Page 126 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

She gives a little giggle. It strikes me that I’ve never actually seen her like this—so completely and utterly happy. It betrays the fact that she’s been waiting for this day for a long time, despite the whole “independent woman who don’t need no man” spiel she used to give me when I was younger.

“Can I get you anything, dear?” an older lady asks.

She’s a big woman, but she’s sheathed herself in a gorgeous dress that glistens when she moves. Her hair is shot through with a fashionable gray.

“I’m good. Thanks, Aunt Marisol,” Mia says before turning to me. “Marisol, this is my sister, Olivia. Liv, this is Donald’s aunt.”

“By marriage,” Marisol adds with a wink. “It’s why I’m clearly so young.”

“Of course,” I say with a polite smile.

“You are certainly a stunner,” she says, giving me a critical once-over. She turns back to Mia. “I didn’t even realize you had a sister.”

I try to let the comment roll off my back. Especially since Marisol is looking at me once again with a teasing little twinkle in her eye.

“How old are you, darling?” she asks. “Twenty, twenty-one?”

“Twenty-five,” I say self-consciously, aware that more and more of the women milling around are paying attention to this conversation.

“Mm,” she says with a conspiratorial nod. “I know at least three very eligible young men who are going to be in attendance at the wedding. I can introduce you to them afterwards.”

My answer is immediate and instinctive: “I’m married.”

Mia’s eyes go wide. I see the ripple of displeasure scathe across her features. She looks away from me immediately when I try to meet her gaze.

“Married?” Marisol exclaims. “Really? So young?”

“It’s… new,” I say, blushing.

“Well,” she hums, “he’s a lucky man.”

Thankfully, someone calls to Marisol just then and she walks away, clucking impatiently. I, for one, am intensely relieved.

I wait for some snide jab from Mia, but she surprises me by patting the empty space next to her. She has to move her dress to make room for me, but I manage to sit down without stepping on her hemline.

“The dress has a train,” she tells me. “It’s ten feet long.”

“Whoa.”

She laughs again. “I know. But the plans were so elaborate. I just felt like the dress needed to suit the occasion.”

“Good call.”

A couple of little girls run past. They’re all wearing blush pink dresses with full skirts. Each one has a little flower crown resting on their heads.

“It’s going to be a big entourage,” she explains, following my eyes. “I have ten flower girls and eleven bridesmaids.”

I cringe at the mention of bridesmaids. She notices immediately because she turns to me with a sad little sigh. “I would have asked you obviously,” she says. “But with everything going on—”

“Say no more,” I say quickly, mostly to keep myself from breaking down. “I understand.”

She nods. “The two little ones over there are twins. Maxine and Caroline. They’re the youngest of the flower girls.”

“They’re all Donald’s relatives?” I ask.

“It was my idea,” she says, sounding slightly defensive. “There was no one from my side of the family that I wanted in the wedding party.”

I wince again, though I do my best to hide it. Mia is looking elsewhere and doesn’t notice this time.

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