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“Hmm,” Valentina says. “How about thrilled? Elio Titone is thrilled to announce-”
“No,” I cut her off. “That makes me sound fucking giddy.”
Valentina purses her lips and taps her pen against her chin.
“Excited? Delighted?”
“Definitely not excited,” I groan. If anyone serious in this city reads the words Elio Titone is excited in their morning paper they’ll probably think I’m on meth or something. “Delighted is a maybe. But it’s not quite right, either.”
“We could leave out any adjectives entirely,” Valentina proposes. “Elio Titone announces his engagement to Deirdre O’Malley.”
It feels a little cold, but maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t need to spill my guts all over the local papers and tell them about the ooey gooey good feelings I seem to have developed for my Songbird.
Yeah, that’s probably the best option. I’m about to tell her that when Curse suddenly pipes up from his seat.
“What about honoured?”
Elio Titone is honoured to announce his engagement to Deirdre O’Malley.
Honoured.
Like something sacred has been bestowed upon me and I’m down on my knees with the force of that grace.
“It’s fucking perfect. Write that down,” I say to Valentina, and she dutifully does so.
I cast my eye over at Curse, who’s gone silent again, wondering just when my quiet, violent brother became so eloquent. I guess it’s all those books he reads. Though he probably reads about a thousand words for every one he speaks.
“Alright, how do we want to handle the parents thing, then? Do you want anyone else listed on here, or just you and Deirdre?” Valentina asks.
“Our mamas,” I say firmly. “I want both their names on there. But make sure you write Florencia Titone instead of her married name.”
Unfortunately, there’s not an easy way to do that for Deirdre’s side. I could have her mother referred to by her maiden name to avoid associating her with that piece of shit O’Malley, but Deirdre doesn’t have another last name to use yet, so the name O’Malley is going to have to be on there anyway.
“Alright,” Valentina says. “Careers are usually included. What do you want to be listed as, Mister Boss Man?”
“Just put me down as a purveyor of multiple business interests,” I instruct her. “And mention Deirdre’s music. And her academic stuff.”
“Done. Is there a wedding date?”
“As soon as possible,” I answer instantly.
“OK… That’s gonna look a bit weird,” she says. “Ending off this nice formal notice with wedding as soon as possible! It feels kind of frantic. If you don’t have a specific date, you can just state the season. Like, winter of next year or something.”
“Winter of this year.”
I hadn’t realized Valentina was chewing gum, but she just about chokes on it when I say that.
Coughing and banging on her chest, she stares at me with watery eyes.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she rasps. “Miserable Ontario weather aside, there’s technically only, like, six weeks left of winter. It’s practically February!”
“How about the last day of February? That should give you enough time to prepare,” I tell her.
“Too soon,” my cousin says stubbornly. “Venues book out a year in advance and-”
“Valentina,” I interrupt, and there’s an edge of warning in my voice that she recognizes. She instantly stills and listens.
“You will get this done,” I tell her, my words very slow, crisp, and even. “This timeline is of paramount importance and I will not accept failure from anyone. I don’t care which venue you pick – I’d marry Deirdre in the middle of the fucking dump – but she deserves something nice so you had better make it nice. I don’t care who the venue has to bump to make room for us, and if they don’t wanna play ball then you can kindly remind them that Titones don’t play with balls, we play with bullets. You got that?”
