Unbroken by Emma Fawkes Page B

about her as I run, remember her voice and her smile.
    It would be nice to see her again, but I also know that it will be extremely hard—to see her and hear her and know that I can never have her. Not the way I want to, at least.

    “ B ig day ,” my father says as I come down the stairs. He hasn’t stayed here, at his own apartment, in a while. Generally, he stays at Sabrina’s house, which I’m more than happy about. This way, I don’t wake him up when I scream in the night. But they’d decided to be traditional and sleep apart the night before their wedding.
    Which means I have the pleasure of dealing with him this morning.
    “You ready?” I ask as I pour myself a cup of coffee.
    “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replies.
    “It was very fast,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. We never talk much—except maybe about my health, or the Marines. But I feel the need to point this out today. I’m feeling contrary.
    “It had to be,” he grumbles. “There was no other time to do it. Next year is an election year, and Sabrina will have to start campaigning soon.”
    “Do you ever think…” I stop, not really sure that I want to broach this topic.
    “Think what?” he asks. His eyes are narrowed, and I can tell that he knows what direction I’m going.
    “Never mind,” I say, trying to drown myself in my coffee cup.
    “Say it, son,” he growls.
    “I mean… it’s a great political move—for her.”
    “It’ll be good for both of our careers,” he snaps. “Sabrina is a fine woman.”
    I don’t reply, I just nod.
    “I was thinking,” I say, deciding to change the subject. “I may skip out on the reception. I didn’t sleep well and I really don’t want to drive all the way out to West Virginia and deal with all those people.”
    “You will do no such thing,” he says, slamming his coffee cup down against the counter. “I don’t know what’s come over you, son. First you’re questioning the woman I’m supposed to marry today, now you’re saying you won’t come to the wedding.”
    “I’m coming to the wedding,” I say, exasperated. “I just don’t want to go to the reception. I haven’t been sleeping enough and I don’t feel well.”
    “Did you stop and think about what it would look like if my only son wasn’t at my wedding reception? Sabrina’s daughters will be there.”
    “Both of them?” I ask, almost trembling. “You sure?”
    “Yes, I’m sure. But don’t get any ideas. They are to become your sisters after today.”
    “I’m going up to change,” I say, no longer able to deal with him. My heart speeds up a little at the thought of seeing Milly again, even if she hasn’t forgiven me. At least I’ll get to see her. Maybe she’ll smile, and perhaps I’ll even get to hear her laugh.

    S abrina is already waiting when we arrive at City Hall, her two daughters flanking her on either side. She’s is wearing a white skirt-suit that appears to have been perfectly tailored to her body. Her blond hair is adorning the top of her head in intricate braids. She probably looks very pretty, but I find her cold and harsh. I shudder, imagining binding myself to that woman forever.
    The girl to her right—Madi, I assume—is very similar to Sabrina in mannerisms and dress, though her blond hair is cut short and her suit is a cream color. I’m afraid to hazard a look past Sabrina’s left shoulder, but when I do, I have to fight to breathe. Milly looks absolutely stunning. She’s wearing a pale blue dress that makes her eyes brighter than they already are. It hugs her body, accentuating her chest and hips. Her blonde hair falls loosely around her shoulders. I long to run my fingers through it.
    Milly doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t look at her mother either. In fact, she keeps her eyes focused on the ground as she follows Sabrina through the door and into the judge’s chambers where the ceremony takes place.
    I can’t focus on what’s being said. The judge is