Page 88 of Worth the Vow

Luca shudders. “Shirtless men? Seriously?”

I shrug. “Are you actually surprised?”

“I’d prefer to not imagine what Nonna is into.”

“Boys! Get up here!” Nonna shouts, the sound blasting through speakers around the area and reverberating against the tall windows.

“Jesus Christ,” Alex mutters, coming up behind Luca and me. “You gave that woman a microphone?”

“I did not,” I reply. “That is definitely not one the hotel owns. Does she have one? It’s glittery. What’s the word? Bedazzled?”

When neither of my brothers respond, I turn to look at them. “What?”

“You know the term bedazzled,” Luca comments.

“So? I have daughters, man. Just wait until you’re there before you judge.”

“Boys, don’t make me come down there to get you!” Nonna yells. We all snicker as we walk to the front. Nonna points to where I need to stand, and my brothers sit in the front row. Looking out at our guests, I nod at my cousin Matt, his wife, Victoria, their three kids, and Matt’s mom, my Aunt Angie. I see a couple of Arianna’s friends that are now friends with Kate, as well as my buddy, Sebastian Garcia, who I’ve known since high school. He’s unabashedly staring at Isabella, and she’s either completely clueless, or she’s ignoring him.

My parents smile widely at me, pointing to a phone my mom holds. I see Leo’s face, and he gives me a somber wave. It looks like he’s still in a hospital bed, but I can’t tell for sure from this distance. I’m about to ask my mom for the phone when the music abruptly changes, and I look to see Hannah scurrying down the aisle in front of the absolute vision that is my wife.

In true Kate fashion, she didn’t choose white for her dress, and I couldn’t be happier. Now I understand why my mom subtly brought me a light pink tie, and corrected me to explain the color is called blush. Kate’s dress is blush tulle, with a smattering of flowers haphazardly scattered throughout the bodice before it drops to layers and layers of ruffles. Her hair falls down her back, now with matching pink streaks, and a diamond headpiece with matching flowers. Her bouquet is a perfect juxtaposition of bright colors to her muted pastel dress, and I can’t help but think of how similar it is to Kate and me. Her smiles that light up the room versus my stoic passiveness. Her happiness to my pensiveness. As Kate walks toward me, a spring in her step, I find myself meeting her halfway, not willing to wait another second before I can have her in my arms again.

“Hi,” she whispers playfully, and I know I’m done for. Taking her face in my hands, I kiss the hell out of her. She’s already my wife, so fuck these stupid traditions.

After multiple people begin catcalling me, I break off the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. We sigh in unison, like we know it’s okay to relax now. Today begins the rest of our lives together. “You ready to do this thing?”

“Absolutely,” she says with a brilliant smile. “Let’s see what Nonna has planned.”

Kate

“Dominic Andrea was always a serious child,” Nonna begins, but the mischievous twinkle in her eye tells me we’re about to get one humdinger of a story. “He rarely broke rules, or talked back. To him, rules allowed him to have clearly set boundaries. When there were no obvious rules, he’d watch everyone around him to see how they reacted, and only then would he decide on his course. Even as young as five, he’d wait to make up his mind based on how his parents or older brother handled a situation.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dominic breathes beside me, his hand tensing around mine.

“Are you okay?” I whisper as he dips his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Are you sick? Do you need to sit down?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I think I know where she’s going with this.”

“Now, now,” Nonna tsks. “Let me tell the story.”

Dominic turns his head slightly, peering over at me. “You can’t divorce me. She was your idea.”

I snort as I nod, then turn to Nonna and wait for her to continue. “Kate, did anyone ever tell you that Dominic would always smell his food?”

“No,” I blurt out with a laugh. It suddenly dawns on me that he still does, and I’ve witnessed Carter doing it too. My head whirls to him, and I see the hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “You still do!”

As everyone in the chairs laughs, Dominic leans toward me. “A little louder, baby. I don’t think the people on the fourth floor heard you.”

“But you do! And so does Carter! Is that genetic?”

“Who knows,” Nonna says loudly. “But due to his rather interesting way of determining if he’d try a new food, we had to get creative with ways to feed him. His mother realized quickly that Dominic enjoyed helping her shop for, and prepare, the food. He, of course, showed specific traits even at that young age, with defined rules and expectations for the process.”

“Jesus, she’s dragging this out,” Dominic mutters under his breath. Too intrigued with the story, I don’t respond.

“After a very successful meal at a seafood restaurant, Dominic was incredibly excited to help his mother prepare a meal at home. Now, you can imagine how difficult it can be to find seafood in landlocked Colorado. He was very specific in what he was willing to eat, and his mother drove all the way to Denver to find it.”

“Get to the point, Nonna,” Dominic groans.

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