Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Mario’s here. My brother.”
Al’s hand goes to his gun. “I’ll take care of it. You go take care of my daughter.”
I grit my teeth. “No. I have to take care of this myself.” I push past my father-in-law and find an exit to the church, my fingers closed around the handle of the gun, safety off.
Al and Sonny are right behind me.
“Hey what’s—” Joey catches them in the hallway and joins the parade.
I pause and put my hand on Sonny’s chest, stopping him. “You’re not armed. You stay in here. Joey, do you—”
Joey pulls back his jacket to show me he’s strapped.
“No, Joey’s not involved in this shit. Give your gun to Sonny,” Al orders.
“What the fuck is going on?” Joey demands.
“Carlo’s brother showed up.”
Joey purses his lips and reluctantly turns his gun over to Sonny. “I’ll stall the women. Make this come out right—it’s a fucking wedding.”
“Like we need advice from you,” Al mutters as we file out the door and into the parking lot.
Mario stands by a car, flanked by his two men, clearly waiting for me.
Someone ought to pray for my soul because I aim my gun at my brother’s forehead, right there outside St. Mary’s Cathedral. I walk swiftly forward, my gun arm steady.
Mario doesn’t move. His men stiffen, looking warily at the three armed men approaching. None of them reach for their guns. I press the muzzle of my Ruger against his skull.
“I’m not here to kill you,” Mario says easily. “If you want to commit murder on your wedding day, that’s on you.”
I suck in my breath, the searing pain of my brother’s betrayal still as fresh as the day he tried to have me killed. Suddenly I’m that young man again—shocked to the core, unable to believe my own brother wanted me dead. Slowly grasping the enormity of my loss because even though I lived, my life was stripped from me.
Mario holds his palms up, without making any quick movements. “I came to make amends. I was wrong. I sinned against you, and our mother and our father, God rest his soul.” He speaks in Italian, his voice so achingly familiar. He sounds like our father.
“Stronzata.” Bullshit.
“Truth.” Mario touches my gun hand and eases it away from his face. Snowflakes fall into his hair making it look salt and pepper gray. Or maybe it is salt and pepper gray now. “What I tried to do was wrong. I own it. Not a day goes by I don’t remember how I betrayed you.” His eyes are the same color green as mine. He’s stouter. Older. But otherwise, we look the same.
“I was terrified about leading the Family, and about Papà dying. I didn’t feel worthy. And then when I thought you were trying to push me out—I just lost it.”
Mario’s two soldiers stare at their boss in shock, clearly as surprised as I am to hear him admit any wrong-doing.
“I’m tired of seeing our ma cry on her birthday because she hasn’t heard your voice in four years. I’m tired of the guilt of depriving you of Papà’s last days. I have sons now—two boys—and I hate to think they would ever have bad blood between them like we have. So I’m here now. You wanna shoot me, you do it. Otherwise, I’m gonna hug you and say congratulations because you have a beautiful fucking bride.”
It’s a sign of my total weakness that I want to believe him. That my eyes are smarting. That my gun trembles in my hand.
I think of what Summer told me. That withholding forgiveness only harms me. On this day, when my heart is flooded with love for my bride, gratitude for my new family, it’s easier to let old shit go.
Mario opens his arms, still moving slowly. Probably still not sure if I’m going to murder my own brother in front of the church on my wedding day.
I stare at him. I go by my gut on most matters, but I’m not sure I can trust myself when it comes to Mario. I want to believe him. So fucking badly.
But I’m safe. My new family flanks me. They have my back.
I nod. Tuck the gun in my waistband. Then slam a right hook into Mario’s jaw.
His soldiers don’t move. Al and Sonny also hold still. Like everyone knows this is the way two brothers clean their shit up.
Mario takes it. Shakes it off. Opens his arms again.
I open mine.
Thump him on the back.
“Gesù Cristo, you fucking guy.” I’m referring less to the attempt on my life than him showing up on my wedding day.
“I hope someday you’ll forgive me.” Mario kisses my cheek, his own eyes wet. “I’m unarmed, so if you want to bring something down on me, do it.” He spreads his arms wide once more. An invitation to have at him.