Page 18 of Till Death Do Us Part

The story was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to tell Lo yet. How would that conversation even go?

“Soo… I met this guy while I was in the hospital. And guess what? He killed the guys who almost killed us. Then he took me to see them as a gift! Isn’t he a sweet carnivore? Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the strangest thing. He’s the guy I built in my head. Trippy, I know.”

Yeah, that wouldn’t work.

She took some of the blanket and we shared it. “No matter how you feel about it now, you’ll always be the most beautiful Miss Illinois in my eyes.”

I smiled. She did, too.

Babbo interrupted our moment by clearing his throat. He stood in the doorway with a cup of coffee. Paisano, his Bracco Italiano, came flying past him, jumping on the sofa, coming between me and Lo. We both petted him as Babbo grinned.

He asked us if we were okay in Italian. After we said yes, he wished us a beautiful day, kissed us each on the forehead, then whistled for Paisano to follow him. He was leaving for a business meeting.

My eyes stayed glued to where Babbo had just been standing. “Do you think there’s a registry or something to find matches for us? Like did Babbo find Carlo, Joseph, and Gino from a list?”

Carlo, Joseph, and Gino were my brothers-in-law, married to Isabella, Thalia, and Alina respectively. The men seemed tailor-fit to match my sisters, but I never really thought to ask how the mechanics of it worked. I just knew Babbo knew a lot of people, his roots in Italy were strong, and it was always an agreeable situation.

“Our parents had an arranged marriage,” Lo said. “Babbo knows how it works.”

“Yeah.” I took a sip of my coffee. “But we live in a different time now. That was way back when.”

“Uncle Tito helps,” she said.

Uncle Tito was Tito Sala, a famed doctor for the Fausti family, one of the most powerful families in Italy. Given their professions, Uncle Tito and Babbo became good friends. They knew each other from medical school.

I ate my toast, taking another sip of coffee to wash it down, tempted to tell Lo about Felice. Not about what he’d done, but about how he seemed to materialize out of my head, but she started talking before I could.

“He was right.”

“Who?”

“Babbo, about the arranged marriage. I shouldn’t have gone after Ben. I thought it was ridiculous, the idea of having my parents choose my husband. I rebelled because I wanted the choice. It’s not so ridiculous, Y. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking after what happened.

“Babbo and Mamma had a dream marriage. It wasn’t without its hard times. It wasn’t perfect. But there’s a legacy of true love it leaves behind. They fell hard for each other. They respected each other and the vows they took. I want that. I don’t want what the modern world has to offer now. It pales in comparison. Look how happy Isabella, Talia, and Alina are.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d thought I wanted that too. I’d never fought it. But after I met Felice, I felt myself being pulled in his direction. I had no explanation for it, but it was strong. Like a force. And it was one of the reasons I tossed and turned last night. He was forbidden to me.

Even more than that, Felice wasn’t Babbo’s choice, and he’d never choose a man like him for me. Babbo would never accept it.

My mind drifted, as it had been lately, but I returned to reality when Lo grabbed my hand again. I focused on her face and tried to ban Felice from my thoughts.

“My…guy, he’s an artist, Y! Babbo told me. His family lives in Italy, but they lived in New York for years. They moved back when he was old enough to be on his own. He goes back and forth, but he’s been into the Chicago art scene lately. He’s atorturedartist. Has some issues with social scenes. He’s reclusive.”

“You’re excited?” My voice sounded lacking, even to my own ears.

She either didn’t notice or didn’t comment on it because she went on with gusto. “Yeah, I am. He’s like my own canvas. He’s already bringing out the artist inme. I’ll light up his world with allmycolors!” She closed her eyes, probably dreaming of all the possibilities. Lo was a social butterfly. When she started talking again, her voice was lower. “This feels like a new start, Y. Something exciting coming for me. Something to look forward to.”

I smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’m so excited for you, Lo. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Me too.”

We both smiled.

“What about you?”

I knew what she was asking, but I wasn’t ready to answer. I touched my hair instead. “I need something new and fresh too. How about you give me a new cut before I leave?”

“Roma—”

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