Brando was about to reach his breaking point. I could feel the tick. Once he broke, it wasn’t easy to set him straight. I put a hand on his arm to help keep him settled, and I looked up at her.
“Maggie Beautiful,” I whispered. “It’s time to tell.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. After a tense few seconds, she relaxed. “You tell. I can’t.” Then she turned and went back upstairs.
“The thing is,” I said, careful not to blurt it out. Brando had an idea of who sent the flowers, but I don’t think the family did. “Luca used to bring Maggie Beautiful wildflowers. Now they’re being delivered to her.”
Rocco stood up so fast that the chair fell backwards. His brothers rose, one by one, after him, all coming to stand around the mess and us. Tito put a hand on Lola’s arm, both of them turning to face us.
“Explain,” Rocco said.
Brando leaned against the wall, arms and legs crossed, eyes stuck on the shards. He shrugged. Not willing to take orders from any man.
“Has he sent them before the last time?” Romeo asked.
“No,” I whispered. “Not after he was arrested.”
“He has not mentioned this to me,” Rocco said, truly perplexed. “I am the one usually in contact with him.”
“He didn’t mention that you had a brother either,” I reminded him. “Nothing he does is by accident.”
Dario nodded.
Brando had not been around his brothers most of his life, but it was almost eerie the way their expressions could echo. God, they were all so beautiful, in their likeness and in their uniqueness. They were all sons and blood of a man who inspired fear with his name alone, and by all accounts, was as gorgeous as his heirs.
Not knowing what else to say, after a few tense minutes of reflection and deliberation, each brother left with his wife, a new worry added to the list.
Uncle Tito and Aunt Lola each took turns kissing me, each throwing a worried glance at Brando on their way out. Guido headed down to check on the monitors.
Eunice and Burgess came to stand before us. Seeing that something was about to happen, Brando stood next to me, his hand on my lower back.
“There’s no use in prolonging this. We are getting married.” Burgess took Eunice’s left hand and lifted it toward us. A simple gold band hugged her finger. “I asked. The lady said yes. All there is to it.”
I had seen this coming, though not so soon. Brando seemed shocked, though just by looking at him, you couldn’t tell. He had a face made of stone. I felt it.
“Oh, that’s—” I stepped forward, embracing them both. “That’s wonderful! When?”
“This weekend, at city hall,” Burgess said, but his focus was on Brando, who seemed to be meeting it in good measure. “Before the fight in Vegas. I want my wife by my side.”
Eunice giggled.
“We—”
“No,” Brando said, cutting me off. “At St. Augustine.”
St. Augustine was the local church we attended regularly. Eunice was a devout woman, and on many occasions she and I would go to church to…surrender it all, so we could leave with a renewed strength of faith.
Brando was right. Having a church wedding, even small, would mean a great deal to her.
Burgess turned to Eunice. “Would you rather a church wedding, darlin’?”
“I would.” She gave him a warm smile. “But I don’t want a big to-do. Just a few of us. A bottle of champagne at the bar. So we can have a first dance.”
“Well,” Burgess said, holding out his hand to Brando, “I think the matter is settled then.”
I nudged Brando. Brando looked at me, then back at the two, and then shook Burgess’s hand—the pressure in the air lightened but didn’t retreat altogether.
“I feel so much lighter!” Eunice said, pulling me in for a tight hug. “Oh, we better go to church. See what Father can do on such short notice! At least we have our papers filled out!”
