“Actually…” She trailed off.
“Call. Father. Patrick.” Cesare Sr.’s voice echoed through the vaulted ceilings of the dining room.
“Pops, I don’t know if…” Cesare tried to reason with his father.
“Call the fucking priest!” Cesare Sr. boomed, his face beginning to turn red once more. “Now!”
???
Father David Patrick was a tall man with sandy blonde hair and a few grey streaks that were getting larger and larger. He’d served the local community from his beloved parish for over three decades, and liked to think that he generally understood the needs of his parishioners. When he didn’t, he prayed for guidance and trusted God to lead him forward.
The Lombardi family had been one such matter. Cesare Lombardi II had been a devout man of faith, attending Mass weekly despite hisextracurricular activities. Father Patrick had watched Cesare and Eva bring their five sons to church every week for years. All the sons had come regularly and confessed willingly, except for the oldest son, also named Cesare.
Something had changed in high school, and Father Patrick had mourned the sudden change in young Cesare. He had come to Mass as required by his parents, but his actions had been routine and rote. He’d stopped coming to confession and had spent much of his time and soul’s energy on the nightlife of Downtown Philly that was so beguiling.
He’d heard rumors of course; strip clubs, nightclubs, and a different woman every night. His brother Dante had soon joined him in his exploits. The other three sons, praise be to God, refrained from becoming absolute, God forgive, man whores.
So it was a surprise that the following series of events occurred on a typical Wednesday evening: Monty, a driver for the younger Cesare Lombardi III, showed up in the confessional booth and handed Father Patrick a cell phone. It was even more surprising that Cesare himself was on the other line.
Quite frankly, Father Patrick deemed it a miracle that young Cesare was requesting Father Patrick marry him to a ‘good Catholic girl’, as his father, the older Cesare Sr., continued to emphatically insist from the background. Father Patrick of course recognized this for the act of God it must surely be and urged them to come immediately. There was no need to wait for bans to be read. Delaying this miraculous union would only be spitting in the face of such a miracle.
Cesare Lombardi the Third was about to be married; in church, no less.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
(Cesare)
“You know, I always figured Dante would be your best man.” Raffi muttered as he tied Cesare’s necktie. “I’m not bitching, I’m just saying it’s a nice surprise is all.”
“It’s not legal.” Cesare grunted. “We both know that.”
Raffi lifted his brows in amusement and looked pointedly towards the hall, where they could both hear Cesare Sr. talking to Sabrina as if he’d known her his whole life. “Sure.” Raffi grinned.
They were getting ready in the sacristy, a side room at the church, where the priest typically prepared for mass. To Cesare, it seemed fitting somehow to be preparing for a wedding in the same room.
Sabrina was with Enzo and his father in the back of the nave, the main hall of the cathedral church. As they waited for Stefano and Auntie Mirabella to arrive, Father Patrick was very excitedly making last-minute preparations up at the alter.
From the sacristy, Cesare listened to the echoes of Sabrina’s melodic voice and blinked, turning back to face Raffi. “I’m about to make some serious promises. But they mean very little if she doesn’t mean them back.” He frowned.
Raffi nodded. “Maybe there’s something to be said for taking a leap of faith. Listen to her out there with Pops. You’d think he’s talking to a long-lost daughter the way he’s going on.”
Cesare tilted his head to the side. “To be clear, the neurosurgeon who schedules his life in fifteen minute increments is telling me to take a blind leap?”
Raffi shrugged. “If you were rock climbing with her, would you trust her to relay you down a cliff?”
Cesare cleared his throat after a moment, then nodded.
“Then you’re already off to a better start than most of the married men I know.” Rafael clapped Cesare’s back.
A mild commotion picked up outside as Auntie Maribella’s exuberant voice could be heard, and Cesare identified Stefano’s low baritone speaking to Sabrina, offering his best wishes.
“Always so fucking formal.” Cesare gave an incredulous laugh.
Raffi frowned. “You know you don’t need to do this today for real, right? If you don’t want to. We can always tell Father Patrick it’s just to calm down Pops until we figure out what’s going on in his head.”
Cesare stared at his reflection in the mirror and swallowed thickly. “Pops seems to like her.” He attempted a casual shrug.
Raffi stared for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. “You love her.”
