My Big Fat Fake Wedding(115)

Violet, who looks amazing as always sitting next to me, laughs. “I give it a week before you’re back to your normal self.”

Sofia laughs, shrugging. “Someone has to keep you all in line! And nobody’s better than an Italian aunt!”

“Whoa, there, Aunt Sofia,” I plead, holding up my hands. “I’m new around here, but I already know not to mess with you.”

“Well, as long as you’re scared of a little old lady,” Abi teases as she reaches across me, “I’m gonna grab the garlic bread.”

We get everything passed out, all of the dishes coming around family style. Plates are filled, and the conversation’s loud and boisterous. If anyone looks upset, it has to be Stefano.

“What is it, Papa?” Violet asks after Nana’s said grace and everyone starts to dig in. Stefano’s got a pained expression in his face, and I swear he looks emotional. “Are you okay? Is it your heart?”

“Yes and no,” Stefano says, sighing miserably. “All this wonderful food, but those doctors, they want me to eat less!”

“Well, you know, Stefano,” Mom says, trying to be helpful, “tomatoes are very rich in lycopene and vitamins. They’re actually great for your heart. You might just need to adjust the recipes . . .” Mom pauses, feeling the glares from Nana and Sofia. “I’m just saying.”

“Kimberly,” Maria says, patting her on the arm, “stop before Nana invokes Susan Lucci on you. Just trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Mom looks very confused but does indeed drop her suggestions about how to make Nana’s Italian food healthier for Stefano.

Stefano, though, has one more complaint. “And worst of all, no more of my cigars!”

“Thank Madre Maria!” Nana declares. “It’ll still be years before I get that stink out of my house!”

“Your house?” Stefano growls, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Violet covering her mouth as she tries to hide the smile. “Woman, I worked for forty-five years to—”

“I have an idea,” Dad says, not used to their bickering. “Stefano, after dinner, would you care to join me in my study for some fine bourbon?”

Stefano immediately stops bickering with Nana and turns to Dad, grinning. “If you’ve got a good scotch . . . I think I might find your study even more enjoyable than my own bedroom.”

“Where you won’t be sleeping tonight if you keep up with your mouthing, man,” Nana sasses back. “The couch is calling your name.”

I can’t help but laugh, and everyone else busts out too. Maria tries to reign her mother in. “Mom, could you maybe not discuss your sleeping arrangements in front of Violet’s new family? You’re going to scare them off because you’re acting pazza.”

I lean over and whisper in Violet’s ear as everyone teases and jokes around us. “I think I can see where you got your smart mouth from.”

She licks her lips and my eyes follow the movement. “Yeah, we’re all pretty much ball-busters. Some people can handle it, some can’t,” she whispers back with a shrug like she hasn’t decided if I can handle her or not.

Sassy minx. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Keep talking about handling my balls, Vi, and I’ll give you everything in them. Where do you want it tonight?” My voice is low and dark, full of promise.

“Wherever you want to give it to me, husband. You know how much I like to obey.” She drawls the last word out, a dare and challenge all at once because we both know that there’s not a damn thing in this world that could make Violet Antonia Carlotta Russo obey an order she doesn’t want to. But oh, when she wants to, she is glorious in her utter wanton surrender.

And I’m the only man who gets to see her that way, her husband.





Epilogue





Violet—Two Months Later





So what if it’s not six months?

Simply put, two months was enough time.

Not for us to fall deeper in love, although that’s happened. Every moment Ross and I spend together, we find a new reason to love each other even more deeply.

And not because we needed to gain the understanding of our families. If anything, Nana’s repeated suggestions that we ‘get down to the baby making’ seems to have ignited a desire in both families for us to speed things up.

Including us, which is why we’ve been ready for this for weeks already.

In the end, the only thing that’s held us up was Father O’Flannigan. After we went back to him and explained everything, especially what was in our hearts as we said our vows, he said he needed to talk to the archbishop. Our situation wasn’t something the church normally dealt with, after all.

Regardless of the particulars, everything’s perfect now. Father O’Flannigan is blessing our union and giving us a chance to speak our own thoughts as a reaffirmation of our vows. Since we’re already officially married and this is more of a casual thing for our family, Father O’Flannigan even agreed to do it at the Andrews estate instead of the church. That alone took two conversations to make sure we could do that.

But finally, here we are.

The air’s cooler than before, and the leaves are starting to change, making everything even more beautiful, in my opinion. There are lots of reds and oranges in the trees around us, and as Papa slowly and carefully walks me down the grassy aisle, I’m ecstatic.