Andrea tips his chin toward Stephanie. “This one got tired and quit.”
“Don’t lie on my name,” she scoffs. “I took an iced tea break.”
“A nap,” Andrea counters.
The two go back and forth, earning a hiss from Nonna to be quiet. All laughter dies at the clearing lined with candles and more rose petals. Benny walks toward me in a black tux with a red rose on the left lapel. His long frame fills out his suit with the lean muscles I’ve memorized. Hades and Ares follow, wearing red ribbons as collars.
“Where are their leashes?” Stephanie whispers behind me.
“Do not sing James Brown,” Andrea warns. “You already wore out ‘Please, Please, Please’ today.”
Remnants of the sun glimmer over Benny’s face as it sets and night comes to life.
“Hi, love.”
I offer a watery smile. “Hi. What is this?”
“Me showing you that you’re mine.” He takes my hands. “Our marriage is what we make it for however long we have.” The backs of his knuckles glide over my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” The words catch in my throat with a day’s worth of emotions. His nearness is so overwhelming that I miss the priest behind him, next to his uncle.
“Giulianu Bennici,” he says, kissing both of my cheeks. His dark gaze regards me with an impassive expression. “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who has stolen his heart.”
Did that sound like a compliment?
Questionable.
Just checking.
Benny guides us around his uncle in all black to the priest. Andrea and Stephanie join us in the front as the best man and the maid of honor. When it’s time to exchange vows, the priest uses Benny’s current surname but asks us to recite another.
Parisi.
Benny’s real last name before he changed it to become who he is.
A slow smile eases over his face. He mouths,my wife,and brushes away a tear. We kiss as husband and wife for the second time today, under the sunset, to cheers, rose petals, and Alfred’s guitar.
The things worth the most risk often require the greatest faith.
Benny kisses my lips again. “Pack your bags after dinner. I’m taking my wife on her honeymoon.”
Rose petals pick up in a breeze. Through fear and the possibility of heartbreak, I choose not to block my blessings.
Chapter 38
Happy Wife, Pain in My A**
Bianca
Agirl could get used to life on a sailboat.
Shit.
And my husband’s tongue.
“Mmm, sir.” I rock over his mouth with a death grip on my kewchie. The jaws of life on this man are dangerous.
I faceplanted into my gelato that quickly became a face mask once another orgasm hit. He told me to eat it, then put this good kitten on his beard, which has been glistening for seven days.
