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She doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe really as I do my best to infuse my affection for her into her soul. She’s cracked and bruised, my sister, but she’s not broken. Not irredeemable.
She stands stiff, reluctantly accepting my hug but making no move to return it. When I don’t pull back right away, she slowly brings her arms up and pats my back in the most awkward exchange we’ve had in years. Of course, it’s probably the first embrace we’ve had in years too.
Finally, I pull back and look at her. Her hair is pin-straight and looks freshly dyed, an even deeper shade of red. It looks closer to black than her usual strawberry-blonde. Dark circles mar her skin underneath her eyes, but given our family dynamic shift, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s lost sleep over everything. I resist the urge to ask if she’s talked to mom. Or any of the Santorinis. She’ll always be my little sister, but we’re adults now, and it’s time I stop mothering her and just accept her for who she is right now.
It takes conscious effort not to run my palm across my lower abdomen at the thought of mothering. It’s a comforting move but a telling one.
“Well, thank you for coming. If I would’ve known, you could’ve flown with us.”
She looks at me from underneath her lashes. “And watch your boyfriends—”
I hold my index finger up and smile. “Husbands.”
“Yeah, about that. Who’s your real husband?”
“They all are.”
“Okay.” She drags the word out and drops her chin, looking at me like I’m dense. “But like legally.”
Something about her tone has my hackles rising. “Why?”
She lifts a shoulder and glances to the side before looking at me and jerking her chin to the right. “Are they in there?”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Who? My husbands?”
She scoffs. “No, them. The men who are masquerading as our blood who abandoned us our entire lives.”
I’m not prepared for the venom in her voice, and I take a step backward. I don’t need to look to the right to know Dante’s there. I don’t fear my sister, but I don’t exactly trust her either. Not when she has this wild look in her eye unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
“Just like a man, too. They fucking take and take and take and then leave you with nothing,” she seethes, staring at the ground without really seeing anything. “And then heaven forbid, you actually need help.” She whips her head up and holds my gaze. “I hope you know what you’re doing, sister, because when they leave you in tatters, I won’t be there to put you back together again.”
Tears prick my eyes at her hostility. Her hurt and rage balloons and fills the small lobby space, but I’m not afraid or even offended. No, my heart aches for my sister. I step toward her, and he’s so quick and smooth, it’s like he moves with me, Dante is at my side, a hand on my elbow.
I glance at him. “It’s alright. She’s not going to hurt me.”
He doesn’t say anything, just flicks his gaze from my eyes to my stomach and back again. I get his message instantly, and it’s a decision I already made the moment I saw her. Now is not the time to share that I’m expecting. She wouldn’t be able to listen without the harsh judgments of her own issues right now, and I don’t know if I could forgive her if she lashed out at me because of it.
I nod, a tiny movement to let him know we’re in agreement. He lets go of my elbow, but he doesn’t move from next to me.
“What happened, Mary? Want to talk about it?” I keep my tone even and low, approaching her like you would a wounded animal. I see it now, underneath all her buttoned-up persona and her free-flowing barbs, she’s wounded.
She sneers and takes a step back, her arms falling to her sides in clenched fists. “Nah, you haven’t confided in me in years, so why break tradition, huh? Besides, it’s not like I expect you to see where I’m coming from. Just go back to your perfect little life while you can, Maddie. And when it all blows up, like everything does, I hope you remember what I said: I won’t be here.”
My sister doesn’t give me time to reply before she spins on her heel and leaves the chapel in a flurry of rage and hostility.
“What the fuck, Dante?” I whisper, starting after my sister. “I don’t even know what to say.”
He hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me into his chest. I nestle my face against his pecs and breathe in the comforting scent of coconut. “She’s hurting, Maddie. Best thing you can do is be here for her when she’s ready.” He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips sparking pleasure down my spine with each pass of his fingertips on my bare skin. “But that doesn’t mean you take her shit, yeah? You are not her verbal punching bag. I allowed her that one free pass, but next time, I shut that down.”
Warmth pools low in my belly at his protectiveness. I don’t know what it says about me, but I love it when they show their protective and possessive sides.
The door creaks a second before I hear Leo’s voice. “Everything okay?”
Lifting my head from Dante’s chest, I look over at him. I didn’t get enough time to appreciate the way they all look tonight. I push the sadness from my sister down somewhere deep inside me, toss it in a box, and pack it away. That’s a problem for tomorrow—or next week.
Tonight is all about me and my new husbands. We have a suite reserved in a resort my brother Nico owns. It’s one of the handful of hotels that Vito doesn’t have any of his filthy fingers in. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to call Vito dad or father. Just thinking his name with those titles makes me gag a little.
I turn to face Leo, Dante’s hands settling low on my hips. A smirk tilts the side of my mouth upward. “You know, I think I saw balconies attached to the suites.”
