Soft music floats around us and what must be an expensive prime rib cooking wafts into the room from the kitchen in the back.
Tables set for eating are on one side of the room leaving space for dancing later on the other side. It’s a far cry from what was planned last month, but it’s homey and I like it.
A tiered dessert plate is filled with heart-shaped cookies dipped in red, white, and green striped frosting. All homage to St. Valentine which started in ancient Roman times.
The cake is three tiers of chocolate covered in red frosting with swirls of frosting threaded like ribbon around the individual handmade roses that adorn it.
A woman approaches us, she’s shorter than Juliet, has a beautiful face without the need of the makeup she wears. Her brown hair is in a trendy blunt cut and she wears an elegant dark green dress. She must be in her late fifties if I had to guess.
“You must be Massimo, I’m Mrs. Accordi.” She takes my hand in hers and shakes it.
“Hello, so nice to meet you. This is Valentina.”
Valentina smiles as the two exchange the proper Italian greeting of kissing cheeks.
“Welcome, have a drink at the bar. I hope you’re hungry. Juliet’s father is a chef and is cooking enough to feed the entire town.” She smiles and excuses herself.
“She’s nice,” Valentina notes as we grab one of the many glasses of champagne. They all have a heart with Dante and Juliet’s names inscribed on them.
“Cute glasses. This is a nice restaurant and I’m sure he does well here,” she remarks.
“I heard he is an 4thgeneration butcher, so be prepared for the best beef of your life,” I whisper in her ear before giving it a nibble.
She giggles. “We’re in public,” she complains.
I know she wants more. I’ll wait until later as my cock stirs in my pants. I slide behind my bride-to-be so she can feel my cock against her.
“You are so frisky, all the time. You are a sex addict,” she teases.
“Hm, and you aren’t?”
“I didn’t say that. Maybe I should be happy that I got you and not that goon at the gala.”
“Now you’re seeing things my way,” I reply as I move so I can plant a meaningful kiss on her lips.
It seems like we’re getting along as if we’re a couple who isn’t forced to marry. But my trust in women is limited, more so since Mother’s confession, and I still have to remind myself that as much as I make concessions for Valentina, she might still be a flight risk.
Family ties run deep and none more so than Sicilians. For all I know, her brother could be working on a way to steal her back if he didn’t have his hands full right now.
“I arranged for your interview when we return home, but no more talking of work this weekend, it’s Valentine’s Day after all, and we’re celebrating.”
“Fine.” She makes it sound like a protest, but she enjoys our nights of passion as much as I do judging from her moans and numerous screaming orgasms as she comes all over my cock.
“We must not disappoint St. Valentine and we need to make sure this wedding works out for these two, they deserve it,” she says before taking a sip of champagne I handed her from the bartender. The room fills up and there are chairs in another section of the building for us to sit for the ceremony. Chairs that have red bows tied to their back.
Dante and his brother enter from a back door, all dressed in tuxes. and an older woman is with them, whom I’m assuming is the reclusive Mrs. Micheli. Her hair is a shiny platinum color, I think it’s the newest trend. Her hair is wavy, coming to the top of her shoulders. She’s about five, five in height, dark brown hair and a curvy figure. She’s talking to her sons, and they are bantering back and forth as they enter the building. It sounds like they get along like a big happy family and that might not have happened had they known about me years ago.
I marvel at how one event can alter a person’s life. One lie, one affair, one child. Secrets that may last forever or come out at the most inopportune time. I’m torn. Since my mother told me of my father, I’ve been wanting to meet them, and now that the moment has arrived, I’m looking into a different world. It’s not better or worse than my own, just different, and I’m torn on whether I should keep the secret forever or find a way to bring out the truth without destroying both of our families.
Did my mother’s guilt get to her, or in her sickness was she reminiscing about Aldo and wondering if things might have been different? I can’t ask her personal questions like that.
“Are you okay?” Valentina puts her hand on my arm and draws me back to the present.
“Sure, just taking in the members of the families.”
The Michelis notice us and make their way to introduce themselves.
“You must be Massimo.” Mrs. Micheli extends her hand.