Page 42 of Marcus

Sometimes, for William.

Just to say hello.

Sometimes, to be with her parents.

Of course, the Sunday dinners after church didn’t hurt, either. She was never one to say no to food, but especially not when her mother or aunts cooked it.

Still, at the sight of her parents standing, it made Cella realize she had dazed out even more than she previously thought. A quick look around the church confirmed that, in fact, Sunday mass was over, and the church had just begun to empty of parishioners.

Damn.

“Distracted?” her father asked, grabbing his sunglasses from the pew.

Cella cleared her throat, quick to stand up and grab her purse as she did it. “No, of course not. I’m just—”

“For the last fifteen minutes of service,” her mother interjected with a kind tone, “you didn’t even sit or stand when you were supposed to, Cella.”

Yeah.

Shit.

She tried to brush it off. “Things on my mind, that’s all.”

“Lucian, give us a minute, would you?”

Her father raised his brows at her mother’s request, but just as quickly nodded and dropped a kiss to Jordyn’s forehead before heading out into the aisle where he met up with his brothers. It was only once her father and his brothers were far enough away that they couldn’t hear the conversation between Cella and Jordyn that her mother turned to her with that soft, gentle smile still firmly in place.

“Would this have anything to do with the man Tiffany keeps talking about every chance she gets?”

Would it?

Because yeah, it was pretty damn hard for Cella to pretend like there wasn’t a lot more going on with Marcus Guzzi than her family knew when he was the first and last thing her daughter seemed to want to talk about every chance she got.

Not that Cella complained.

She adored that.

Her daughter liked someone she had an interest in. Shouldn’t that be a good thing? Shouldn’t that mean this could be something amazing if she was just willing to see it through?

“Cella,” Jordyn urged softly.

Her gaze turned to the stained glass window again, and the graveyard she knew was hidden by a high, stone wall and an wrought iron fence.

“It’s been months since I visited William,” Cella said, glancing back to her mother. “Almost a year, actually.”

“You’re busy—you have your career, a business to run, and a child to take care of.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Your love for him isn’t determined by how many times you make a six-hour drive to sit at his grave, Cella.”

Of course.

She knew that.

And still … “When is it okay for me to move on?”

Jordyn dragged in a quick breath. “When you feel ready.”