JONATHAN'S POV
"Alright. I'll check up on her and we'll be there as soon as possible." I said into the cell and dropped the call, pressing the button for the 19th floor, which was where we'd or rather Danielle had made home for the past two days. I'd been even busier than I'd expected, which meant I left before she woke up and got back when she had already fallen asleep.
I opened the suite door with the key card, different scenarios running through my head, but what greeted me wasn't what I had expected. Danielle was laying on the bed in a bathrobe, the duvet fully covering her, and watching a Greek show with Greek subtitles. I checked my wristwatch, it was 3:30pm.
Ignoring the fact that she was ignoring me since I was sure she could hear me, I moved to the nightstand closer to where she was laying and picked the card and note I'd left there that morning before I'd left. The notes were crumpled, which showed that she had read it but intentionally ignored it.
I picked it and stood in front of the TV, stopping whatever crappy show she was watching so she had to look at me.
"What happened? I left a note for you." I was trying my best to keep my voice as calm as possible, since she probably had a reason for ignoring my instructions. She knew how much this party meant to me, damn it.
She shrugged and covered herself tighter with the blanket. I narrowed my eyes and gentled.
"Are you okay?" Was she sick? Had she stressed herself so bad she'd come down with something? I hoped not since I needed to be at that party and I couldn't go alone, it had been organized for us and it would seem rude.
She lifted her head up, and I was able to notice her swollen eyes. "Nothing." She looked at the wall clock across the bed and gasped, quickly moving to a sitting position. "I didn't realize this much time had passed. I just spent twenty minutes watching since the car wasn't ready yet."
A fake laughter soundtrack sounded from the TV and I grabbed the remote that was beside her and turned it off. It was beginning to really annoy me. "Explain."
She stood up and fluffed her hair, and I noticed her reddened eyes again. "I'm so sorry. I'm pretty much ready, but the number you left for the car hadn't called back to inform me they were ready, so I was waiting."
I shook my head. Not only had I gotten a call from the dress and make up shop, the driver had also called me to inform me that my wife wasn't picking his call. I'd also called her multiple times, but she hadn't picked.
"Check your phone."
She grabbed her phone that had been laying beside her and paled. "I didn't hear it, I didn't know." She whispered. She rushed into the dressing room and poked her head out. "I'll be ready in like the next three minutes." and locked the door.
I sighed and sat down on the bed. One thing was for sure, I was never going to understand women because what in thunder had just happened. Had she intentionally screened the calls? Or had she fallen asleep and was lying about it? I shook my head, getting rid of the thoughts. All that mattered was getting an appropriate dress for her and getting ready for the party that was beginning in the next three hours, and if the wedding had been an example, I wasn't sure we would be able to make it there on time.
DANIELLE'S POV
I put on jeans and a wrap top, berating myself. What had happened? I checked my phone, and it wasn't on silent. I couldn't really blame myself, though. The day before had been my father's death anniversary, and I'd distracted myself throughout the day, so I would be able to sound okay to my mom when she called. We both immediately could sense when something was wrong with our voices and I didn't want to give her anymore reason to worry, so I'd left the hotel after a fitful night and toured round Greece, eating all sorts of food and conversing with the locals that could speak a little English with broken English, all to take my mind off the spiraling hole I was terrified to slide down, and it had worked, to an extent. I'd been bubbly when my mom had called, been exhausted after trying so many things as well as trekking distances more than I was used to, but it had all come back to bite me in the ass.
I wasn't new to nightmares, but the one I'd had yester night had kept me down and depressed. Thankfully, I hadn't disturbed Jonathan. The same exact scene as the murder had played out again but instead, this time, I'd been the one that had pulled the trigger and the murderer had shot me after. The pen was also nowhere to be found, and he'd had a knife that he had used to cut my father before I'd pulled the final shot.
I took a deep breath, trying to regulate my breathing. Even just remembering was making me break out in a cold sweat. I'd spent the entire day crying, drained of energy and out of it until Jonathan had arrived. I still wasn't sure where my mind was.
There was a knock on the dressing room, a vast improvement from the bathroom I'd had to change in the first day. Our room had been moved the next day, probably because Jonathan had said something. I hadn't bothered asking.
I wiped my wet eyes and sniffed, staring at myself in the mirror. Maybe with how weird I looked, Jonathan would easily forgive me if we ended up going late. I hadn't missed the note of annoyance when he had come in.
He knocked on the door again, and I opened it and forced a smile. "I'm ready."
He looked like he wanted to say something but with a shake of his head, he left the room, leaving me to follow him.
JONATHAN'S POV
I stared at my wife through the mirror as people worked on her face and hair. Regardless of what I'd thought possible, I'd just spent the last two hours joining my wife in picking her outfit and shoes, a role I hadn't asked for but been automatically pushed to take, which had led me to sit on a chair and judge the clothes she wore as she came out of the fitting room. I'd eventually gotten tired and let the staffs of the shop pick, after two hours. Did women go through that normally, or were we the anomaly?
I narrowed my eyes as the makeup artist said something to Danielle in Greek. She obviously didn't hear, and she turned to the other woman there, who could understand and speak a little bit of English.
"What did she say?" she asked.
The woman laughed. "She says your face look bad. Are you mourning someone?" I wished she wasn't going to answer the question, as I didn't think Danielle was going to appreciate it.
Danielle winced and looked at me through the mirror, and I quickly lowered as if I hadn't been caught staring. Were all service people like that? It had been the same in the dress shop. There had been different opinions on her body. It was a good thing there had been nobody there to interpret to Danielle what was being said.
"Something like that." Danielle whispered, and I stared at her, this time meeting her eyes through the mirror.
The woman clucked her throat when it was translated and said something along the terms of no wonder she looked so horrible. Thankfully, the other woman chose not to translate that and just laughed.
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"Are we going to get there very late?" Danielle asked, the anxiety in her voice obvious.
I checked my watch even though I knew exactly how many minutes late we were and shook my head. "We're allowed to be fashionably late. But when we arrive, we have to show people that we are a happily married couple whose honeymoon was interrupted."
She nodded and started biting her lip like something else was bothering her. "Will they all speak Greek?"
I smiled. "Not really. People like them have to do business with different people, so most will be bilingual if not multilingual. You don't have to worry about that or making serious conversation. This is our first outing as a married couple, so most of them will want to see your ring, know how fun your honeymoon was, and other inconsequential things."
"Inconsequential." She repeated it as if I'd insulted her, and that nagged a memory from me.
"Did you really not understand what the women at the store were discussing?" I asked her. I really wanted to know if she was acting or was someone who didn't care. Why? I didn't know and wasn't ready to look into it. Even if she didn't understand a word of Greek, there was no way she didn't understand with the looks they were giving each other, and they had also described on their own bodies for her to understand, but she had just kept on staring with a look of incomprehension.
She smiled, "I understood a little, but it's kind of normal. They weren't saying anything offensive, and while I got the context of what they wanted to say, I didn't understand what they really were saying."
I nodded, then looked out the window of our car, already seeing the lights from our venue. "You said you were mourning." I mentioned it as a question, and the car stopped.
She shrugged and picked up her purse. "I said something like that. I was just remembering my dad."
I nodded and couldn't ask more as the doors were opened, and we had to make our walk down the red carpet. I came down, went to the other side, and opened the door, taking her arms as cameras and lights started flashing around us.