My heart squeezes thinking of that dear old man and wishing he could’ve shared this day with us. “Carlo made a similar joke about me dancing barefoot when…” I shut my mouth, remembering how he’d teased me that night when I made a deal with the devil. My guard had been down then and looked at what happened.
“I hope you’ll be happier than… At least in the early years, it was okay.”
My mood sinks, understanding her and remembering Da. She loved him even when he was awful to her, even as she tried and failed to protect her children from his rages. He shit all over her love, loving himself more. I reach for her hand, knowing she wants the best for me. It trembles under my touch, and my mood sinks further. This must be so hard for her after years of avoiding crowds and gatherings such as this because of the shame he caused.
“How have you been since I left Vegas?” I ask.
“I miss you, but I’m content living under Alessio’s roof. Caterina is a sweet girl and good company.” I’m glad. Things would be terribly awkward if she remained with Enzo after Rocco’s death. “I wish Gia could stay with us longer,” she adds.
We both glance at my cousin who’s dancing with her husband. She’s perfected her mafia trophy wife act in public despite Ritchie being a Grade A Asshole. I doubt Mom notices, but Armando is glaring at them from beside the bar.
“What if you had the option to live somewhere else… If you could live with Ronan…”
Mom gives me an alarmed look. “Alessio wouldn’t allow that.”
“Alessio is your nephew. Ronan is your son. They don’t own you. Who would you want to live with?” I have to know her feelings on this matter since Ronan has made up his mind about what’s best for us. “Hypothetically, what would you choose, Mom?”
With a sigh, she answers, “To live with Ronan would mean living in Boston again. Don’t look so surprised at me knowing that, Francesca. As soon as you told me he was alive, I knew who he must have turned to after my brother’s men failed to kill him. I cannot express in words what it means to me knowing my son is alive, but I wouldn’t go back to Boston.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “My children are half-Irish, but I’m not. I don’t belong in the BRG. The Vegas Trio is my home. I wish it was Ronan’s, too, but how could he trust them again after everything? I miss my son, as I miss you, but we don’t always get to keep our children close once they’ve grown. I knew that ever since my father arranged my own marriage. I knew it the second your brother came into my life and made me a mother. Just knowing he’s okay can be enough compared to the alternative.”
Her words settle over me, and her acceptance is easier to understand than I expected. I may fight Carlo on certain matters, I will not cower or lie down when I think I’m right, but I’ve grown to accept the idea of sharing my life with him. In fact, I can't picture my life any other way at this point.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but I believe it’s my turn to dance with the bride.” Don Daniele Vicini holds out his hand expectantly.
“Of course,” I reply. I wouldn't dare refuse him.
The music has grown noticeably louder as we take to the floor. I ignore the way the steady beat thrums through my chest and try to think of something pleasantly dull to say, but Daniele is quicker to speak. “I won’t pretend this was a match I had in mind for my heir, but I trust Carlo’s judgement on the matter.” Well, that was blunt as hell. “I hope you understand loyalty better than your father did, Francesca. Carlo will be Don when I retire, and it would not do for him to have treasons brewing under his own roof. I know he would regret having a problem to eliminate.”
From blunt to an outright threat, how lovely. But something tells me that, unlike his younger sons, this man doesn’t know about my meeting with Ronan. “Betrayal wouldn’t serve me in this marriage,” I reply, stiffly.
“And what of your father and brother?”
“I have no loyalty toward my father, and my brother is a grown man. What could a girl like me do for him even if I wished to?” I ask, innocently.
His wintry expression shifts into a brief smirk. “Remember that, and we’ll have no problems.”
His attention shifts elsewhere, the matter decided in his mind, as our eyes are drawn to another pair on the dancefloor - Carlo and Giulia.
The little girl grins widely up at her big brother as he swings her around. Her patent-leather dress shoes are missing, her stockinged feet resting on Carlo’s polished shoes as they move. She presses a small hand against Carlo’s chest, nodding at something he’s signed. She canfeel the bass, just like when we played the low notes of the piano. That’s why the musicians are playing louder, I realize, and I am certain who asked them to do that. My throat is tight with emotion, and something even more dangerous wells up inside me when I see the unguarded smile my husband gives Giulia. I miss her company, but I miss him even more.
“Isthatsupposed to be dancing?” my father-in-law asks, harshly.
He doesn’t expect an answer, but I give one anyway. "Yes, the best dancing I've seen tonight. Giulia is an amazing little girl."
"Amazing? She's-"
"She's deaf, so what? You should be proud of her! Instead, you behave like a small-minded, old fool."
"You dare speak to me this way?"
"I'll speak to anyone this way when they neglect and wound their innocent child with their stupidity, especially when they do that to part of my family. Even you."
I feel a little short of breath the second the words are out, hardly believing I just did that. What was I thinking?!
I was thinking of Giulia.
