Cerise stood next to him, her eyes solid, but there was the twisting again. I had to admit, standing next to one another, she and Livio made a fine-looking couple.
I slid my hand along Brando’s back, until I came to his waist, and wiggled my fingers for his to find mine. He couldn’t fight one handed, could he?
Livio lifted his hands, palms forward. “I come in peace,” he said in Italian.
Donato begged off the group he was talking to and came to stand on the sidelines, watching the situation while he sipped on his own whiskey.
“Is there a problem?” Donato asked in Italian, his eyes hard on Livio.
“No,” Brando said in the same language. “No problem at all.”
“I did not come to fight,”Livio said.
“There will be no bloodshed at my brother’s wedding,” Brando said. “Speak your peace and then leave my wife and me.”
Donato nodded at this.
“I know what he wants,” I whispered too low for anyone to hear.
Brando held his free hand up, so maybe he had heard. “You harmed my wife. You hit her where you knew she was sensitive. Then you watched as that piece of fucking dirt attempted to abuse her. I would have laid down my life for your wife’s. I cried for your wife.” Brando shrugged. “But you also helped save my wife’s life, and for that, I let you live. It would be a grave mistake for you to expect more.”
Brando purposely spoke in English, I knew, because he wanted Cerise to understand. She had very little Italian. Then he repeated the same speech in Italian so that there was no misunderstanding on Livio’s behalf.
“I would rather trade my life for knowledge,” Livio replied.
Brando stared at him for a minute or two until I took a step forward, releasing the hold I had. Taking Brando’s arm instead, I squeezed, and looked up at him—no, I wouldn’t do this unless he could live with it.
He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “If you can live with it,” he said, “I can.”
I nodded, and then turned to face Livio and Cerise. I held out my hands for both. When Livio took mine, I wanted to recoil, but I didn’t. Forgiveness meant letting go.
“She’s solid,” I said. “That’s all we ever wanted for you, Livio. I’m sorry that—that you didn’t get to have that with Santina. But things have changed, this time.”
“Sissy!” Romeo’s sudden appearance snapped me out of the trance that I had been in. “Bun head!”
Our linked hands pulled apart, and Brando took mine. He took the one that had touched Livio’s. I knew him well enough to know that he wanted to replace the feel of Livio’s with his own.
Romeo stopped when he noticed Livio. He didn’t say anything, and I hoped he wouldn’t. This was his wedding, no time for anything but love.
“Dance with me!” Romeo said, and then he felt my head. I slapped him away, but he only laughed, real raspy. “No fever. You are just flushed.”
Brando gave me a curious look, feeling my head too.
That was my chance to escape to the dance floor, blaming it on too much champagne and the thrill of the night.
* * *
Three days later, we made a quick detour to Tuscany, to spend a week at our villa before returning to Natchitoches. I locked myself in the bathroom, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror.
If the cross around my neck had been anything but real, the metal would have peeled off from my insistent stroking.
I took out my phone and dialed Violet. She answered on the second ring.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, not even bothering with hello.
“I slapped Mitch!” she blurted.
“What? Why?”
