On their wedding day, after we had taken our seats in the church, Brando and I held hands, memories of our own wedding rising to meet the ones Romeo and Juliette were making.
Brando’s eyes became softer when Romeo’s did, and I started to cry when Juliette whispered ancient vows to Romeo in Italian—a symbol of her devotion to him.
Juliette looked resplendent in her white gown, the soft evening sun resting on her in benediction through the stained-glass windows. I could easily see her pining away on one of the ancient balconies in Verona, leaning over, whispering, “Romeo, oh, Romeo.” Her hair glowed a fiery red, bent close to Romeo’s brooding black. She was the light to his darkness.
When she slid the platinum band on his finger, the tattoo across his wrist was visible—Juliette. The one on her wrist had been there before she had even known him—Romeo. The Fausti tattoo was on his other wrist, covered up, but an image that was never forgotten. It marked them in this world, an insignia.
Out of all the brothers, Romeo had chosen a more traditional ring from the Fausti’s jeweler. We—the other three wives—had bands, though on my left hand the ballerina ring and matching diamond band came from a jeweler in New Orleans.
When Juliette reached up to fix his hair with her left hand, the ring and band and all its diamonds glittered in the tender light—its shining moment for the entire congregation to see.
I didn’t think the diamonds were as bright as the two at the altar. Love infused them with warmth so heavenly that I cried even more.
Brando took my hand and squeezed. He leaned over, close to my ear. “Have I ever told you that my wife has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen?”
I smiled and rested my head against his shoulder. “Yes, right after the priest announcedusas husband and wife.”
“Was that the last time?”
“No.” I grinned. “He gives me this compliment at every wedding we go to. Right after the priest—”
The priest gave Romeo permission to kiss his bride. Romeo took this seriously, and I could feel every woman in the room swoon at how sweet he was being. Then the priest cleared his throat and introduced the couple—now one.
“—does that,” I said, standing with Brando, laughing and clapping with everyone else.
“You still do.” He hugged me closer to him after the couple had made their way down the aisle. “Have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Ancora?” I breathed.
“Still.”
He took my waist in his hands, so large in comparison that I suddenly felt minuscule, and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.
“Just like our wedding day,” I whispered. “Perfect.”
He grinned and then took my hand in his. He blew against my skin, warming my chilled digits. “Your skin is always so cold, baby.”
“It’s the church. They always seem to stay cool, don’t they?”
“No, you just run at a lower temperature. You stick those frozen feet against me at night and it makes me—” He shivered and made the sound effects to go with it.
I laughed and then realized we were alone in the church. “We should go. We’re going to miss throwing bird seed at Romeo and Juliette.”
“You mean rice.”
“No, they found that it was harmful for birds.” I shrugged. “Seeds are better.”
“In a minute,” he said, taking my other hand. We were standing before the altar, our hands linked, gazing at each other.
“What?” I whispered.
“I want to die this way,” he whispered.
He was the most mercurial man that I’d ever known. Sometimes I wondered if he got this from Maggie Beautiful.
“Brando—”
“Not now, Scarlett,” he said. “When it’s time—this is how I want to leave this earth. Still linked to you, wrapped in your arms.”
