Page 153 of Broken Mafia Bride
“I’m going to go show Aunt Si,” Noemi announces before racing out of the room, her happy squeals trailing behind her.
“How much is the dress? I’ll write you a check,” I tell Marco.
“Keep your money,” he tells me. “It’s the least I can do for her. I wasn’t going to stand by and let her wear yellow to her parents’ wedding.”
“Still, I’d like to refund you for the dress. It’s no longer your responsibility to take care of her, anyway.” By that, I mean that he’s been replaced, and he should get lost.
He crosses his arms over his chest and leans up against the door frame. “If you’re going to write me a check for the dress, you should also go ahead and add the cost of all the dresses I’ve bought for her in the past. Plus the food, the electricity, the heater, the ice cream, her juice boxes, and probably all the time I spent taking her to the clinic and reading her bedtime stories.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He shrugs. “You’re going to be seeing a whole lot of me, pal. Get used to it.”
“I can make you disappear, Marty.”
“It’s Marco, you asshole.” He doesn’t seem bothered by my threat. “I’d hate to be you when you make me disappear, and then have to spend the rest of your life wracked with guilt.”
“You think I’d feel the faintest guilt about getting rid of you?” I snort. “You give yourself too much credit.”
“If you wanted to get rid of me, I’d be gone already.” He grins, straightening from the doorway and stepping forward until we’re almost chest to chest. “But then again, maybe you’re too much of a coward to make that move and get the thorn out of your side.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I tell him.
Have I thought about ordering Tommaso to file his car tires and cut his brakes? Yes. Will I do it? No. And it doesn’t have anything to do with cowardice or guilt.
Giulia has already lost so much, but no matter how much I dislike Marco, I know that she sees him as a friend. He helped to raise my daughter, too, and they have a bond I could never replace. I don’t want to ever see Giulia cry again, nor do I want to have to tell my kid that she’ll never see her uncle again.
I’m just going to have to get used to seeing the bastard often.
“Are you two about to start throwing punches?” Matteo’s bored voice drifts from the doorway. “Because you have twenty minutes to get to the altar, and I don’t know if it’s enough time to get the fight over and done with.”
Pepe steps past Matteo into the room. “Not to mention that I don’t think my sister-in-law wants her groom to show up with a dislocated jaw.”
“He’d never be able to land a hit,” I reply confidently.
Marco snorts. “There’s only one way to test that theory.”
“Eighteen minutes.” Matteo glances down at his Rolex. “Are we doing this or not? Because if I don’t get out of this fucking bowtie soon, someone’s jaw is going to need to be wired shut.”
“He’s not kidding,” Pepe pipes up.
I step away from Marco, glaring at my cousin and my so-called best friend. “Since when did you two start finishing each other’s sentences? It’s starting to feel like I’m being ganged up on.”
I walk up to the mirror and straighten my own tie, checking myself over to make sure there’s nothing out of place. I let out a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
“Fucking finally,” Matteo mutters, walking off, Pepe trailing after him.
As I begin to turn away from the mirror, I catch a glimpse of pain in Marco’s eyes that gives me pause. For all our differences, the fact remains that we both love Giulia and Noemi, and I’m the one she chose. For years, he thought he had a chance, only for me to swoop back in and ruin everything.
Our eyes meet in the mirror for a split second before he turns away.
There’s no reason to continue to hate Marco. I’m the one who gets the girl at the end of the day, while he’s left hovering on the periphery.
“Good luck,” his voice calls out as I make my way out of the room.
I nod. “Good luck to you, too.”
And without a backward glance, I continue on my way to finally make Giulia mine.
