Page 70 of Naz & Roz

TWENTY-FOUR

“Roz, come help!”

“Nazio, get over here!”

Naz cursed under his breath as he had to go one way, and Roz was pulled in an entirely different direction in the back halls of the church. The last sight he caught of her was the apologetic smile and small shrug she gave him at the end of the hallway before she was pulled into a room, and gone from his view altogether.

Shit.

“Oh, stop looking so sour,” Catherine told her son, dragging Naz’s attention away from where Roz had disappeared to. “You’ve been with her all morning, Naz. I am sure you can go ten minutes without her.”

“Doubtful,” Naz muttered under his breath.

Oh, he certainly could be forced away from Roz. It was a whole other matter on whether or not he actually wanted to be taken away from her. Because he didn’t. At all. He wanted and needed to get as much fucking time with her as he could because all too soon, she was going to be half way across the goddamn world.

But today wasn’t the day for that. It wasn’t the day for him to get in to all of that shit because it was a happy day. Not his happy day even if he was happy. But a happy day nonetheless.

His sister’s wedding.

Cross shot his son a look from the side—a silent shut up, Nazio—as he worked on fixing a little boy’s tie—one of his man’s sons. “There you are, Junior. Go find your Papa, huh?”

“Thank you, sir.”

His father patted the boy on the top of the head before the kid darted off to find his father. Standing straight, Cross gave Nazio a one-over, and nodded.

“At least I no longer have to fix your ties,” his father said.

“That’s debatable,” his mother countered. “Naz, why is your knot—”

Naz rolled his eyes upward, and zoned his mother out as she started fussing over his fucking tie that was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with the knot, and by the time she was done with it, the damn thing would look exactly the same as it had before she got her hands on it. But that was his mother, and there wasn’t very much he could do about her need to fuss when she was stressed out. So, instead of telling her to leave him be, he let her fuck around with his tie for a good couple of minutes before his father decided to step in and save the day.

He heard his father’s chuckle. “Oh, leave him be, Catty.”

“But—”

“Let him go in and see Cece for a minute before we all have to get going and everyone starts rushing. She’s got five minutes, doesn’t she?”

Catherine passed her husband a look. “Fine. You’re not ready.”

His father was already heading down the hallway, ticking a finger over his shoulder as he went. “On my way there now.”

“Late.”

“The boss is never late, Catherine. Everyone else is always early.”

“He is when his wife says so!”

Naz couldn’t help but smirk at the way his mother fake-glared at her husband’s back. No doubt, his father knew it, too.

“Well,” Naz said, fixing the jacket of his tux, “if you’re just about done with your foreplay, I’d like to go talk to my sister before I walk Roz to her seat.”

His mother’s eyes widened, and her gaze turned on him. “That was not fore—”

“Mmhmm. Laundry room, Ma.”

Every single time his parents got in one of their moods, he was thrust back into the memory of coming home way too early and kind of finding his parents in a compromising position in the laundry room. He hadn’t gone far enough to actually see them, but with the way his fucking brain worked … he didn’t need to see to know. Or to create a goddamn image that was forever burned into his brain.

Stupid, genius brain.