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“Mom?” I returned her embrace, bewildered.
My father was right behind her, his dark eyes overbright with his own swell of emotion. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“But…” I swallowed down the lump that’d formed in my throat. “You can’t be here. If anyone finds out, they might use it against you.”
The whole reason we’d been allowed to leave the mafia and move to our new home in Boston was because our relationship was forbidden. Ciro Amato had almost killed us for it only six months ago. My dad was taking a huge risk to his control of the family by showing his face here today.
His lips thinned on a scowl. “I couldn’t miss my son’s wedding,” he declared. “Leo is keeping an eye on things back home. No one knows where I am.”
My mom stepped back so that my dad could grasp my shoulder in a reassuring grip. “I couldn’t let you get married without my blessing,” he said. “All I want is for you to be happy.”
“I am happy, Dad.” My voice wavered slightly as my throat tightened. “I’m happy with Ashlyn and Marco. Today is perfect.”
Dad eyed Marco warily, searching his stony face. After a long, tense moment, he embraced my best friend. “You have my blessing too.”
Marco was stiff in his brief hug, his features drawn tight in an expression I didn’t quite understand. Then his eyes shined under the bright sunlight, and he blinked hard.
My heart lifted. My dad’s approval meant a lot to Marco. His own father was a cruel, cold bastard. This blessing was probably the most paternal affection he’d ever received.
I rested a bolstering hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head slightly as though to clear away his more vulnerable emotions. I squeezed, silently reminding him that it was okay to be vulnerable around me.
“Thank you.” He finally managed to rumble his gratitude to my father. “That means a lot.”
The string quartet started up a new song,The Book of Love.
“It’s time,” I announced, anticipation fizzing through my veins. I was about to marry Ashlyn, and my parents were in attendance. I could hardly believe this day was reality.
“Let’s go marry our girl.” A wide, purely joyous grin softened Marco’s hard features. He only ever smiled like this for her, our sweet angel.
I was distantly aware of my parents hurrying off to join the small gathering of guests, but my focus centered on my destination: the floral arch that framed the perfect blue sky and darker indigo sea. The place where we would promise ourselves to each other. All three of us, together forever.
ChapterEight
MARCO
Ashlyn floated toward us, every inch the glowing angel that Joseph claimed she was. My pretty princess was breathtaking in her white ballgown, the sweetheart neckline giving me the slightest glimpse of her tantalizing cleavage and the fitted waistline accentuating her gorgeous curves. Pale pink, organza flowers tumbled down the bodice, delicate petals of fabric falling gracefully into the full skirt. She was nothing short of radiant, her brilliant smile and glittering sapphire eyes filling my world.
I was dimly aware of her father’s presence at her side, but as she approached, all I could see was her: my sweet babygirl, coming to promise herself to me forever. My heart swelled, pressing against my ribs almost painfully. I could hardly believe this day was real, that this perfect woman was mine.
Mine and Joseph’s, ours to share for the rest of our lives.
My best friend placed a hand on my shoulder, sensing the rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. My eyes burned at his show of support, linking us almost as tightly as we were both bound to Ashlyn. They were both mine, my family.
She finally reached us, and her father placed her hands in ours, giving his blessing over our union. I wrapped my fingers around her dainty ones, holding her with tender care. She beamed up at me, joy pulsing from her to wash over me in a warm golden glow. I basked in it, and my love for her swept through my soul in a searing wave.
On the periphery, I heard Jayme welcoming everyone to the wedding before Kelsey read a poem that she’d written for us. Ashlyn sighed happily, and a diamond tear slid down her cheek. I hadn’t been able to take in the words—she commanded my full attention—but she seemed moved by her friend’s speech.
Time moved slowly, and I languished in each surreal moment of this miracle. Everything came into sharp focus: the warmth of Joseph’s hand on my shoulder, the fragility of her fingers in my gentle grip, the glittering shine of joyous tears on her pink cheeks.
Then she spoke her vows, and I forgot how to breathe.
“I, Ashlyn Meyers, take you both, Joseph Russo and Marco De Luca, to be my husbands. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love, honor, and obey you all the days of my life.”
I noticed Joseph’s fingers tighten around hers when she promised toobey, and my foolish grin turned a touch savage. Yes, she would be our good girl, our sweet wife. We wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was Joseph’s turn next. “I, Joseph Russo, take you, Ashlyn Meyers, to be my wife, and these things I promise you: I will respect, trust, and care for you; I will share my life with you through the best and worst of what is to come, as long as we live.”
They had chosen a more traditional arrangement for their vows, but my proscribed words had evaporated from my mind. Instead, I spoke the truth from deep in my soul.
