A Marriage That Will Never Be

I've been with Michael for five years, stood by him as he clawed his way up from nobody to mafia boss.

He promised me we'd get to city hall and make it official once he made it to the top, and today's supposed to be the day we finally register our marriage.

He's already postponed our registration eight times before because of his first love, Yvaine Price.

This is attempt number nine, and I'm not giving him a tenth.

...

I sat at the filling station in City Hall, the marriage application form lay in front of me. This is the ninth time we've tried to register.

Michael sat beside me scrolling through his phone. He filled out his part carelessly.

I moved the pen to the date field. My hand trembled.

This time will work. Right, Michael?

I took a deep breath. I was about to write down the date when the glass door burst open.

"Michael!"

Yvaine rushed across the room, her eyes red and watery. She didn't even glance at me.

"Michael!" Her voice cracked. "I have this huge problem at work and I can't understand the contract terms. You have to help me look at it!"

My pen froze over the date field, I turned my head slowly to look at Michael.

He was staring at Yvaine, then at me, then back at Yvaine. A thin line of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Yvaine, I'm kind of in the middle of—"

"Michael, I have to sign this contract this afternoon!" Yvaine grabbed his arm. "I don't know what to do. Please. You're the only one who understands this stuff."

I watched Michael's face change. That familiar look of guilt mixed with concern.

Here we go again.

The first time flashed through my mind. We'd been standing outside City Hall, Michael's phone rang.

"Yvaine just got back from abroad. I have to pick her up from the airport."

He'd left me standing there on the steps, watching his car disappear around the corner.

The second time, we'd made it all the way to the door. Michael's phone buzzed. He read the message and his face went white.

"Yvaine's in the hospital. Allergic reaction. I'm sorry, I have to go."

Third time. We were in the parking lot. "Yvaine's going bungee jumping and she's scared. She needs me there."

Fourth time. Fifth time. Sixth time. Seventh time. Eighth time.

Always Yvaine. Always an emergency. Always "next time we'll make it, I promise."

And I'd said okay every single time.

But this is number nine.

"Remy..." Michael was looking at me now, his eyes pleading. "I..."

I put down the pen, a strange calm washed over me. I laughed.

Michael froze. "Remy?"

"It's fine," I said. "Work is important. Go ahead."

Relief flooded Michael's face so fast. He stood up quickly, grabbing his jacket.

"Thank you for understanding. We'll come back next time, I swear. Next time we'll definitely get registered."

He said the same thing last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

I watched him leave with Yvaine. The room felt too bright and too loud suddenly.

I looked down at the application form in front of me. I tore it in half.

Nine times I waited.

Nine times he chose her.

I let the pieces fall into the trash can beside the filling station.

I stood up and walked out without looking back.

Outside, it was colder than I expected. I sat down on a bench near the steps and pulled out my phone.

My email inbox was full. Dozens of unread messages, all job offers I'd been ignoring for months. I scrolled through them.

Then I saw it.

Re: Senior Strategic Planning Director - Corleone Family Enterprises

I stared at that name for a long moment.

Corleone.

Three years ago, the Sullivan family raided a Corleone shipment at the docks, stealing millions in goods. The attack killed a Corleone member, triggering three months of brutal gang warfare.

When higher powers finally brokered a truce, the Sullivans were permanently banned from Manhattan, which became exclusive Corleone territory.

Manhattan. The heart of Corleone territory. The one place Michael's family could never touch.

My thumbs moved over the keyboard.

Dear Mr. Corleone,

I'm honored to accept your offer. When can I start?

Best regards,

Remy Cooper

My finger hovered over the send button.

Then I pressed it.

Michael, when I get to Manhattan, everything between us is over.