Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Love you too,” I grumble and give her one last hug before she departs and leaves me alone.
Who is Stefania Bianco? As I go through my bedtime routine in my own apartment one last time, I keep wondering. Does she have a job? Does she want kids one day? Does she get along with her husband and her husband’s family? Does she like Chicago (doubtful)? Will she grudgingly eat deep dish pizza (fuck no)?
It’s a small comfort, but I’m desperate for anything to keep me going, and I’ll cling on to that for now.
Chapter 8
Stefania
Renzo sends a car for me at ten in the morning. He doesn’t trust that I’ll show up on my own, and that’s probably a good call, because I’ve been up all night making various escape plans.
Screw Stefania Bianco and screw defining her. I’m who I am now and I don’t want to change. Except escaping to Europe isn’t any better than marrying Davide, since my life as I know it would be over anyway, and I might as well stick with the devil I know.
During the car ride over, I write an email to Giorgia on my phone. I’m as honest as I can be about what’s happening, but I still know she’s going to have a million questions. I’ll deal with those when they come.
The Rossi mansion looks cold and dark on an ugly, cloudy afternoon. The car drops me off out front and Saul’s waiting for me at the top of the steps. He’s my second-oldest brother and Renzo’s underboss, and we’ve always had a pretty good relationship. Though I’m not happy to see him right now.
“You’re going to hate this, but everyone’s here,” he says as I head up the steps dragging my suitcase behind me. He comes down and takes the bag before passing it off to one of the guards with instructions to make sure it follows me to the airport when I leave.
“Everyone?” I try to peer past him but the door’s closed.
“Gian, Allegra, Carlo, Alana, Molly, the kids, Renzo and Maddie—everyone.”
“Great, the whole family’s here to witness my funeral.” I lean against one of the columns and give my brother a hard look. “Did you at least try to talk him out of it?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“Yeah, figured. You always were the rule follower, huh?” I give him a tight smile and lightly punch his shoulder. He grunts in reply. “Even though you don’t deserve it, I’ll miss you.”
“You’re not gone forever,” he says and puts an arm around me. I lean into the hug. “Davide already promised to let you spend summers here.”
“But it’ll never be the same, right? I’ll be a visitor.”
“Stef, you’ll always be our little sister, no matter who you’re married to or where you’re living. Now, are you ready to get this over with? You have a flight in a few hours.”
I whistle Chopin’s Funeral March and let Saul steer me inside.
Saul wasn’t kidding—everyone really did show up. The whole family plus some of the more important Capos and soldiers are lingering around the house like they’re having a party. The kitchen staff serves brunch on the back porch and the kids are playing out in the garden, running through the butterfly bushes, and making a mess of the freshly planted gardenias. I’m given a mimosa and handed off from person to person, giving out hugs, accepting congratulations and what feel like condolences, and not a single member of my family asks how I’m feeling.
Because they all know. Each and every one of them went through their own strange relationship hell, from Renzo’s business agreement with Maddie down to Carlo’s arrangement with Alana. I’m not the only Rossi marrying a person I don’t love, but it’s not much of a comfort, because all their relationships worked out.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck with freaking Davide, who is apparently nowhere to be seen.
One mimosa turns into two and I’m starting to relax enough to have a normal conversation with Maddie and Allegra about motherhood and dealing with rambunctious little kids when Renzo appears at my elbow and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s time,” he says and gives me a moment to wave goodbye to everyone before steering me inside.
“This is the weirdest wedding in the world,” I say as we head to his office, my heart hammering in my chest, nerves rolling in my stomach. “I mean, it kind of feels like I’m attending my own wake. That’s really fucked up, right? Everyone’s talking around why we’re all here, but nobody wants to come out and say, oh, poor Stefania, it must suck you have to marry a guy you don’t know and don’t particularly like, but I almost wish we could just talk about it, you know?” And now I’m babbling because I’m afraid, but Renzo’s not slowing, and I can see Davide standing by his desk.