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She swallows, then obeys, and I’m reminded of the first time I touched her in my father’s office. When I’d ordered her to lock the door and get in front of me.
I glance down at the three cards lying on the table. My palms are sweaty. My heart is pounding fiercely, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. I’ve been stabbed, held at gun point, beaten, and threatened by men three times her size, yet this woman manages to raise a fear within me unlike any I’ve ever known. I’m scared to meet her eyes. Petrified. I lock my fingers together to keep from running them through my hair.
“You read tarot cards now?” she asks, a brow lifted and a smirk tugging at the corner of her beautiful mouth.
“Thought I’d give it a try.” I turn the cards over, one at a time. All custom made. All just for her.
Her bright blue eyes fill with tears as her hand comes up to cup her mouth. She takes a deep breath and for a second, I’m not sure she’s going to let it back out.
The first card shows an image of an angel with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She’s holding her hand out to a broken, haunted shell of a man.
The second card shows a restaurant with white-linen-covered tables and wine bottles in the background.
And the third is a thunderstorm, raining over a naked couple with the mountains in the background and the ocean around them.
At the bottom of each card are two words—Marry me.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and meet her gaze. Her head slowly bobs up and down in a nod, and I fall to my knees in front of her.
“You once told me you weren’t sure what you believe in. And for a long time, I wasn’t sure, either. Then, you found me. You fucking took hold of my heart that night by the dumpster and you haven’t let go. You gave me something to believe in. I wasted too much time hiding from the truth. I don’t want to waste another second.” I clear my throat and peer up at her. I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring. “Marry me?” For the first time since I was thirteen years old, my voice cracks. “Believe in this. Let me be your future. Letusbe your future.”
Her shoulders shake and her breath hitches. “You’ve always been my future. Before I even knew it, I was yours.”Fuck.She’s crying.
I slip the diamond onto the tiny ring finger of her left hand. The hand of my best friend. Hands that will one day hold my children.My children.
“One day I want grandchildren,” my mother said, as she straightened wine bottles, making sure all the labels face the front of the white, metal shelf. “Lots of them.”
“Last time I checked, it takes two people to make that happen.”
I look up at the sky, at the cross peering down at us, and I wonder if my parents are smiling.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Callisto
Lorenzo Carlos Suppato was born on February 19, 2023. Makenna decided not to go back to school and I like having her home. She also stopped putting in applications at hospitals until our son is a little older. I told her she doesn’t need to work at all, but she’s too dedicated to saving lives for that. I suppose it’s the universe’s way of keeping things balanced. She is salvation. I am destruction.
I love walking in after work and having her and Enzo waiting on me. Almost as much as I love walking in and finding out he’s already asleep. Those nights, I fuck her on the kitchen counter or bend her over the couch. I hold a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams because baby or not, I can’t be gentle with her. The beast always wins, and all he can think about is ravaging. Taking. Claiming. Filling her with my seed and making more babies.
Every time I look at Enzo, I understand my father more and more. I understand his worry and his pain. I understand his need to teach me how to protect myself at such a young age. I understand what it’s like to love someone so much you’d be willing to let them go if that’s what made them happy. Even if letting them go means giving up control.
There will always be enemies because there will always be jealousy. But that enemy won’t be one of our own, not anymore. Word got out about what I did to Morano. The Suppato name is not only respected, but also feared, which is exactly the way my father would’ve wanted it.
I haven’t enlisted another Enforcer. I still take care of that myself. It’s my own personal way of purging my demons. I’m not ready to let it go.
Makenna and I agreed to be married in Italy. She doesn’t come from a large family, so it was easy to fly her mother, John, Brynn, and Ryleigh to Sicily for the weekend. We also agreed to be married in July, vowing to replace the somber memories that month holds with brighter, happier ones.
Nonna was thrilled when she learned we’d be married in Palermo. I think she’s happier about seeing our son than she is about the wedding. Her only request was that we have the ceremony on the lake where my parents were married. Makenna agreed without hesitation. Even though we preferred to keep the ceremony small and intimate, she and Vince’s wife went to great lengths to make sure it’s perfect.
The evening sun is setting, its reflection bouncing off the water, creating a breathtaking backdrop of oranges and reds. Vanilla scented candles are placed at the ends of each row of white wooden folding chairs, lining the center aisle. Branches of cherry blossoms that sprout from clear crystal vases are perched on two square, white pedestals at the beginning and end of the white, silk runner. Cherry blossoms and vanilla. My favorite scent.
Spread down the aisle, as if placed there by the summer breeze, are endless pink petals.
With one hand in the pocket of my solid black tuxedo, and Franco at my side, I hold my breath and wait for my angel to walk down that aisle. Makenna chose the solid black. She said I seem to have a thing for monochromatic wardrobes. Personally, I just don’t like spending a lot of time matching my clothes.
“The dark colors help me sneak up on people,” I’d told her with a wink. And then I’d picked her up and threw her over my shoulder. “See? You never saw that coming.” She’d playfully smacked my ass and I’d tossed her onto the bed, then madehercome.
