I saw a layer of life tacked tight along every edge, a mirage she held high and strong to ensure not a soul could see what was on the other side, but I saw it.

I saw because it mirrored my own.

A desperate need to fucking breathe.

To scream, to be selfish and senseless, and to do it with her middle fingers held high.

To do all she wanted or do nothing at all and it be okay.

The girl was tired, bored.

Bold.

But she was holding back because the world around her wasn’t ready for what she had in her, and she’d repressed life for so long, even she was clueless.

I was not.

I knew what she was capable of and I wanted every bit of it.

I needed to know her, to be hers, and she sure as fuck had to be mine.

It was a slow process, but every time her eyes found mine, I saw a little more, a bit deeper.

And then I had her, tasted her, slid inside her, and if I had a single doubt before, it died that night.

She said she didn’t feel, when really, she felt so much she hid it away in fear.

She said she didn’t believe in love, yet she fucked like she was made of it.

She loved; she just didn’t know it because she had no one to show her what it meant.

I had my sister, my two best friends, so in some ways, I was richer than my little rich girl, but even so, she fell. She loved me long before she realized it.

But my baby knows it now, and I sure as hell will never let her forget it.

“Mr. Rossi.”

My head snaps to the priest and across from me, a raspy little chuckle fills the air.

“Your vows, son,” he prompts.

The man nods encouragingly, but I shake my head and my girl laughs a little louder, my boys doing the same from my left. They know I don’t want to share what’s going on inside my head with anyone else.

I squeeze Jameson’s hands, my eyes landing on hers again. “Skip to the end,” I say to the man.

Jameson’s lips curl up high, the red painted along them testing my patience.

She knew what she was doing when she put it on, same as she did when she slid into her dress, a form-fitting thing the exact shade of those perfectly pouty lips.

The devilish piece hides every bit of her skin from me with the exception of her hands and neck, but while I can’t say for sure from where I’m standing, I’ve got a feeling her back might be bare.

My eyes cut over her shoulder, meeting Sienna’s as if she’ll reveal the answer, but my sister only smiles.