leave the