Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

It’s only invited guests tonight including Sophia and Nicholas, Dexie’s mom and sister, my brothers, my sister and her husband, most of my cousins, and my dad and April.

She’s still in treatment. Some days are good, others are worse, but she gets through each one with a smile as she clings to hope. We all do.

I spot Gina first as she walks through the door dressed as if she’s about to hit a Paris runway. Her red dress is stunning as is the smile on her face.

“I present to you,” Gina says as she waves her hand at the entrance. “Marti Calvetti.”

Marti walks in wearing a simple blue dress with the purse she’s carried for years slung over her shoulder. That’s not what catches my eye or the eyes of everyone else in the boutique.

“I love it,” Dexie whispers as she wraps her hands around my bicep. “Just look at her, Rocco.”

I do.

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The ear-to-ear grin on my grandmother’s face is beautiful. She walks over to us and reaches out one hand to Dexie and the other to me.

We take her hands at the same time.

“What do you think, Rocco?” Her eyebrows inch up.” Do you love it as much as I do?”

“I love it.” I lean down to kiss her cheek. “I love you.”

I never thought I’d see the day when my grandmother would walk into a room with blue streaks in her hair.

But then again, I never thought that I’d be marrying a beautiful woman with pink-streaked hair, a nose piercing and a tattoo on her wrist of the date she first saw me out her window.

I reach down to grab Dexie’s left hand to plant a kiss firmly over that tattoo.

This woman has changed my life in immeasurable ways and brought a light to my family that we didn’t know we needed.

She looks up and into my eyes. “I’ll meet you at the window at midnight, Rocco.”

“I’ll be there.” I smile down at her. “You can bet on that.”

***

“Do you think she’s happy?” Dexie calls over her shoulder as I walk into our living room ten minutes before midnight.

I peer at the dark-haired woman living in her old apartment. Two of the blinds are closed; one is still open giving us a bird’s eye view into her life.

I wrap my arms around my fiancée from behind, tugging her into my bare chest. I traded the black suit I was wearing earlier for a pair of sweatpants. She’s dressed in black panties and a pink tank top.

“I know I’m happy.” I inhale her sweet scent. “I know five minutes from now when I’m between your legs, I’ll be happier.”

She reaches up to close the curtains.

When she turns to face me, I cup her cheeks in my hands. Brushing my lips against hers, I groan when I hear the moan that escapes her.

“Marry me tomorrow,” I say the same three words I say to her every night.

“Maybe the day after tomorrow,” she replies the same way she always does, but then she hesitates and goes on, “or maybe two months from now on a Saturday afternoon in Bryant Park.”

I pull back to stare into her brown eyes. “Are we setting a date?”

“We’re setting a date.”

I scoop her up into my arms like the bride she’ll be in just eight weeks. “We need to celebrate.”