Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“What do you think?” she asked, turning her head slightly so I could admire them.
“Beautiful.” But I hardly looked at the diamonds.
Her eyes filled. “Thank you, Enzo. I really love them, and I promise to give them back when—when—” But she couldn’t finish her sentence and those tears were dangerously close to falling.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s not worry about that today, okay? Today, they’re yours.”
“Okay.” She composed herself with a couple deep breaths. “Okay.”
I handed her bouquet back and reached into my inside jacket pocket once more, pulling out a piece of white paper folded into a square. “Here are your vows.”
“Oh! Let me get yours.” Bending down, she slipped one shoe off and took what appeared to be a large white index card folded into fourths from the sole of her red high heel. Straightening, she said, “Sorry. I had nowhere else to put them. I typed everything out and taped them to the card.”
“Okay.” We exchanged written vows, and I tucked the index card into my pants pocket. “And you’ll go first, right?”
“Right.” She wrapped the folded paper around the stem of her bouquet and laughed. “Why am I so nervous?”
“I am too. But we’ll be fine.” Our eyes met. “And listen, I just want to say thanks for doing this. It means a lot to me. I know you don’t really want to be my wife.”
She seemed surprised. “You’re welcome. Thanks for agreeing to be my child’s father. I know it isn’t what you’d have chosen.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” I said firmly. And then more words started coming out before I could stop them. “I’m going to take care of you, Bianca. And the baby. I want you to know that.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but right then, the door to the stairwell swung open, and Bianca’s sister Ellie appeared, Cole right behind her. “What the hell, you guys? We didn’t know where you went. Judge Reinhart says you’re up. Dad’s waiting for you out here, B. Everyone else is seated up in the courtroom already.”
“Okay, sorry.” Bianca looked up at me. “Ready?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Ready. See you in there.”
Ellie opened the door wide enough for me to pass her, and Cole and I hurried down the hall and up the wide stone steps. “Still doing okay?” he asked me.
“A little sweaty.”
He laughed. “I think that’s normal. I guess I meant, are you still sure you want to do this?”
I thought of Bianca—her teary eyes when she’d put on the earrings, her impish grin when she’d asked for help getting out of the truck, the scent of her perfume.
And okay, her meatball subs.
“Yes,” I said.
Except my reasons were getting all jumbled up in my head. I was doing this for myself, wasn’t I? For the company? As Cole and I made our way into the courtroom, past rows of benches on either side of the aisle toward the judge, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand: securing my future at Moretti & Sons. Marrying Bianca was just a means to an end, that’s all.
Nodding at the judge, a stout sixty-something man with a fringe of salt-and-pepper hair and a large belly under his black robe, I took my place at the front of the room and turned around. Cole stood behind me. Quickly, I scanned the room—my parents and the rest of my family in the front two rows. Beckett, Blair, Griffin, and Cheyenne right behind them. On the other side of the aisle was Bianca’s family, including old Grandma Vinnie in the front row, sizing me up like she knew I was a fraud. I had to look away. Italian grandmothers were known to have the powers of the Malocchio, or the evil eye.
You did not mess with the Malocchio.
At the back of the courtroom, the door opened and Ellie slipped inside, pausing a moment to grasp her flowers with both hands. Then she made her way up the aisle, her heels clicking on the wood floor.
And then, without any music or fanfare, Bianca and her father appeared in the courthouse doorway and began to walk toward me. Everyone rose to their feet, and a murmur of admiration moved through the crowd. I didn’t blame them—Bianca was exquisitely beautiful.
For a moment, I felt a genuine rush of affection for her. Not love, exactly, but warmth and appreciation, fondness and friendship. She smiled as she approached me, offered her cheek to her father, and watched as her dad shook my hand, clasped me tightly and thumped me on the back several times, then took his seat next to her mother, who was already wiping her eyes.
“Hey,” I whispered as we faced each other.
“Hey,” she whispered back. Her smile was confident and bright.
But her bouquet shook in her hands.
The judge began the ceremony, which, true to his word, was very quick. Actually, I barely recall any of it. I put a ring on Bianca’s finger. She put one on mine—a simple gold band. We solemnly declared that we knew not of any lawful impediment to our marriage, blah blah. It was all a blur to me—I couldn’t stop thinking about those trembling roses. They made me want to sweep her into my arms and carry her out of there, take her somewhere private and hide out from the world, just the two of us. No pressure and no business deal and no bullshit. Just her and I, together.