Page 55 of Devoured


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“Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi.”

“Phooey,” she says with a wave of her hand, and everyone laughs. “You, my sweet bella, can call me Mamma.”

I take a fast breath as tears pound behind my eyes and threaten to spill. This sweet woman wants to be my mamma. I nod, my throat so tight I can barely swallow. “Okay, Mamma,” I say and Roman must pick up on the hitch in my voice because a second after those words leave my mouth he’s there, right there, pulling me into his arms.

“You have an amazing family,” I say as I turn to him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But we have a problem,” he says quietly as dishes clang in the kitchen.

I blink up at him, but don’t see worry in his eyes. “What problem?”

“Remember I told you they were interfering?”

I nod.

“We want a real wedding,” his mother says, and pushes to her feet. She holds one finger up. “Only then will I forgive Roman for getting married behind my back.”

I blink rapidly. “A real wedding? What do you mean?” I glance around, and realize four out of the five sisters are on their phones; the fifth is in the kitchen dishing up waffles. One sister is talking about flowers, one about a dress. My God, are they making wedding arrangements for us? “What’s going on?”

“They want to see us exchange vows. It won’t be a big ceremony. Just a small one with family.”

“Roman...” I’m about to say no, he’s done enough, but there’s a part of me that just can’t. I actually want this. I want this to be real with Roman, and...maybe, just maybe he wants it, too.

He puts his mouth to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers along my spine. “It will solve our problem with Richard, Peyton.”

Or maybe not.

“Please say yes, Peyton,” Lucy asks, and pulls me in for another hug. I take a breath, completely overwhelmed with all this.

Say no, Peyton.

No matter how much I might want this, I can’t go through with it. I have to say no. I have to.

“What do you think?” Roman asks.

“Roman, do you—”

“I do,” he says, and for a brief second it catches me off guard, like I might have actually just proposed to him and he might have just agreed. My stomach rolls, wanting so much for this to be real.

“Do you?” he asks, and the room goes silent—a huge task for this group, I’m sure.

I take in all the hopeful, expectant looks. I can’t bear to disappoint them, even though going through with a ceremony, only to nullify the marriage later, will undoubtedly leave me scarred and emotionally wrecked. “I do,” I say, and the girls all start clapping and jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute in Italian.

Okay, I need a minute alone here to get my head and my heart straightened out. But no, that’s not about to happen. The next thing I know I’m being led to the rooftop, with Mamma beside me as all the sisters bring up plates of food.

They set plates at the table, and the first thing I do is go for a coffee. Hard to believe I agreed to marry Roman, and he agreed to marry me, all before my first cup. I can only hope it’s strong. I catch the way Roman keeps watch over me as his sisters fuss and talk details.

“Yeah, sure,” I say when Emma suggests we exchange nuptials on the beach near the family villa. Questions about flowers, dresses and food get thrown at me, and my gaze seeks out Roman’s. He opens his mouth, no doubt to tell them to back off a bit, but I hold my hand up to stop him. His presence is solid, and I really like having him in my corner, but I’ve got this.

I’ve never had a big family, and I’ve never had sisters. This might not be real, and everyone is going to be devastated when Roman and I end this, but right now—even though my family comes from nothing, and they might disown me when they find out—I just want to bask in the love and warmth and exuberant energy they’re displaying. Can it really hurt for me to enjoy these ladies while I can and pretend that I’m family, too?

Yeah, I’m pretty sure it can, but I’m in too deep to pull the plug now.

“For flowers, I don’t want any of those local purple ones, they make me sneeze.” Roman relaxes and pushes back in his seat.

“No purple flowers,” Emma says, and we all laugh and dig in to our waffles.

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