The Woman with the Ring (Costa Family)

“But my presence is only going to remind them that I’m not around anymore.”

“Baby, the lack of your presence would have left a hole,” he told me, shrugging. “They might not have openly said so, but everyone would have felt it. You’re anxious for no reason.”

Was Primo a soft and sweet on-the-spot therapist? No, not at all. But did he manage to get the job done? He sure did.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for the knob.

“Good girl,” Primo murmured, and damn it if my belly didn’t flip-flop a little at his words.

There wasn’t time to analyze my reaction to what he’d said, though, because as soon as the door pushed open, and everyone gathered in the living room at the front of the house saw me, it was chaos.

There was a second of stunned silence. And a few worried glances at the man towering over me.

But the shock was quickly replaced with shrieks as Mira bounded toward me in her ballet flats and wearing a dress I knew she hated, but put on because our mother would have had a fit if she didn’t.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here! Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she asked as my mother ran over, tears already ruining her carefully-applied makeup as her arms went around me, wrapping me up tighter than ever before.

“Oh, my girl. My girl. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, Mom,” I assured her, blinking hard at my own tears.

It was the women who greeted me first. And their love had been immediate and easy.

But it was the men I was most nervous about.

In particular, Emilio and Anthony. Even if Anthony was the baby of the family, he had managed to get himself on the books with the Costa Family. And as such, he would hate Primo not only because he’d forced me into marriage, but just on principle because of the animosity between the Families that went back for years.

They were standing off near the center staircase, both in matching black suits. Emilio was leaner in build, and wearing one of his trademarked obnoxious belt buckles—and I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother had yet realized that it was mistletoe printed on it, or what he was insinuating there. Anthony was younger, but more widely built, looking like the football player he’d been in high school since he’d lucked out to attend a school that actually offered it.

I was vaguely aware of my female family members taking the ziti and bags from Primo and offering him friendly enough greetings, but my focus was on my brothers.

“It’s going to be fine,” Primo said again, pressing his hand into my lower back and actually pushing me forward when my feet refused to carry me on their own.

“Hey.” That was all I could manage to squeak out as Primo forced me forward until I was standing directly in front of my brothers. “Ah, Merry Christmas,” I added, feeling my heart sinking.

It must have been on my face, too, because suddenly, of all people, Primo came to my rescue.

“You’re seriously going to let her stand here and feel like her brothers don’t give a shit about her anymore just because you don’t like the situation? The fuck kind of family is this?”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think—“ Emilio started, the rage inside him something I’d never really seen before, something I didn’t like seeing there. He’d always been the laid-back member of the Costa Family, the easy-going guy who still managed to get work done.

“I’m the man who won’t stand by and watch his wife get disrespected. Not even by her own brothers,” Primo cut him off, voice low and chilling.

So, yeah, we weren’t exactly off to a great start.

“Your wife,” Anthony scoffed.

“Yes, my wife,” Primo said, voice firm.

“Primo,” I said, pressing a hand into his stomach, something that had his gaze snapping to me since I usually tried not to deliberately touch him.

Seeming to sense the plea in my face or in my voice, his jaw loosened. “How about I get you a glass of wine?” he offered.

“Yes,” I said, nodding, giving him my silent gratitude. “That would be great.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, giving my hip a squeeze, then walking off.

“I hoped you’d be happy to see me,” I said as soon as Primo was gone, but I noticed that Emilio’s gaze followed Primo until he heard me speak.

I hadn’t been trying to hide the vulnerability in my voice. I was upset. And I wasn’t accustomed to hiding that around my family. That wasn’t how we operated. We gave one another pure authenticity, even when it was raw and ugly.

“Oh, Bells,” Emilio said, anger falling, getting replaced almost immediately with sadness. “Of course I’m happy to see you,” he said, already reaching for me. “Are you okay?” he asked, holding me tightly against him. “Mira said you were okay. But I couldn’t believe it without seeing it myself.”