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Briana
Eloisa and Emilio Gianellihad been together for over sixty years, and as they repeated the vows they'd given all those years ago, every single person watching the ceremony could see that they meant the words as much today as they had then. At eighty years old, Emilio had only wisps of his dark hair left, and he was probably a bit stouter than he was when they'd first met, but as he held Eloisa's hand, I couldn't help but picture how he must've looked on their wedding day.
Dorian and Enzo's father, Bartolo, had been their only child, but Emilio had numerous nieces and nephews, which meant the majority of the people there were nieces, nephews, and their families, and it was clear that Nonna and Nonno – as they'd insisted I call them – were much loved.
A lump formed in my throat as I thought about my own grandmother, the only member of my family who'd ever loved me unconditionally. It'd been seven years since she passed, but it didn't make the hurt any less. Every time Mikala did something that I wished I could share with Gran, I missed her all over again.
For nearly seven years, I'd gone back and forth when it came to regretting my decision to leave Tulsa, but it had always been because of my relationship with Elroy. Because of Mikala, I couldn't completely regret him, but I did wish I'd left him as soon as I found out I was pregnant. The one thing that'd never factored in had been family.
I didn't dislike religion, and I'd met plenty of good religious people in my life, but my family – with the exception of Gran – had been the sort of people who gave all those good people a bad name. Gran had believed in unconditional love, even when expressing disapproval. My parents and siblings believed that love was something earned, and if someone didn't measure up, they didn't deserve it and was tossed aside.
I wanted to keep Mikala as far away from them as possible, but there were times I wished my daughter could have an extended family. This was one of those times.
The Gianellis weren't perfect. I didn't have any illusions about that, and I didn't doubt that there were some bad apples in the bunch, but as a whole, I could see that they loved each other.
As I dabbed at my eyes, I pushed back those thoughts. The past was gone, and nothing I could do would give me a do-over. I needed to stay focused on the future, and that meant remembering the real reason I was here. It wasn't to indulge in my attraction to Dorian or even to enjoy myself. I was here to make sure the Gianellis would consider Rock Bay their location of choice every time they were in Las Vegas.
And that meant letting Dorian take the lead on things.
Neither of us had mentioned what happened, and I wondered if we ever would. A few days and countless opportune moments had passed between us since the kiss, and we'd spent time together, shared inane conversations. He'd been polite, never once making me feel like that intimate moment made him think less of me. He pulled out my chair, brought me drinks, sat close enough to let anyone around us know that I was with him.
But he wouldn't look me in the eye. A brief glance before quickly sliding away was the extent of it. I just didn't know if that was because he was embarrassed or because he didn't want me to read more into it than a moment of impulsive physical contact.
It was harder to push those thoughts aside as the two of us moved with everyone else into the hotel’s main restaurant after the ceremony. No one had treated me poorly, but the more Dorian distanced himself from me, the more I felt like I shouldn't be here. Seeing Enzo with his wife didn't help matters any. Granted, I wasn't attracted to him, and I hadn't accepted his invitation to bed, but knowing that he'd made the offer while his wife slept right down the hall made me feel bad for her. It also made me annoyed at Dorian that he seemed to accept his brother's behavior, and the irritation didn't do anything to calm my nerves.
Just as everything started twisting up my stomach to the point where I nearly felt compelled to leave, Dorian wound his arm around my waist to guide me to the right table.
It was a simple touch, but it was still enough to send my heart pounding. I leaned into him as much as I dared, the heat from his touch burning my skin. He smelled like honey and sage, and the scent made me want to bury my face against his chest and just breathe deep.
“That was a beautiful ceremony,” I said.
“It was.” He looked down at me, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “I don't know if I've mentioned this yet today, but you look stunning.”
“Not looking so bad yourself,” I shot back with a smile, hoping my cheeks weren't as red as they felt.
I'd been nervous about my dress, thinking it would be too simple for an event thrown by a family who could charter jets. Tiffany helped me pick it out a few months ago when I worked a business convention at Rock Bay, assuring me that this sort of simple sheath dress would work for dozens of different occasions and that one could never go wrong with black. Paired with a simple gold necklace and matching earrings, I hoped I looked elegant and purposefully understated rather than too poor to buy something by a big name designer.
My stomach was doing flip-flops by the time we were seated, and I tried to convince myself that Dorian hadn't moved my chair just a little closer to him when he pushed it in. Still, as I sat through the speeches, I found myself occasionally glancing over at him, tracing the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His lashes were longer than most men's, but they didn't make him look feminine but softened his cheekbones instead.
He caught me looking when it was his father's turn to speak and gave me a small smile. I managed one back even as my stomach fluttered. An image flashed through my mind, a fantasy I hadn't dared to allow come to the surface. One of the future, sixty years from now, when Dorian and I sat at the head table while our children and grandchildren offered us congratulations. Our hands linked, every inch of us declaring that we were as much in love as ever.
No matter how hard I tried pushing it back, it wouldn't let me go, flitting through my head even as I tried my best to eat and drink, to make small talk. Fortunately, everyone seemed content to fill the silence themselves, and no one really noticed that I wasn't doing much talking.
As soon as the dance floor opened for the evening, almost half of the people around me immediately got up and made their way toward it, the energy in the room crackling as couples spun around while I watched enviously. I loved dancing, especially at weddings, and I'd seen my fair share working at Rock Bay. Something about them just filled me with hope, despite the fact that my own marriage had ended badly.
Suddenly, Dorian grabbed my hand and stood. I gave him a startled look, but his expression revealed nothing.
“Come on,” he said.
I didn't need any more urging. I shot up, following behind him as he led me, hand in hand, to where people were already swaying to the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra. I wondered if he'd seen the longing on my face, or if he'd already intended to ask me. Like it was expected of him or something.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as much of a dancer,” I admitted as he pulled me to him and clasped one of my hands at shoulder height.
His eyes betrayed a mirth that his lips did not. “My parents forced Enzo and me to take dancing lessons when we were kids. They said it was part of our education as dignified young gentlemen.”
“Did it work?”
“See for yourself.” He guided me between the other couples, not missing a single step. For someone so tall, he was even more graceful than I would have guessed.
