“Ladies!”
Atta and I pulled apart.
Daisy smiled at us. She looked at me. “Oh, it’s the pretty Italian lady—the one with the truly handsome gent.” She fanned herself. “He isfine, girl. Where did you find him?”
“Ah.” I opened and closed my mouth. “I thought you owned the other shop?”
“I do!” She laughed. “Get it? That’s the name of this store—which I own too!I Do! Get it? I’m all about helping ladies in each stage of their lives. This one is the beginning of the rest of their lives as a married woman. My other shop caters to mothers-to-be and perimenopause and menopausal ladies. Do either of you know any ladies who could benefit from menopausal yoga and vitamins?”
Atta and I shook our heads—we did not.
“Well, then.” Daisy clapped her hands. “What can I help you with today?”
“A wedding gown.” Atta looked at me. “One that was in the window about two, three weeks ago. It was flowy, cream in color…”
“Also,” I said, lifting a finger, “it should be fitted, except for the train, of course.”
Atta exploded with laughter as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, perhaps thinking of the story I told her of Mariano and the swim dress, and I entwined our fingers together. We followed behind Daisy as she led us to the racks, telling us I was in luck, the gown Atta had described was just my size.
Chapter 21
Mariano
My heart did this weird fucking flip in my chest when I recalled my Annie’s words.
Not tomorrow.
Today.
Today she would be my wife.
The thought made me feel like I hit a dip in the road, and my heart was floating around in space.My hand stilled on the door of the jewelry store in town. My eyes turned to the bridal shop down the street, willing mine to walk out, and when she did, my hand came over my heart.
She was laughing with her cousin, both women holding small bags from the shop. The sun glinted down on mine and she seemed to glow, her long, thick, cappuccino-colored hair a halo around her head. The woman from the other shop, Dizzy, carried a large bag out. A bag that clearly had a gown in it. She refused to hand it over to one of my men, and she seemed to be insisting to set it in the car herself.
My heart seemed to do a backflip when I thought of Sistine walking toward me, giving me her hand for the rest of our lives, in the gown that was hidden inside of that bag.I knew she’dpurchased a gown a few minutes ago. I’d checked. She had the credit card I’d given her.
After Dizzy hung the bag up in the back of the SUV, my men took the other bags from Sistine and her cousin, the two women hooked arms, waving to Dizzy as they headed toward a diner down the street.
Men followed like soldier ants behind them.
Angelo said my name.
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes still on the diner, my heart racing toward it. “I see him.”
The “him” I’d referred to was an older man who kept staring at us.I moved my eyes and met his steady ones. He could have been looking at us because we were outsiders in this town. My cousin wasn’t the most subtle of men. Marciano said he was “bling country,” whatever the fuck that truly meant, but I got the gist of it.
Angelo Leone Fausti was a show stallion.
I could fit in with the landscape, but I was still a Fausti. I wore custom-made suits in my other life. I dressed for respect.Locals knew there was something different about us, even if we dealt with animal shit on the daily.
Or the old man was looking at us for a more personal reason. He wanted to approach us, but he was hesitating.
I tipped my hat to him. He tipped back.
If he had something on his mind, he’d speak to me. I opened the door to the jewelry store and walked in, Angelo behind me. The man, Brooks, who owned the store was sitting behind the counter, staring into outer space.
I cleared my throat. Cleared it again.
