All these thoughts were racing through my mind as we stared at each other. I needed Antonio, I realized. Antonio would fix this. He would get her away before anyone noticed, especially his older brother or his men.
And then my mother did something so crazy it made my breath catch. She crossed the street and walked right up to the house.
I was on my feet and screaming the split-second she disappeared from view.
“Antonio! I need Antonio!”
The big goons outside the suite stared at me when I threw open the door, still in my nightgown. Then at each other. “Now!” Finally, one of them nodded and the other one ran off. Well, ‘ran’ was a stretch. But he hustled as much as a giant slab of meat could hustle while maintaining his dignity.
Even the goons had a pecking order, I was coming to understand.
I heard Antonio before I saw him.
“Shut the door.”
The remaining goon shut the door in my face. I heard Tony’s footsteps outside.
“Tony? I need to talk to you.”
“Go into the bedroom. We can talk through the door.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other on their wedding day.”
I laughed hysterically. I had bigger problems. I needed to talk to him now!
“Are you serious?”
I could almost see him nod before he answered.
“We Italians take our superstitions very seriously.” He sighed and lowered his voice. “We don’t need any more bad luck, Evie.”
Well, he had a point there.
“Okay, fine. I’m going.”
I stomped through the suite until I was in the room and closed the door. Not too quietly, either. Then I leaned against it and waited, tapping my foot.
A soft chuckle let me know that Antonio was on the other side.
“You are angry with me. That doesn’t bode well.”
“I’m not—argh! I need your help.”
“Tell me,” he said without hesitation. “And it’s done.”
“My mother is here.”
The silence on the other side of the door was deafening.
“I know.”
I stared at the door with my mouth hanging open. I heard him sigh. I could tell he was leaning against the door. It was . . . almost an embrace.
“I invited her.”
“She’s . . . she won’t behave. She’ll try and take me away!”
He sighed.
“I knew that was a possibility.”
“No, you don’t know! My mother is an unstoppable force. She is a counter-culture folk hero! She takes on corporations and wins! She is not afraid of anything.”
“Evie . . . you just have to convince her that you are happy.”
“I . . . what?”
I leaned my forehead against the door. I was pretty sure there was only an inch of wood between us. No other space. No air.
“I know this isn’t . . . what you would have chosen. But I think . . . I know I can make you happy. And I think you want to make me happy too.”
“I do . . .” I whispered, realizing the risk he had taken to make me happy on our wedding day. Realizing how much he must care about my feelings to bring her here. “I do, Antonio.”
“Then convince her. Get mad if you have to. Pull the whole rebel card if you need to.”
“Me, a rebel?”
“Maybe not a rebel.” He chuckled. “But maybe you hit your independent streak once you were away from home. Blame the roommate.”
“Sara?”
“She’s not a great influence, is she?”
“She’s not that bad. She just went through a bad breakup.”
Antonio didn’t say anything, but I could sense him judging her. He didn’t like it that she’d left me to go hook up with some guy. But there was no way she could have known I’d get roofied.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted with a sigh. I closed my eyes, trying to figure out what on earth I could say to my mother.
“I can’t lie to her.”
“She’ll forgive you for lying. I promise. Even if she never knows the truth. Mothers are like that.”
I slid down the door and sat with my back to it. He had put me in a terrible position. But he’d also given me the greatest gift.
My mother was here.
For my wedding.
I closed my eyes and nodded.
“All right. Yes. Send her up.”
“Good girl.”
“Ugh, I hate that patriarchy crap.”
He laughed.
“I know, but I can’t help it. I’m proud of you. No. Not proud. I’m impressed. Is that okay?”
I laughed and nodded.
“Yes. That’s okay.”
“Good. And Evie?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll see you soon. Right?”
“Yes. You will.”
I sat there listening to the soft click of his footsteps on the marble floor as he walked away. The next time I saw him, we’d be married.
Chapter 29
Antonio
“Who has a morning wedding on a weekday?”
“Cheap people and overeager grooms?” Mikey offered with a grin. I threw him a grateful look even though he was throwing shade my way. Our cousin was good at defusing the tension. He’d had a fuckton of practice with it over the years.