Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“Will you marry me, Jasmine? Just say yes. Tell my family and me that you’ll be the next Mrs. Martinelli?
“You know I will,” she gushes, and when it’s clear that both Mama and Papa couldn’t agree more, they join us in a group hug as I hear her say the only word from her lips that matters today.
“Yes. Yes. Yes!”
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Jasmine
“And then there’s your cousin, Tony Martinelli,” I remind Rocco.
“Oh yeah,” he says, making a face. “I almost forgot all about Tony….”
The list of people to call, cards to reply to, and send is getting ridiculous.
And this is before we even think about announcing my engagement.
I mean, our engagement.
This is us, catching up with all the ‘massacred’ Martinelli family who, as it turns out, wasn’t executed at all.
They were put on a private coach and spent two weeks in Fort Lauderdale.
Even though Rocco still says, that’s certain death. He was as glad as the rest of his family to find out that nobody had been hurt.
But it was far from a prank. The Portello’s meant to take over every business the Martinelli’s owned, using their relatives as hostages somehow.
Maria’s running away and going to the law, rolling over on every single member of her own family, was a move that certainly took the heat off the Martinelli clan.
And most likely will for decades to come.
But I haven’t minded all the correspondence. I like the old-fashioned, thoughtful cards and flowers. Little gifts being sent to friends and family with personal notes.
It reminds me of a time gone by, and maybe I only think it’s romantic because I was never there. I never lived that life in those times.
Me, I still use my phone for everything, but Rocco and his family?
They do things old school. Pen and paper. Handwritten notes and records.
“It’s easier to burn a paper trail than delete a digital one everyone’s watched you keep,” he reminds me whenever I make a noise about him never checking the messages I send him.
Even though I’m usually right next to him or in the next room over if I’m really far away.
“Well? What do I write on Tony’s card…?” I sigh as I stand up from where I’m sitting opposite him.
“Dear Tony,
Thanks for not being murdered by the rival gang’s family.
Love,
Rocco”
I dictate aloud as if I’m reading back what I’ve written, making Rocco laugh before he tickles me under my arms.
His hands rest on my hips as he pulls me onto his lap.
“Very funny,” he growls, biting my neck after he kisses it, telling me I can put whatever I want on any of the cards.
One of his hands strays to my round belly, making his eyes get that look he gets.
The look that makes me cry sometimes it’s so damned sweet.
His ‘I’m gonna be a dad’ look. And it’s one I never get sick of seeing him make.
“You’re thinking we should be sending out wedding invitations,” I remark, acting like I’m reading his mind.
“Uh. I really wasn’t,” Rocco says, deadpan. Because I’m pretty sure he wasn’t.
“I just don’t want our baby born without a Mama and a Papa,” I reason, maybe overdoing my own version of the Italian accent a little.
Something I know Rocco dislikes but puts up with for my benefit.
Hey, if I don’t try and sound Italian, I’m never gonna pull off acting Italian, right?
But what I mistake is Rocco’s reaction to my accent is actually him thinking a little deeper.
He sits up suddenly, asking if he can use my phone. And before I know it, he’s dialed his father directly.
Not something most people could do. Especially these days.
Don Martinelli’s retirement has been put on hold, and with his wife Catriona, they’ve both returned to the business of making the family business legitimate again.
“Papa?” Rocco asks, then launches into an animated conversation in Italian with his father.
So much so that after fifteen minutes of listening to him, I can’t decide whether he’s mad, sad, or glad at the outcome of his call.
But when he hangs up, his smile tells me everything.
“Papa said he’s surprised it took us so long. They’ve all been waiting for the wedding. Especially Uncle Tony!” Rocco says in disbelief.
“He says you can wear Mama’s wedding dress. And there’s the jewelry too… There’s a ton of stuff like that from all the family. So you’ll just have to….”
He says but trails off.
Losing his steam as he watches my expression change.
“I don’t want any of that,” I tell him. “I just want it to be us and this little one, of course,” I add, looking up at him.
Suddenly feeling ill at the thought of his family, the one we were supposed to be escaping from, suddenly taking over our whole wedding.
Being honest with Rocco, I explain that it feels like they’ve already taken over our life anyway.