All the women gasped, moving back, covering their eyes like the diamond was blinding them. Then they all laughed, rushing to hug me. All of them were crying.
I was too.
“Be honest,” I whispered. “Is this too soon?”
“Does your heart say it’s too soon?” Scarlett asked.
“No,” I responded right away. “It’s just that…”
“Rosaria is dead,” Stella said bluntly.
Nola nudged and widened her eyes at her.
“It’s the truth,” Stella whispered.
I almost said I wasn’t so sure Rosaria was dead, but I didn’t. Scarlett glanced at me but didn’t say anything.
“And it hasn’t been years since she’s been gone,” Mia added.
I nodded. “That’s it…the timing.”
“Who says grief has a time limit?” Maggie Beautiful finished her cup and handed it to Mia. “Would you be my Mia Gorgeous and fix Magpie another cup?”
Mia kissed her on the cheek and went to grab it.
Juliette handed me a cup and I sat down at the table, next toAunt Lola, and drank it. Aunt Lola took my hand, admiring my ring, and then kissed me on the cheek softly.
“You smell lovely,” she whispered, then touched my cheek, right where she had kissed it. “The women at this table still have too much decorum to say what needs to be said. I am old. My filter hasnotaged with the rest of me and has gone before my mouth. I will be blunt, as Rosaria Caffi had been her entire life. My nephew’s marriage was arranged. It was not a good pairing from the start. Rocco has such a romantic heart. Rosaria had an aversion to it, unless she could sing and act it out on a stage for the world to see and applaud.” She pointed above, then at me. “You were sent here for a reason. To save my nephew from himself.”
My eyes scanned the table, looking each woman in the eye. They all nodded at me.
“Rocco has never truly been happy,” Carmen said. “Until you.”
“We cared for Rosaria, too,” Scarlett whispered, just being honest. “It was different with her…at one time. To a certain extent. Like her or hate her, she was always honest about who she was. This all to say…we all just wanted them to be happy, separate or together.”
“My niece feels a flooding amount of empathy,” Aunt Lola said about Scarlett. “She is touched.” She touched her heart instead of her temple. “Which I am told you are, as well, but different, ah? This is neither here nor there; the truth is still the truth, empathy or not. And it cuts at times. Whether the person we are speaking of is here or not. It had never been right between them. It is not right now, even in death. She pulls at him not to love him beyond death, but to haunt him in life so she can continue to have her way.”
“She tried to seduce my husband,” Mari blurted, “before we were married. She did that a lot. Not going to lie. So…”
“The way Rocco reacted to Romeo and the flying nut incident.” Juliette shook her head, like she couldn’t believe Rocco haddone something so reckless by opening his mouth. But she had turned the conversation, and Scarlett squeezed her hand for it.
Scarlett looked away for a second before she looked me in the eyes. “The brother of my heart is no longer searching. He’s found all that he’s ever wanted—when he looks at you.”
“It’s…” Mia said, setting her hand over her heart, “heart-repairing to see and feel. Truly.”
Aunt Lola took my hand and squeezed. “You see?” she whispered. “We all love Rocco. Hurt for him silently and not so silently over the years from a place only women can. He was sick from a lack of love. He is cured now.”
“Over time, he’ll get back to who he was in the beginning,” Nola whispered, like she knew a thing or two about being sick. “Even stronger and happier than before—because he’ll know what it’s like to almost lose it all and be so thankful that he didn’t.”
Stella grabbed her hand and squeezed.
All eyes were on me.
I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks, and all the women stood, wrapping me in a group hug. The mood in the room lightened exponentially, and we discussed wedding plans, what was for dinner, how most of us in the room were from Louisiana. I was asked about writing and my criminal thriller and if I’d be writing anything new. When I mentioned writing a romance novel, which I’d have to get a new idea for, since I’d decided the other one was a personal journal, they were all excited, and we started going over ideas.
Children’s laughter echoed from another room.
Aunt Lola laughed. “Sounds like my Tito is keeping the children busy.”
