It’s true. I never expected to marry, let alone be important enough for the Valentis to arrange a marriage for me. And not just to anyone. They chose me for a mafia princess, the daughter of a mob boss. They’re counting on me to bring unity between warring families. My marriage is a symbol of peace, but it’s more than that, too. It’s a lifelong assignment, which means Uncle Al plans to keep me around. He may even be testing me with this, seeing if I’m a suitable candidate to be groomed as an heir to his empire.
“Dad’s going to piss himself when he meets Pomponio tomorrow,” Baron says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Get ready to see our esteemed father groveling like a teenage girl trying to get backstage at aJust 5 Guysconcert,” Royal says in disgust.
“Speaking of teenage girls groveling… I found a pair of identical twin strippers for your bachelor party tonight,” Duke announces. “Blondes. Same age as you. It’s going to be epic.”
“Strippers?” I ask, cocking a brow.
“Blonde, identical twinstrippers,” Baron says, like he’s correcting me. “Damn, I’ve missed New York. You can find anything here.”
“And hey, if you’re not up for the task, me and Baron can entertain them after the show,” Duke says with that grin that’s just a little too much, like he’s just a little unhinged.
“Thanks,” I say, distracted by Royal’s quiet, tense posture. I watch him in the mirror as the tailor perfects the cuffs of his steel grey suit, the same color we’re all wearing. I know he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, and I don’t blame him. I just need to know he’s okay. Leaving my brothers was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and even though I didn’t have a choice, part of me wonders if they’re ready to handle life on their own. I don’t want them to think I’m turning my back on them the way Crystal did before she died.
Even in death, she chose someone else.
Our enemy. Love. And maybe herself.
Royal will never forgive that.
But I can’t take care of him forever, just like I couldn’t take care of her. I can’t take care of our little brothers, either. This job forces me to take care of myself and my new family, whether I like it or not.
While Duke and Baron get hyped for the party, I turn to Royal. “They good?”
From the way they act, you’d never know they lost a sister six months ago. I know we all feel it though, that loss. We’ve all changed. Those six months were hard on all of us, and I’m glad to see the twins acting like kids again, falling over themselves with excitement about strippers. I couldn’t care less about a party, but it’s tradition, and it makes them happy. And if I can make them happy for a night, or even a moment, it’s worth it.
“Shit, you sound like a mom,” Royal says. “Chill the fuck out.”
He didn’t sayour mom. He saida mom. Ma isn’t the type to worry about anyone but herself, so it always fell to me. It’s hard to let that habit go.
“You’re right,” I say. “I have a wedding to worry about, and after that, making sure the bride’s father doesn’t send you my head in a box.”
The corner of Royal’s mouth lifts, and he throws an arm around my neck and rubs my head with his knuckles like we’re kids again. “This ugly old thing?” he asks. “I’d take one look at it and send it back.”
The twins jump on us, and we wrestle around a minute before breaking apart and making sure we haven’t ripped our tuxes. We’ve always been affectionate with each other, physical. It makes me happy that Royal can still have moments of normalcy, that he didn’t lose that with everything else.
We finish up at the tailor’s and leave, the twins bounding ahead like puppies, frolicking in the sweltering New York heat. I get that sense of being out of place again, like I’m just playing a part. The mafia hasn’t changed me that much in the six weeks since I was sworn in, has it? I’m still a Dolce, even if I’m a Valenti, too.
Maybe I never quite fit into their carefree lives, though. I was always standing a step away, watching for snakes in the grass while they raced around like they were fucking invincible. Now that I know how just how fragile life is, how easily lost, how precious, it’s even harder to understand that freedom.
I turn to Royal again. “I know I’m not there to help out anymore, but don’t cut me out. It’s my family, too.”
“Is it, though?” he asks, cocking his head and squinting against the late afternoon sun. “You’re getting married. You have a new family. You and your wife.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. The Valentis are my family. The Dolces, too. But he’s right. Eliza and I will have our own little family, just the two of us.
Somehow, I don’t think it’ll be as cozy as it sounds.
“I’ll still always have your back,” I say to Royal. “If you need me, shoot me a text. I may not be anything special here, but I’ve got connections. If anyone fucks with you…”
“I’ll take care of it,” he says. “I got this, okay? You don’t have to be the hero all the time, King.”
“You know I’m no hero,” I say bitterly.
We don’t speak of Crystal. Not directly. No one in our family does. She’s the ghost that haunts each of us, but we pretend she’s not here, as if acknowledging it might make what happened real.
“You can have our backs, but you gotta move on,” Royal says. “You got enough to deal with here. You got a life here. You can’t be worrying about shit halfway across the country when you can’t do shit about it. This is your future. New York, the Life. Not Arkansas.”