Page 115 of Of Grief And Gratitude

I shrugged, since I didn’t know what that shit was. “Maybe just say whatever is on your mind?”

“I knew our father wouldn’t care about seeing you before the wedding,” Dante started, tugging his bowtie. “But Mamma would have talked to you, and she would have known exactly which words needed to be said.”

“Yeah, she would,” I agreed.

“I think she’d want you to know how proud of you she was,” he continued. “And she was. So proud. She always knew you would become the man you were meant to be. She knew Riona was part of that.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t reply.

“She loved you so much. I hope you know that,” he said, clearing his throat. “And the rest of us love you, too. I’ve never thought you were a fuck-up, just young. Mamma didn’t make it a secret that you were her baby boy, and sometimes that made me jealous because I didn’t get that time with her. But I’m happy you did. You’re a better man than me because of it. And you deserve a woman like Riona.”

It was more than I’d heard Dante speak at one time in years. “I don’t deserve her, but I love her more than life.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad view to have. It means you’ll always try to make her happy,” he surmised. He wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.

“As long as I have breath, she’ll be my priority. Even above the family,” I added, tugging on the sleeves of my jacket and surreptitiously dropping the camera into my bag. “You should know that.”

Dante nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

“Good.” I popped the memory card out for good measure and slipped it into the back section of my wallet for safekeeping.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around me, and I found my face forced into Dante’s shoulder as he cut my breath off with his tight embrace. I returned the gesture, patting him on the back soundly. He might not express emotion well, but he loved his family deeply.

My big brother pulled away and blinked rapidly, then cleared his throat. Twice. “Let’s go get you married.”

I grinned and took one last look in the mirror hanging on the back of the door, straightening my bowtie and smoothing my hair. Husband. I was going to be a husband. And Riona would be my wife.

It was odd to walk down the aisle to organ music as everybody in the chapel watched. My brothers stood up with me, in birth order, as was expected. If I’d had my choice, I probably would have designated Cosimo the best man, simply because we spent more time together. I thought about how he’d always tried to shield me from the bad things while he embraced the darkness. In a way, all of my brothers had taken roles in the family that would taint their souls while leaving me to live a lighter life.

My chest swelled with gratitude as the music changed, and the doors at the end of the center aisle opened to reveal my bride in all her glory. I barely breathed as Riona made her way to the front of the church, escorted by Seamus O’Connor. The man looked at me long and hard when he stopped before the priest, pointing his fingers at his eyes and then at me, an unspoken warning. I nodded, understanding he thought of Riona as his own daughter.

The priest prayed, and we all crossed ourselves at the end. He looked at Seamus. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

“I do,” O’Connor answered in a loud, clear voice.

Concentrating on the ceremony was difficult with such a beautiful woman standing before me. I lost myself in those cerulean pools, her pink cheeks, her smile. She’d distracted me so thoroughly that I almost missed repeating my vows. The emotion clogging my throat was genuine. I cleared it, then proudly repeated after the priest, promising to love and cherish Riona until death parted us.

I watched her lips as she mouthed her vows; the corners turning up in a soft smile. My chest ached with joy as the priest prayed again, presented us to the congregation as husband and wife, and gave me permission to kiss my bride. Riona beamed, and I laughed as I swept her into my arms, dipping her dramatically as we celebrated our first kiss as man and wife.

I looked into Riona’s eyes and spoke my own unending truth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I pressed my lips to hers again, deliberately eschewing traditional expectations. I was who I was, after all.

A loud crack echoed through the sanctuary, and wood from the cross at the front of the church splintered and rained down on us. Instinctively, I pushed Riona to the floor and covered her body with mine as gunfire exploded, screams filling the air.

“Romeo!” Riona cried out, terrified and clinging to the lapels of my jacket.

“Shh. It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.” I could only pray that I spoke the truth.

I’d left my gun in my bag, believing my wedding would be safe. I knew both the O’Connor family and mine had armed guards stationed throughout the building. Whoever started shooting was on a suicide mission.

There was a thud next to me, and I heard my sister-in-law Mia’s panicked scream. “Niccolò!”

I turned my head, watching red bloom across Niccolò’s white shirt as he lay there, wide-eyed and gasping. The others had taken up defensive positions behind cover, but none of them could get to us without entering the line of fire. Fuck.

“I need you to move with me,” I told Riona, who couldn’t see my brother past my body. She nodded and shifted as I pulled her under me and got us close enough that I could reach Niccolò. “Talk to me.”

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