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“My mom and Laura’s dad went to school together through high school, but they lost touch for years. It wasn’t until Laura and I became friends that they realized they knew each other.”
I don’t like the expression on Salvatore’s or Massimo’s faces. I look at Enzo, but he’s still as confused as me.
“You’re not as closely related to the O’Rourkes by blood as Laura is, but your families are. Your mother’s grandfathers were senior members of the Irish mob. Your maternal grandfather was even in line to run the organization here in New York.”
“What?”
“How do you think your mother learned to shoot so well? Your grandfather refused to be a part of anything to do with the mob once he met your grandmother. He did everything he could to keep your mom and aunts away from his old life. But it’s also why all of his daughters could be sharpshooters. He wanted to be sure they could defend themselves if anyone came knocking and asked too many questions. She made sure you can shoot just as well as her, didn’t she?”
I’m too stunned to say or do anything. I remember my grandfather as a kind man who used to take me to the park and let me jump off the swings when my mother would have lost her shit. He was the one who taught me to drive because my parents said I terrified them with my lead foot. He cheered for me at my law school graduation so loudly I remember my mom tugging on his arm to make him sit down. He died last year, and I still miss him so much that hearing about him makes me want to cry.
“You don’t want me to tell my mom because you believe she’ll tell the O’Rourkes, and they’ll get involved. She’s not in touch with any of them. She doesn’t even know them.”
Massimo’s and Salvatore’s piercing gazes skewer me to the mattress. They say nothing more, but it’s clear I’m the one in the wrong. Enzo’s arm tightens around me, and I don’t know what to think. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“You’re still going to let me in your family?”
Massimo steps forward and squats low enough to meet my gaze. It’s like I’m a little kid he’s getting down to eye level with.
“Michelle, no one gets to pick their relatives or the family they’re born into. Your mother’s family took a different path than ours. They left when we didn’t. If your grandfather had accepted the position everyone believed he would, you wouldn’t be in love with my son. He wouldn’t be in love with you. You definitely wouldn’t be sitting here. My family couldn’t make that same choice. My father wouldn’t have let me or Salvatore leave. Because Salvatore is our don, my sons can’t leave either. I won’t leave my brother, which means my boys won’t leave me. God has a plan for each of us. Many of us ignore it and do what we want because we feel we must. But sometimes God speaks louder than any of us, and that’s why you and Enzo are together.”
I can only nod. I’m not exactly sure how Massimo believes we’re following God’s plan rather than ignoring it, but there’s conviction in his voice that soothes me. I’m not the most religious person I know, but I still have a deep faith. I just don’t think about it that often. I want to believe what my future father-in-law says, so I choose to.
“My parents know I’m dating a Mancinelli. I know they guessed without me saying it, and they took it better than I expected. They don’t know it’s Lorenzo, but they know we’re serious. I haven’t been sure what I can and should tell them. If my mother’s family is that close to the O’Rourkes, she knew exactly who I’m talking about the moment they deduced I’m with a Mancinelli. I don’t know that I could keep her from telling any of them, even if I never mention the car accident. The crash.”
I correct myself because nothing about what happened was an accident. Massimo continues to explain how things are going to go.
“We know, and we’re prepared for that. It would surprise none of us if the O’Rourkes don’t already know, but have chosen — for whatever reason — not to bring your family into this. They probably know you and Enzo are together, but they don’t know about the threats to you. If your parents tell them you were in a crash with Enzo, they will insist upon getting involved. They will blame us for you being unprotected, and they will want to take matters into their own hands. It will only make it messier since the bratva is already involved. Two syndicates are a challenge, three syndicates are a powder keg.”
I still can’t do more than nod. I want to call my parents and demand to know why they never told me any of this. How could they let me go through life not knowing there were people who would probably love nothing more than to harm my grandfather’s family? How could I not know there were probably people watching me my entire life? Were they friend or foe? Did that depend on the day of the week? There’s so much I want to know. I’m pissed my parents kept this from me. And I’m pissed Massimo and Salvatore felt it was their place to tell me. But they did it for Enzo, not me.
“Is there anything else in my family history I should know?”
It comes out harsher than I intended, but not because I feel badly that I’m demanding an answer. I intended to sound detached, so they wouldn’t know how I feel.
“We believe Laura doesn’t know any of this, but her parents do. I’m sure knowing their daughters had an extra set of eyes and ears looking out for them was reassuring.”
“In other words, they were happy to know at least one parent from each family would shoot to kill.”
Massimo and Salvatore remain quiet. It’s not until Enzo takes my hand that I realize how far I’d pulled away from him. It’s not him I’m angry at, but I want to shrink into myself. Make myself as small a target from the real world as I can. When I remember he’s there, I lean against him again. I don’t have to curl into a tiny ball to feel safe. I feel protected when I’m near him. Far more than trying to face this alone.
“Papa, if there’s anything else, tell us now. Otherwise, I want to talk to Chellie alone.”
“There’s nothing else. We’ll let you know about the other stuff when there’s more to tell.”
The two older men leave us alone, and all I can do is turn toward my boyfriend and stare.
“What do you need from me, Chellie?”
I blink several times, my eyes burning with tears.
“You’re all right with who my family is?”
“Of course. I’m marrying you, not them.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m marrying your family as much as I’m marrying you, and we both know that. It’s no different for you.”
“Yes, it is. My family is theCosa Nostra. You’re marrying a man who does things he will always hide from you. You’re marrying a man whose family does things that could wind them all up on death row. You’re marrying a man who most people would consider a monster, and they’d think no better of his family. That’s who you’re marrying. I’m marrying a woman whose family has done their best to leave that life behind to protect their children. I’m marrying a woman whose family chose to rise above this life. I—”
