“Mmm?”
“I… overheard Romeo. I didn’t mean to. I was looking for you.”
Our footsteps click on the hardwood floors as we make our way back to the reception outside.
“Still, you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. You know better than that.”
“What am I supposed to do, walk through The Castle with my fingers stuck in my ears?”
He growls in response. I barely refrain from rolling my eyes.
“What did you hear him say?”
I can’t remember exactly. “Something about… waiting until you told me. What’s he talking about?”
“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t listen in on conversations you’re not involved in.”
“Hey. You’re avoiding answering the question.”
He blows out a breath, and the stern, implacable look on his face is back. I wonder if I imagined any softness. “Let’s cut the cake. Let’s wrap up this reception. And later, when we’re alone again, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Everything?” I ask.
His eyes quickly dart away, then back again. “Yeah, babe.”
“Fair enough.”
It feels good to be walking hand in hand with him. It feels even better when we step outside and Marialena shouts out a greeting in a microphone, and the entire reception bursts into applause and hoots and hollers.
We head back to our family and friends and do everything we’re supposed to. Cake cutting, bouquet tossing, greeting and smiling and laughing. We eat pastry and drink champagne, and when the sun sets low behind us, and our guests begin to leave, we head inside where our bags are waiting for us.
“Tavi.” Tosca looks like she’s going to pout. “Why so soon? You just got here, my son.”
“I came to get married, Mama. You know that.”
She stares forlornly at the luggage by the door, as Mario enters.
“Got rid of her,” he says to Tavi.
Tavi looks sharply at me, then back to Mario. “I’m talking to her on the plane, man. Jesus.”
“You should stay,” Tosca says, reaching for my hand. “You can talk him into it. You’re the only one who’s ever had any sway with that pigheaded son of mine.”
I can’t help but smirk at that. Tavi narrows his eyes at me, but he shares a smirk with me, too.
“I may be his wife, but I’m not a miracle worker. I’m sorry. When Tavi makes up his mind…”
She waves her hand at me. “Oh, yeah. I know all about that. Still, come home soon you two, will you?”
Nonna presses a large plastic bag with something wrapped in foil inside. “For you,” she says. “Mangia.” Then she pats my belly, and tells me in Italian I need to feed my body to prepare for the baby. If she wasn’t so adorable and sweet, I’d roll my eyes. Instead, I kiss her cheeks and thank her.
“Hey! Don’t give her all the food!” Mario protests.
Orlando smacks his arm, hard. “Don’t be a dumbass. She’ll make more. Let her take it.” He shakes his head. “Jesus,” he mutters, as if he didn’t nearly get into an all-out brawl with Mario over a platter of canapés earlier today. The Rossi men and their food…
But I’m still hung up on what she said.
“Nonna,” I say on a groan. “I don’t look pregnant!”
“No look. Be,” she says, shaking her head. “Soon. We need many, many small Rossis. Fatten you up now.” She walks by Romeo and makes the sign of the cross. He only rolls his eyes.
Tavi shakes his head. “You trying to fatten up my new bride?”
“Of course,” Nonna says sternly.
Tavi grins. “Alright by me.”
“Hey!” I make a vow to do a few crunches before I go to bed tonight. Fatten me up indeed.
Tires crunch on the gravel outside the door. “That’s our ride,” Tavi says. “Let’s go, Elise.”
“Wait!” Angelina’s on the stairs, the baby over her shoulder. “Let me tell you goodbye.” She trots down the rest of the stairs, but on the last step, she catches her foot. Nonna and Mama gasp, but Orlando moves swiftly and catches her just before she falls, the baby clutched to her chest.
“Oh my God, that was scary,” she says before she exhales.
With a scowl, he nods. “I told you to be careful walking down those stairs.”
“Hey, I didn’t want to miss Elise!”
“She’s only going to Tuscany!”
“Alright, alright,” I interrupt. “I am going to go Tuscany and she didn’t fall, so let’s say goodbye?”
Yikes. I guess the Rossi men are all the same.
Angelina kisses my cheek. She’s got an odd look in her eyes I can’t quite place. I’m not sure what’s going on.
“You okay?” I ask.
She looks quickly over to Tavi and then back to me. “Yeah,” she whispers. “And here we are. Both of us, married into the Rossi fam.” But it feels as if she’s changing the subject. There’s something she isn’t sharing with me.
I smile at her. “Here we are.”
She kisses my cheek. “You were a beautiful bride, and your ceremony was the stuff of dreams, babe. Enjoy Tuscany. Call me every day, will you?”
I give her a huge hug. “I will. Promise.”
When I turn away, I find Tavi staring at us. I can’t quite read his expression. Wordlessly, he reaches his hand to me. I take it, and they break out in applause. They cheer and shout and clap their hands. I look in surprise at Tavi, who only shrugs.
“We like family,” he says. “And you’re one of us now. Be ready to duck.” He opens the heavy front door. I follow behind him. “Duck?”
At the very second the words leave my mouth, a shower of confetti unlike anything I’ve ever seen before explodes in the air around us. A myriad of multi-colored paper flutters to the ground and nearly blinds me. Natalia squeals with laughter, before she shoots something that looks like a squirt gun filled confetti right at me again.
“Oh my God!” Tavi and I run to the car, nearly blinded by the swath of multi-colored paper and streamers. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Orlando pop a bottle of champagne. It shoots into the air like a geyser, as Tavi opens the door to the car. Rice pours from the car like a waterfall.
Oh my God.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ beat the shit out of you guys,” Tavi says with a growl, turning on them. Mario snickers and Tavi points his finger at him. “You first, kid.”
Mario flips him the bird, but at the look on Tavi’s face, runs.
“Go, bro, I’ll kick his ass for you,” Orlando says affectionately, as a limo pulls up. There’s no way we’re driving the rice-filled car to get our plane.
“Thanks,” Tavi mutters. “Make it a good one.”
They’re joking about beatdowns like they talk about handshakes, and… well, actually, I’m not entirely sure they’re joking. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the Rossi brothers.
“Get in,” Tavi says, half smiling, half growling. “Before I have to shake your goddamn bra down for confetti.”
“Too late for that,” I say with a laugh as I slide into the car and collapse against the plush leather seats. “And I’m not wearing a bra.”