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“I could do it,” Tony offers.
Say whaaat?!“Are you seriously offering to officiate our wedding?”
Tony smirks. “How hard could it be? I can get my license online. I’ve been to a shit-ton of weddings and funerals—more funerals than weddings—but I can recite the garbage verbatim drunk. I can totally pull this off.”
My eyes prick and my bottom lip quivers. I’ve been crying a lot lately—the shit keeps building up.Get a grip, Jo!
Tony looks me over with an uneasy expression. “Ah, fuck! You’re not going to cry on me, are you?”
I throw my arms around him and start blubbering into his chest. Tony has no idea how much weight he unloaded from my shoulders.
Tony wraps his beefy arms around me. “It’s okay, Little Jo. I’ll start the process tonight. Shit, I even got the perfect suit for the occasion.”
“Well, that was the easiest wedding-planning catastrophe fix to date,” Punk says, fishing out his cell from his cut. “I’m still notifying Prez.” He steps away to make the call.
It’s nearly noon and many of my workers are finding shaded areas to sit and eat. I tug on Tony’s arm. “Let’s head over to headquarters to grab some lunch.”
Hades runs ahead of us, eager to beg for scraps. Tony too, doesn’t need to be told twice—at the mention of food, he’s practically yanking me along. He’s like a bottomless tank and never passes up an opportunity to feed his belly.
“That’s it! You’re Tank!”
Tony stops and looks at me. “Come again?”
“Your club name is Tank,” I say with a giggle.
Tony frowns a moment, mulling it over, before smiling. “Not bad, Little Jo.”
My mom is in her element in the kitchen at headquarters, putting double-decker club sandwiches on the counter for anyone to grab. We load our plates with sandwiches, fruit, and salad.
Tony places a noisy kiss on my mom’s cheek. “Thanks for the grub, Mama Holland.”
Beaming, my mom pats his cheek and joins us at the table. She tries to discretely hand Hades a sandwich under the table, but I notice and smile. Others come and join us for lunch. Everyone freezes when we hear a loud crash in the back offices.
Mom grabs my arm. “What was that?”
I rub my temple to ease my headache. “That was my fiancé finding out our priest ditched us. Tank’s going to officiate our wedding now.”
Mom’s face furrows. “Who?”
Tony thumbs his massive chest. “Me. Tank.”
With a sigh, mom leaves the table and returns with Tylenol, placing two in my hand. “This mobster interfering is getting out of hand,” mom snips, knocking back her own Tylenol.
Maceo storms into the main room with Gauge beside him. He locks eyes with me from across the room before marching over to me, bending, and placing a dominating kiss on my lips—the kind of kiss that lets me know he loves me and will take care of everything. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes smolder with intensity. He nods a thank you at Tony, and Tony nods back.
He straightens to leave, but I grab his hand. “Where are you going?”
“To get some answers from the priest,” he spits, his venom not aimed at any of us. He looks over at Tony. “Are you moving in this weekend, Tony?”
“It’s Tank,” I correct.
Maceo looks confused. “What?”
Tony waves his hands at himself. “I’m Tank. Jo named me.”
Maceo smirks and nods his head, approving. “Fitting.”
“And yeah, I’m moving in tomorrow,” Tony mumbles around his food.
