Livia stands at the front in a dress the color of cream, curls a riot around the crown Alessia pinned there. She takes her job as flower girl very seriously. Each petal is placed with the same focus she uses for her drawings. When she catches me watching, she wiggles her fingers, all five, as if to say look how many petals left. I press a fist to my heart and wiggle back one finger in reply. Proud of mypiccola. Always.
Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s mine.
Cat squeezes my other hand. She is breathtaking in sea-glass silk. The orange blossom at her collarbone rests beneath a simple chain, the locket warm against my knuckles when I steala touch. Her eyes shine and the light turns them Mediterranean blue. We are a family in a church full of powerful families, but no one is counting ghosts today.
Rory stands beside Alessia with that small but undeniable curve to her belly. Alessandro has one arm around her and the other braced on the pew like he could shore up the whole cathedral with his broad shoulders. Bella leans into Raf and whispers a running critique of tuxedos that makes him grin into his bow tie. Uncle Dante sits straighter than the saints, jaw tight, and eyes wet, though he bats away every tear before it has the chance to fall. When Serena laughs at something Antonio whispers on the altar, the savage Valentino finally breathes.
Touching vows are spoken, then beautiful rings are exchanged. The kiss is pure Ferrara, a little too long, a little too smug, and a part of me is worried Uncle Dante is going to rush the altar and rip Antonio’s lips off his daughter’s, but somehow he finds restraint. Maybe it’s his wife at his side or Uncle Luca’s threats on the other. Regardless, the applause forgives them everything. The doors swing wide open when it ends, and the city pours in like light.
The enormous procession makes its way to the infamous Pierre Hotel. The ballroom gleams, mirrored and bright, crystal chandeliers waltzing above tables dressed in their finest. There is an inside joke in every corner tonight. Enemies once, now family.
It was just outside this very hotel that AntoniointerceptedSerena only last year andencouragedher into his limo. Few know the real story, but the rumors hum in the air all the same. Valentino and Rossi men clap Ferrara shoulders. Ferrara aunts pinch Valentino and Rossi cheeks. Tonight, the weapons stay in cars by unspoken treaty. I didn’t believe I would ever see the day, but here we are.
Livia spins under the chandeliers with a fist full of cake and two fist fulls of attention. Ale steals her for a dance, then passes her to Rory who sways and whispers something in Gaelic, probably a curse word, that makes Liv’s grin go wide. Antonio twirls Serena so fast her laugh leaves a comet tail. Vinny and Bella lead a small army of little cousins headed by my brother, Rex, in a conga line that terrifies the pastry chef.
Papàand my mother appear at my elbow. Livia spots them first. She slips her hand into my father’s—the hand that’s signed truces and death warrants—and the ruthless old wolf just… melts.
“Nonno,” she says solemnly, like she’s known the word forever.
Papàclears his throat, fails to find his voice, and settles for lifting her up with a care that belongs to a different man than the one the entire city fears. “Ciao, piccolina,” he manages, kissing her forehead like it’s holy.
My mom is sunshine at full blast. “Look at you, cutie,” she gushes, cupping Livia’s cheeks as if to check she’s real. “First grandbaby in the family and already the prettiest girl in Manhattan. Too bad we’ve barely gotten a chance to see her.”
“Are you two seriously complaining that we don’t bring her by enough, already?”
“We are,”Papàanswers without shame.
“We’ve barely unpacked,” I protest. “We’re still getting settled. It’s been a big move.”
“You keep saying that...” Mom throws me a smile, already smoothing a curl behind Livia’s ear. “I have a closet of tiny dresses and zero patience.”
“Dessert?” Livia suggests, priorities sound as ever.
Papàactually chuckles. “A girl after my own heart.”
And just like that, our daughter drags the Rossi patriarch and my gushing mother toward the dessert table, small handsin each of theirs, while the pastry chef visibly steels himself for whatever comes next.
I watch the chaos unfold, enjoying every minute of it. Still, I can’t help the sliver of fear that threatens to take hold. A part of me is sure this peace won’t last. Donal is still out there, but I’ve had a tail on him since my guys found thebastardohiding out in Dubai. He’s lying low and I expect it to remain that way. If he doesn’t, he’ll be handled before he crosses the Atlantic.
Shaking my head of the dismal thoughts, I wind through the crowded ballroom and out onto the terrace that faces the park. Guards in all black line every corner. Still, the air cools the sweat at my collar. The city breathes below, restless and benevolent. For the first time in years, I remind myself to count my blessings instead of focusing on the impending doom. Not impending. Everything is fine.
With all the guards hovering, I can’t help but think of Leo. “He should be here, damn it.” I say it under my breath and touch the railing like it could carry the message to the heavens. Gratitude always follows grief, the way the tide follows the moon.
“I thought I’d find you out here.” Cat’s voice reaches my ear an instant before she slips into the crook of my arm, chin tipping to my shoulder. Her perfume is citrus and rain. “Your daughter just informed Rory’s baby that cookies are a kid’s right.”
“Rory will need to know that for the record.” I kiss Cat’s temple. “How is my little flower girl?”
“Telling everyone she is the best at petals.” Cat tilts her head.
I can’t help but laugh. The doors open andPapàjoins us, slower than he used to walk but proud as ever. He looks at Cat with something like relief and at me with something like a dare to ruin this and see what happens. Then he surprises us both and kisses Cat’s cheek.
“Well done, Matteo. You did good bringing her home.” There’s an edge to his voice. “Bringing both of them home.”
“I did.” My throat tightens. “With help anyway.”
He nods once, the truce old and new in the same breath. “Now, go dance before your daughter riots.”
Mom steps onto the terrace a moment later, and we take our leave, leaving behind the most unlikely but still in love couple I’ve ever met. I guess I learned from the best. Inside, the band slides from Sinatra into something we used to hear through open windows on late nights in Little Italy. I find Livia by the edge of the floor inspecting the sugar roses on the cake. She looks up at me with frosting on her lip.
