I bite my lower lip. “What is ‘I love you’ in Sicilian?”
“T’amu.”
I feel so emotional it’s hard to breathe, like my heart is swollen and fighting my lungs for space in my ribcage. I inhale hard, saying. “T’amu, Sir.”
He smiles down at me. “T’amu, little deer.”
I beam up at him, quirking my brow cheekily. “Already better at Sicilian than Max.”
After we dance,we serve my all-white, six-tiered wedding cake, and eat. Sir devours two pieces. So unlike him. A man who prides himself on discipline, licks his white cake from the fork like it’s something rare. Something to claim as his own. He always claims with complete passion.
We end the gorging part of the event. Before long, guests and important men, with only today to gather his favour, request my husband’s attention yet again.
Clay lifts his finger, pausing them with effortless authority. It’s a silent, ‘no, go away’. And they can read his subtleties as loudly as I can.
“Go,” I offer, soft eyes meeting his. “I’ll be here.”
Something similar to pride plays along his smooth smile as he stands, kissing my knuckles, before moving down into the large, lavish ballroom.
Eeee.
He’s proud.
I’m proud.
Kudos, Fawn.
The band has taken a small break to re-tune and eat, so soaring around us through the speakers isMake You Feel My Loveby Adele.
I am so full.
Surprisingly, the tiny ballerina a few seats down is a bottomless pit. Cassidy hums and leans back, rubbing the gentle swell of her food-baby beneath her cream bridesmaid dress. “I need to make space for more cake.” She stands and looks down at Max, still seated beside her. “Come dance with me, Menace?”
“He is a majestic dancer.” Bronson smirks, waving an unlit cigar towards his brother. “Beautiful brother—show us some of your moves.”
From the other end of the bridal table, Konnor laughs. “Ifbymovesyou mean stomping and shouldering everyone, sure. Show us, arsehole.”
Yikes.
Is he kidding?
Bronson’s shoulder touches mine. “Don’t worry about those two, darlin’. They love each other, really.”
Max grunts at Konnor, grabs his wife’s hand—who is Konnor’s baby sister—and tugs her onto his lap, plunging his tongue into her mouth, growling obscenely.
Cassidy yelps.
Konnor groans. “Fuck,my eyes.”
“Your eyes are beautiful,” Blesk says softly. Gripping his jaw, she guides his attention away from Max’s obnoxious display. “Just look atme, my green-eyed boy.”
“Don’t have to ask twice, Duchess.” Konnor kisses her gently—far more PG than Max’s antics further down the table.
Cassidy seems to push Max away and pull at his shirt all at once. They make-out for a few moments before she breaks their kiss, flushing and panting. “Ugh,you’re a menace.”
Then she stands.
From the guest table in the front row, Toni, Cassidy’s best friend, shoots to his feet, calling out to her, “Oh, my giddy aunt. Is it time, Golden Girl? Let’s get freaky.”
