Page 154 of Wounded King
He grunts, not admitting anything. "I think he would like that. But if you'd rather?—"
I don't let him finish. "I don't carewherewe get married, Marcello, as long as I get to be your wife."
"Wife." He looks like he's tasting the word on his lips. "I like the sound of that."
"Vegas, hmm?" I kind of like the idea. I've never been a gambling person—I never had the money for it—but I am addicted to some of those casino games on my phone. More than that, though, the thought of seeing where I would have grown up had my mother not interfered intrigues me. "I think I like that idea."
"Good, I'll tell him to make the necessary arrangements." Something about Marcello's smirk tips me off.
"You're not using our wedding as an excuse to get my father out of New York, are you?"
He makes a zipping motion over his mouth. "Pleading the fifth," he says with a grin.
I slap his shoulder. "Marcello Orsi."
He laughs and makes his escape into the bathroom.
I lean back in the bed against the pillows and close my eyes for a moment, listening to the rushing sound of water in the other room. Undiluted happiness fills me. Absentmindedly, I twirl the ring on my finger, thinking about all the changes in my life over the past few months.
Felix jumps up and snuggles next to me. As long as he gets fed—Zia Rosa is spoiling him like there is no tomorrow—he seems to enjoy me lying in bed, being at his beck and call. Kind of like Marcello, I grin. No, that's not true. I know Marcello wants me to get better. I keep pushing the little cloud hovering at the edges of my happiness to the side, but for some reason, it's more stubborn today. Fine. Marcello isn't the only one fighting ghosts.
Having been shot at and almost killed is not a walk in the park. Recuperating from a gunshot wound isn't either. But like in my dream, I walked down into that basement, and I'm here to stay. The thing is: I wasn't killed. I'm here. And so is Marcello. I've made my choice of wanting to be with him, and I'm in. All. The. Way. So that little cloud of depression that keeps trying to get into my headspace better watch out, because I'm going to open the blinds on the basement windows and let the sun in.
I'm just about to win my little battle, when a woman's voice startles me. Felix lifts his head curiously. Sophia stands by the bedroom door, gently tapping her knuckles against the open frame. "Hey there," a tentative smile curves her lips.
"Sophia," I wave her over enthusiastically. "What a surprise."
"Marcello mentioned he got engaged to you." Sophia steps next to the bed, and I pat the side to invite her to sit.
"We did," I beam, holding up the ring.
"Good. I'm glad he finally found someone. You were really nice to me at the hospital." Hidden deep in her eyes is still a woman haunted by dark phantoms. Instinctively, I take her hand.
"We don't really know each other, but I like the idea of having another sister. I hope we can be that. And I want you to know that I'm here for you."
Her smile broadens. "Me too. I wasn't in a good place when I was visiting Marcello at the hospital."
"But you are now?" I ask, prying deeper than I should.
"I'm a lot better now." Her smile turns genuine.
Overcome with emotions, I lean forward to hug her. We are basically strangers, even though she is Marcello's sister, and I probably know more about her than she does about me, but just like with her brother, I feel a connection to her.
"I don't want to hurt you." Sophia returns my embrace awkwardly.
"You won't," I encourage her. That's all she needs. She hugs me tightly, just like Elaine used to do. It feels good and right.
"So, want to be one of my bridesmaids?" I ask when we pull apart.
"Just tell me when." She grins. "I knowtheplace for a wedding dress, too."
"Deal." I smile right back at her.
"Hey, sis," Marcello enters the bedroom butt naked.
Sophia's head whips around at the sound of her brother's voice. "Oh my God. Use a towel, you perv," Sophia exclaims, her head flipping back to me, her hands coming up to shield her eyes.
I giggle.
