Last Night
Ifinally found Vanni out on the back porch, smoking a joint. I almost commented about a piss test, but I was sure he and Marco had it covered, so I dove right into the apology.
"Hey, you know I wouldn't leave, right?" He barely turned his head to glance at me before staring off into the distance. "Dammit, Vanni, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I wouldn't leave you. Not willingly."
He passed the joint before answering me, and I took a heavy hit of the earthy smoke, holding it until the urge to cough had passed.
"I made you a promise, Edie—if you wanted to go, and even keep me from finding you, I'd make it happen. The possibility of that coming to pass, no matter how minute, fucking hurts, but I'll keep my word if you need it." Fucker was going to break my heart with his martyr ass.
"Nope, not leaving, just proving a point to your thick-headed brother. When he got all high-handed and started acting like everything he'd said before didn't mean squat, I got a little pissed. Now I'm apparently getting hitched. How do you feel about dating a married woman, Vanni?" My teasing got a wan smile, but as I passed the joint back, it faded.
"Actually, I'm kind of bummed it's not me, but between Tony and Santos, I knew I never stood a chance if you decided to go that route. Doesn't mean my feelings have changed or that I plan to step aside." He shrugged as he took a last pull and crushed the end out in an ashtray on the ledge.
Relief coursed through me, but before I could articulate that, he pulled me to him and tipped his face down to cover my lips with his. I was confused when he opened his mouth over mine, but his hands cupped my cheeks to keep me in place. Then he exhaled, filling my lungs with the heady smoke.
A thrill of need pulsed through me at the unexpected move that was somehow highly erotic yet still perfectly intimate. I stood there, staring into the dark depths of Vanni’s eyes while clinging to his biceps as I blew it back out.
"I see you two made up just fine," Marco intoned from the doorway.
"I think we did?" I answered while simultaneously questioning Vanni. He nodded and hugged me to him, my back to his chest and his chin resting on my head. I really loved the feeling of being snuggled back into the warmth his body offered in the cooling afternoon air.
"Good,” Marco began, coming out to join us, “because I need to ask you something before you make any decisions." Then the fucker dropped down and held out a ring. "Eden Moretti, will you marry us?"
Although Vanni had stiffened, he instantly relaxed again at the 'us' part while I stared at the big lug in front of me. What else could I say but yes? Seemed there was a consensus on the matter anyhow, not that I was opposed to it in general, but I hadn't imagined it would be now.
"Well, if I'm going to have your spawn one day, I suppose we should do it up proper, amirite?" I winked at him and held out my hand as he chuckled, taking the pretty solitaire from its bed of black velvet.
"Uh, Edie, just to clarify, you do mean all of us, yes?" Vanni asked from behind, holding on to me just a smidge too tightly until I nodded my head under his chin. "Then I'm good with it, but you'll have to decide who it will be on paper. Even the Carlottis can't get away with a group marriage, not legally anyway." His head dipped to the side to nip at my neck before sucking at the sensitive skin while Marco slipped the ring on my finger amidst my faint moan of delight. Leave it to fucking Marco to know my ring size; even I didn't know that shit.
"Marco! You fucker! When did you go ring shopping?" Tony barged out onto the porch, bringing his thundercloud with him.
“The day she left,” he popped off with a smirk. “I may have followed her for a while to make sure she made it out of the city. Right before I turned around, a billboard for a jeweler caught my eye, and I decided I’d be prepared for when she came back.” He winked at me just as I had moments ago, defusing my urge to call him a stalker.
“Well, you might get your wish, asshole. Santos is refusing to do it,” Tony grumbled, staring at me guardedly like I wasn’t going to like what else he might say.
But I was crushed and didn’t care to hear anything else. It was stupid to be upset after my own reaction earlier, but to know Santos didn’t actually want me made my chest constrict with emotion. The pain was bad enough I couldn’t tell if it was causing my ribs to rebel or if that was my heart turning to ash.
“Guess it’s settled then,” I managed, pulling against Vanni’s hold, desperately wanting to get out from under their scrutiny and into the privacy of my room before I broke. I latched on to a somewhat plausible excuse when he didn’t let go. “I want a smoke, Vanni. Let up, will you?” He slowly loosened his arms, and I slipped free, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as I made a beeline straight upstairs.
The first tear fell as I opened my door, but when I threw it shut behind me, it bounced back. Marco had followed me. I’m such a fucking bitch. He just proposed, and I took off, butthurt that Santos rejected me.
“Marco, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, or what I said, not like that.” Tears tracked down my cheeks and clogged my throat, preventing me from explaining myself further.
“I know you didn’t, Edie, but I’m not leaving you upset on your wedding day. I’m positive there’s more to it than that. Santos has been a fucking pill since you left; there’s no way he doesn’t want you.” He advanced on me, folding me into a hug as I let my emotions out. Marco made soothing rumbles that were probably words while he held me, but I was too distraught to make them out
Past and present hurts collided to form a storm of snot and tears until I’d exhausted myself and felt seriously self-conscious standing there in the middle of my bedroom. I fucking hated crying. Shit always left me with a puffy face and a headache.
“Angel, please don’t cry. Let me explain,” Santo’s voice pleaded from the doorway.
I didn’t want to face him, but Marco pulled back, making me clutch at him in my panic to not be left alone with Santos right then.
“Taking my shirt off, Paradise. I told you, I’m not going anywhere. This right here…” He took my left hand in his, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the ring that added a minuscule but mighty weight. “This is my promise, where you can see it anytime you need it.”
At my nod, he stepped back and tugged his shirt off before wiping at my soggy face and earning a watery laugh in return. Then the shit toed off his shoes and flopped back on my bed with his arms behind his head, leaving me without a barrier between me and the source of my fresh heartbreak.
“Well, I’m waiting.” My tone was waspish, but fuck him for making me cry after I’d sworn more than once that I was done with waterworks over Santos DeLuca. Needing more fortification than I could manage on my own, I retreated to sit on the edge of my bed, feeling stronger with Marco at my back. Something Santos didn’t miss or care for according to the narrowed-eye look he directed behind me.
“I never said I didn’t want to marry you. I said that I can’t. It’s not safe; you’d be better off with Tony or Vanni or even Marco than me. I’m the muscle, Eden, the shield if you will. You’ll always be in some danger thanks to being associated with us at all. But in the grand scheme of things? I’m the one that’s technically replaceable in the organization; the others can give you a stability that I can’t promise.” I vaguely understood what he meant, but I didn’t agree with it.