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Her jaw dropped along with him. “Enzo, what are you doing?”
“Hush. I was hoping this would be easier the second time around, but for some reason I’m even more nervous than I was three years ago.” An adorable vulnerability shone out of his eyes. He cleared his throat. “I love you, Sabina. More than anyone but the Lord. I want you to be my wife.”
Unexpected tears stung her eyes, and she had the strangest sensation that it wasn’t just Enzo declaring himself. It was God, declaring this good. She wasn’t pulling Enzo away from his vocation. She was leading him toward it. “Oh, Enzo. I want that too.”
Little G’s voice intruded again. “Now what are you doing?”
Lorenzo’s lips turned up in a grin. He looked past her to where her brother undoubtedly stood in the dining room doorway. “Proposing.”
“Uh, Enzo…I know you’ve taken a bullet to the head recently, so maybe this slipped your mind, but you already did that. A couple years ago.”
Sabina sighed and craned her head around. As expected, Little G stood there with a paintbrush in his hand and the particular shade of disgust on his face that only a thirteen-year-old boy could ever muster. She grinned. “Scram, kid. We’re in the middle of something here.”
G held his arms wide. “In front of the door. In plain sight of every room in the house. Excuse me for living here.”
“I will,” she said, jerking her head to the side, “if you scram. Fully. To your room, now.”
He took a moment to return his brush first, muttering all the way up the stairs. She shook her head and turned back to Lorenzo, who still knelt before her, grinning.
“I suppose I’d better get to the point before we’re interrupted again.” Lorenzo poised the ring at the tip of her finger. “Will you marry me, Sabina?”
“Yes.” It came out breathless, but she didn’t care. As soon as he slid the ring back into place, she tugged him to his feet so she could wrap her arms around him. She reveled in the joy that surged through her, marveled at the wave of feeling that overwhelmed her. “I love you, Enzo.”
The kiss he gave her seared her lips, locking in the promise with a touch of fire. When he drew away, his eyes were bright and intense. “Things are going to be different this time, bedduzza. We’re going to be honest with each other. When we have problems, we work through them together. Walking away is never going to be an option again. Okay? This is forever.”
“Okay.” Another kiss was called for, so she leaned up to seal the deal. “Forever. Honesty. No outs. Got it, and I fully approve.”
“Good.” One more lingering kiss, and then he backed away, grinning. “I’m going this time. Really. Bona notti, me tisoru.”
“Bona notti, me amari.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him one last kiss as he opened the door and stepped out. The air she drew in tasted sweet, and her lips were yet again stuck in their smile. For a night that started out a horror, this was an ending worthy of a fairy tale. “Grazii, Lord,” she whispered, crossing herself.
As soon as the door clicked shut, a rustle of newspaper sounded from the parlor. Papa appeared in the doorway a moment later, his smile soft. “Sounds like the last of your wrinkles have been ironed out, eh?”
At the moment, she couldn’t even be mad at her father. She floated across the floor until she could stretch up to kiss his cheek. “Sì, Papa.” Her ring shimmered in the light of the chandelier, and she gazed at it as if she hadn’t seen it every day for three years.
“Good. You had me worried. I was afraid I’d hurt you so badly you wouldn’t even trust Enzo. That was never what I wanted, principessa. Your happiness, it’s everything to me.”
“I know.” She turned her gaze to his face. This past month had aged him, deepened the wrinkles around his eyes. A few of the shadows were no doubt her fault. But then, he had put a few in her eyes as well. “You did hurt me, Papa. But I’m not going to judge Enzo for your sins.”
Papa’s lips pressed together. “You’ve always known who I am.”
Hadn’t they already had this argument? Weary of it, she shook her head. She walked past him into the room and sat down on the sofa, knowing they had better finish it this time. She didn’t know where Mama had gone or why Papa hadn’t left, but she’d make use of the time. “Papa, I knew you were a mafioso. Yes. But I could tell myself you weren’t like the others. You raised us in the church. You taught us right from wrong. Then I hear you talking to a prostitute you’ve made your mistress about murder—”
“That’s enough.” He stood tall and rigid, the line of his shoulders defensive. “There are lines, Bina, that I can’t let you cross again. Don’t ask me about my business. Don’t make me choose where to lie and what truths to give you—you won’t be able to sort between them anyway and will resent me all the more. Just stop asking.”
Sabina dropped her gaze to the rug. “Even when they’re accusing you of murder?”
“You know I’ve spilled blood!” He paced, cursing mildly in Sicilian, and ran a hand over his hair. “You want me to assure you I didn’t do it this time? I can tell you that. I can tell a fine story about what really happened, too. But would you believe me?”
Exhaustion bore down on her and made her shoulders sag. Would she? No. She would want to, need to, but he’d just said it—he’d killed before. He would kill again. And he spoke lies as easily as the truth. “Papa, I don’t want to see you arrested again. I don’t want to see you killed. But if you keep this up—”
“Trust me to be what I am, Bina. You just worry about your wedding, about Enzo.”
Speaking of whom…she cleared her throat. “Did you talk to him yet? About this?”
“Mm, I stopped by this afternoon. His boss made an introduction to Darrow for me. Looks like I’m going to be keeping a lawyer on retainer, Sabina, but it won’t be Enzo. I promised him that again, and I’ll keep it this time.”
She rose, moved over to where he stood by the unlit fireplace, and wrapped him in a hug for the first time in over a week. He had more faults than she cared to count, but he did love them. She would just have to learn to accept that much and keep beseeching God about the rest. She would light candle after candle in prayer until the light of faith dispelled a few of the shadows of the underworld. “Ti amu, Papa.”
