Page 64 of The Mafia's Bride
I’ve never had this kind of tradition, never had this kind of connection to my relatives. There’s gentle ribbing, reminiscing, inside jokes and love, filling the garden with a shimmering kind of peace that I want to hold on to.
I want freedom but this… this is also nice.
Lex sits down next to me, holding a glass of red wine, full lips smiling softly as he takes in my mess. The wine is homemade, brought by another family member.
Another family tradition, making wine in the fall, another excuse to spend time together. Another event they expect me to be a part of becauseI’mfamily.
Heat surges through my middle, turning the two glasses of wine I’ve already had up my throat, colliding with my confusion and joy.
“I’ll let you have this, as long as you don’t throw it at my head.” He teases.
I can’t help but glare. “No promises.”
He tsks, sipping from it much to my displeasure, not sharing with me. “Pity. Zio Frankie would be very pissed if his prized moonshine is thrown all over the yard.”
I grab the glass to spite him, a few drops sloshing over the side. “Fuck off, Lex.”
Stepping into my space, he twirls a lock of loose hair over his gloved finger, seeds still stuck to it. “I’d much rather fuck off with you, little menace. You’d feel much better than my fist.”
“Get a room, you two,” Dom winces, disgust highlighting his face. “There are kids present.”
Dom moves near us, dropping more tomatoes on to the folding table with a thump. Lex laughs, ignoring his cousin’s glare.
“Ah, crushing the tomatoes, cousin? Maria took you off cutting too, eh.”
Dom grumbles something under his breath.
“She said I wasn’t doing it right,” I reply, sipping the sweetened wine. It’s light for a red, tasting like plum and chocolate.
“No one does it right for Maria. This,” he points to a very small scar under his lip that I didn’t notice until now, hidden behind his stubble, “was my first attempt at using a knife when cutting tomatoes with her. I was nine. Somehow, the knife flew through the air. Cut me and took a good chunk out of Maria’s hair. After that, she took that job away from me permanently.”
“A mafia man who can’t handle a knife.” I scoff, seeing a small grin spilt his face at my teasing. Fuck, I didn’t want to tease my husband but it’s becoming second nature now. I like being the cause of his smile. “How scandalous.”
“And a mafia daughter who can use it to draw blood.” He winks, tapping the side of his neck. Pride warms my heart at seeing my mark, permanently etched into his skin. “How very basic.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to my job, trying to put distance between us. Without prompting, he adds more to the top, pushing through the red chucks as I crank the lever. We work in silence together, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.
I like this, this feeling of belonging, of a family. I’ve never had it before.
“Is this like a high holiday for you people?” I glance from Lex to Dom.
“It’s a tradition,” Lex answers, draining my glass. The gloves leave marks on the sides, smudged with tomato juice. “We all cometogether, talk, laugh. Life and business tend to sour things, so these nights are a way to remember we’re a family first.” He keeps pushing the mess through, forearms straining under his shirt. My thoughts drift to finally seeing him naked between my legs.
One night, and I’m a heaving mess for him.
“When the sauce is done, we divide it up. Maria uses it for Sunday dinners.” He cuts me a look. One that ends all arguments. “You’re going this Sunday. Maria’s orders. It’s weird for the second’s wife not to be in attendance at a family meal.”
Dom laughs on the other side of the family. “Mama doesn’t take no for an answer, so might as well agree now, Red.”
Rolling my eyes at the nickname, I don’t miss how Lex glares at his cousin. “So, Sunday dinners are a thing, then.”
Lex smirks, wiping his gloves off on the rag beside me. His hand falls to my hip, touching me like he’s done it for decades. “Absolutely. Maria’s way of checking in on us. We’ll be there, a few other aunts and cousins when they can make it. Dom.” He glances to him, but he’s intently crushing the tomatoes. “Maria used to say this was a way to remember we’re family first. A business second.”
A wonderful sentiment. Too bad I’m pretty sure Maria was the only one who thought that way.
“Did your family have Sunday dinners, Sloane?” he asks innocently, pulling me closer.
I’m ready to ignore his question, clam up and hide away. It’s painful to talk about my family, to remember Pops’ yelling, Maeve’s silence, Collins’ medical emergency, Briar running away. How alone I felt in that big house to the point that I was suffocating and needed to do anything, take anything, to feel alive. To feel seen.
