Page 119 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

John looked good in anything. Of course, he did. But a well-fitted suit, on an early February morning, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world, and looking at Siena? She thought he looked the best like that.

He brought their connected hands up from his side. Tucking her hand into his elbow, she was brought even closer to him while they climbed the stairs to the entrance of the cathedral-style church.

The gathering people at the top of the stairs couldn’t seem to drag their gawking eyes away from the two. It was a little disconcerting.

“Ignore them,” John said like he could read her mind. “Marcellos always seem to draw attention when it comes to church. Half of the parishioners think we shouldn’t be allowed to attend, considering who we are, and the other half just like a good soap opera.”

Siena swallowed her nerves. “Huh.”

Then, the people parted, and several men came down the steps. One, she recognized. Andino. The others, she thought she knew, but wasn’t comfortable enough to say. They met them half way up the stairs.

“John,” the man standing beside Andino greeted. “Good to see you this morning.”

“Uncle Gio,” John greeted.

The oldest man—his face weathered with age—smiled at them both. “You don’t come to church nearly enough, Johnathan.”

“I’ll rectify that, Grandpapa.”

Antony, Siena realized.

The oldest Marcello. A man she had only heard people whisper about, or spoken with great respect in their voices.

“Where’s my mother and father?” John asked.

“Inside,” Andino said.

John gave a little laugh under his breath, and his gaze darted somewhere higher on the stairs. At the people gathered, maybe. “What, he couldn’t come out and greet me or something?”

“You didn’t really give him a choice about this,” Gio said, his gaze darting to Siena. “You simply said this would be happening, and he had to make a choice.”

“So, his choice is to make me walk into church alone?”

“You’re not alone,” Andino jumped in. “We’re all here.”

“Yes, but my father isn’t.” John shook his head, adding, “And neither is Dante—the boss. So, not only did my father shun my choice, so has the family’s head. Someone could have given me a little warning about that, couldn’t they?”

Siena felt like she had missed something important. Like maybe the traditions and customs in the Marcello family were a lot deeper than anyone actually knew. Surface appearances seemed to be important, but it went far beyond that, too.

The hurt in John’s gaze—though he hid it everywhere else—was evident to her. Something about this hurt him, and she didn’t like that.

Not at all.

“It’s like deja vu all over again,” Antony murmured.

Everyone looked to the man. All of them wore masks of confusion. The older man simply chuckled at the attention turning on him.

“Oh, I get it,” Gio said, grinning a bit.

“What is so fucking amusing about this?” John snapped.

All eyes flew back to him.

He was so up and down lately. One minute, he was light, carefree, and happy. The next, he snapped at somebody or at something.

Never at her, though.

“I just meant,” Antony said calmly, “that there was a time once when your father stood on these steps with a woman whom he too made a choice about, and this same thing happened to him. He took my lack of presence out here to greet him as a sign of my disapproval, and rejection. It was neither of those—I was being cautious, and had something else to deal with.”