One where blood was only spilled out of necessity.
Dante was at the front of the church with the rest of the men; they waited near Sergio.
Once Frank stepped out of the way, I noticed I was nearly at the end of the aisle.
Sergio’s eyes were closed like he was in pain.
My heart sliced in two.
Because even though I wanted to understand, how could I? He’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved after a ceremony like this — and there I was. The exact opposite, young, innocent, everything he didn’t want, but had to take.
Because of his honor.
I respected him for it.
And I knew I would end up loving him.
I was already halfway there.
Yes, it was time to shed the old me and step into a new reality, a new life, because some stories aren’t filled with instant love or happily ever afters where all it takes is one kiss to seal the affection between two people.
Sometimes it’s work.
Sometimes it’s painful.
Our love would be ugly, deformed, awkward. It would be so many things, but I hoped, that in the end, above all else, it would be good enough.
Not just good.
Not even amazing.
But good enough, so that at least I was in a marriage where we had respect, friendship, it was all I felt right in asking for.
Sergio’s hands shook at his sides.
Frank turned and lifted my veil from my face kissing each cheek and then whispering a blessing in my ear.
Sal did the same, followed by Papi. When it was Gio’s turn, he hesitated.
I grabbed his hands as tears filled his eyes.
I was close to all of them, but Gio… Gio had always been my rock. He’d held my hand when my first real friend in high school moved away.
When she stopped writing me emails, he told me I’d find better friends at college.
When Dante was being stupid, as brothers are prone to be, he talked me through the most traumatic conversation I’d ever had, to date, about guys and hormones.
He thought if he just brought in movies and drew pictures, I’d be okay with the fact that my brother was acting like a jackass.
Halfway through our “talk” we were both so traumatized we swore never to speak of it again.
Gio made sure I ate.
Gio was like an Italian grandmother stuffed into the body of a lean, seventy-year-old man with a secret addiction to Cuban cigars.
His hair was nearly completely gray, his face had aged better than the rest of him, but the worry lines around his mouth deepened as he leaned forward and whispered near my ear, “Just say the word and I’ll get you out.”
Surprised, I pulled him in for a tight hug. “No. This is what my father would have wanted.”
“That does not make this choice easier,” he said in a pained voice as he hugged me tight and then kissed both cheeks. A single tear splashed onto his lips as they trembled. “You are my girl.”
“I am.”
“Be strong.”
“I will.”
“You are my girl,” he repeated. “I die for you, yes?”
“Yes.” My voice quivered.
“He treats you bad, I come with the gun, capiche?”
“Capiche.” I half sobbed half laughed.
With a grunt, he kissed my nose and joined the rest of the men.
Phoenix, Tex, Nixon, and Chase were to the left with the rest of the Alferos while Dante was to the right with Sergio.
When my gaze finally fell to the man I was going to marry, I expected him to still have his eyes closed — after all, he didn’t want this, maybe that was the only way he could go through it.
Instead, his eyes were fixated on me.
White-hot intensity radiated off of him in waves.
When our hands touched, his were warm, not clammy. Strong fingers wrapped around mine.
This is happening.
This is happening.
As the priest made a cross with his incense, he began reciting scripture in Italian. I picked out a few words.
The greetings and prayer flew by, and suddenly the Priest was asking in English if we were of sound mind.
Hah, probably not.
Sergio’s lips twitched as we both stated that we were in fact, sane and were not entering into the holy sanction of marriage lightly.
“Sergio…” The priest’s accent was so thick even his English was hard to decipher. “Do you take…” I was going to hyperventilate, he talked so fast, it was happening so fast. “Till death do you part?”
Blue eyes blinked at me, slowly, methodically, intensely as Sergio answered. “I vow… till death—” his voice cracked “—do we part.”
It was my turn.
My voice was small when I answered the same, I felt odd saying yes, when Sergio actually repeated the last part.
Till death do we part.
Terrifying, to think, it would actually be a very real possibility that one of us would die before the other — chances were most likely him, considering his line of work.
I didn’t like it.
Thinking about death when I should be thinking about life.
I clenched his hands tighter.
“And now a blessing.” The Priest raised his hands. “From a friend.”