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“That’s incredibly sweet, but … you’re kind of freaking me out. You sure everything is okay?” she asked.
A ball of emotion clogged my throat. “Recent events have just shifted my perspective, that’s all. We never know how much time we have, and you’re too important for me to risk going another minute without telling you.”
Pip sniffled. “Shit, Em. Now you got me all choked up. I love you, too, sis.”
“Love you more,” I whispered.
“Listen,” she said, sounding more like her normal self. “I don’t know what all is going on over there, but you call if you need me. Okay?”
“Absolutely.” I grinned. “Talk to you later, Pip.”
“Count on it.”
* * *
The followingweek passed in a blur of white lace, summer floral arrangements, and countless calls with the wedding coordinator. I only saw Conner once, and that was at our rehearsal dinner. We were surrounded by family the entire evening, preventing us from having any substantive conversations.
I wondered incessantly what he’d been thinking during the week. He hadn’t texted or called. Not that he was supposed to. We weren’t in love, and I would have been wise to remember that, but I’d felt like things had begun to shift between us. Then nothing. Like a summer storm evaporating into sunny skies.
The uncertainty left my stomach in knots.
I had no idea what to expect from him upon our wedding. I had hoped to get a feel for where his thoughts had taken him while we were at the rehearsal, but he was perfectly stoic the entire evening. The dinner was held two days before the ceremony rather than the night before. Our unusually short timeline meant there had to be concessions to tradition. I didn’t care in the slightest. What Ididcare about was that I didn’t see Sante once all week. Not until the rehearsal, and Dad made sure we hardly had five minutes together. He was sending a message. One I received loud and clear, but rather than deter me, it only made me more determined. Fausto Mancini would pay for what he’d done.
* * *
On the thirty-first of July,the day before I was set to be married, I had Umberto take me to my mother’s grave. The skies were unusually dark for a summer day. One might even have said ominous if one were superstitiously inclined. I appreciated the somber atmosphere. Something about the stillness made me feel more connected to my mother than if it had been a breezy, sunny day.
I found her ornate granite headstone where I’d often visited her during those early days. The monument wasn’t my favorite. Dad had ordered the design, likely thinking a lavish tribute was a good way to prove how much he missed the woman he’d killed. I knew better. And I knew Mom was too down-to-earth and unpretentious to have wanted a flashy tombstone over her grave.
“Hey, Mama.” My voice was reed thin from pushing past the knot in my throat as I sat cross-legged on the grass. It was the first time I’d spoken aloud to her since she’d died, and something about voicing the words made my grief resurface. “I miss you so much, Mama.”
I took several slow, even breaths to calm myself.
“I’m getting married tomorrow. I know, I should have come and told you before now. It’s all been a blur, though. His name is Conner Reid, and he’s Irish. Who would have thought?” I plucked free a blade of grass and slowly split it down the middle. “He’s actually not so bad. I guess it’s a little messed up that I can say that about a man who kills other people, but it is what it is. Maybe none of us are as civilized as we’d like to think.” I paused, my voice softening when I continued. “I wish I’d known the truth about Dad earlier. I wish I knew if you’d been happy or if it was all a show for us.”
My chest constricted so tight that my shoulders slouched.
“I’m so sorry, Mama. I want you to know that I’ll do my best to help Sante. I know you’d want that. I won’t let you down.” Reaching out, I pressed my hand to the grass where I envisioned her chest would be. “Love you always.”
A single tear broke free and trickled down my cheek. Something about talking to her made me feel like I was finally saying goodbye and moving on without her. Moving on to what, I didn’t know, but in less than twenty-four hours, I was going to find out.
“This was my mother’s.Your mom and I both wore it when we got married.” Aunt Etta held out a tiny, elegant cameo pin. “This can be your something borrowed. It’s small enough to easily hide under your skirt, and it brought us good luck. Here, turn around.”
“Thank you, Aunt Etta. That’s so sweet of you.” I did as she said, not arguing about the luck. She might have felt that way about her marriage, but I doubted Mom would have said the same about hers.
“With that gorgeous sapphire ring, a stunning new dress, and your mom’s old necklace, you’ve got all your bases covered now.” She finished tucking away the pin under my skirt and nudged me to turn back around. “You look breathtaking, little Emy. I know Leonora is here watching over you. She’d be so proud of the young woman you’ve become.”
Tears burned the back of my throat because I wasn’t so sure. Would she be proud? Or would she hate to see me walk the same treacherous path she walked?
I hugged Aunt Etta and thanked her through a swelling sense of panic. Impending doom clawed at me, making me feel like the walls were pressing in around me. “Do you think you could go get Conner for me?” I asked in a shrill voice.
Her brows knitted tightly together. “Are you sure, sweetie? You know the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride…”
“Please, Aunt Etta. I need to talk to him before I do this.”
She nodded, concern etched in the creases of her eyes as she left the room. I wanted to pace. Nervous energy coiled in my muscles, making it hard to sit still, but the train on my dress made pacing a challenge. Instead, I stood at a window and watched the leaves on a large oak beside the church sway in the breeze until an ominous awareness moved through me, lighting a fever from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. When I turned, Conner stood in the doorway dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit, his inscrutable stare bearing down on me.
I wanted to thrash my fists against his broad chest and scream at him for being so insufferably handsome yet seemingly unreachable. I hadn’t known him long, but I wasn’t sure an eternity would be enough to fully understand this complicated man. But I wanted to. I wantedhim, and I hated myself for it. For being weak enough to want what I could never have.
