Chapter 28 #2
We strolled through the corridor and into the main church.
The scent of incense, usually comforting, now felt heavy, almost suffocating.
Carina perched in the front row beside Tommaso and a few others.
Her lip stiffened when we flanked our positions beside the same priest who married Gemma and me.
Déjà vu. Except this time, it felt like a twisted parody.
Lucio whispered to the priest—perhaps to update him so he’d announce the correct name during the ceremony—who all of a sudden sweated profusely, beads forming on his forehead like tiny, glistening sins.
No different than at my wedding. I bet he’d retire from active ministry after this, scarred by the Calafiore family drama.
A small, bitter smile tugged at my lips.
Was this really happening? Was I actually getting out of this?
My shoulder blades prickled, a warning sign my body always offered when danger lurked.
I drew a shallow breath, trying to ignore it.
Lucio straightened his shoulders, radiating confidence. I stood, tense as a pole beside him, my best man duties feeling surreal. Every muscle in my body remained coiled, waiting. Waiting for the bomb to drop. Waiting for the other shoe to fall.
My brother’s prediction held true. Our mother represented a stunned mullet, her face a mask of disbelief. I wanted to laugh, but the laughter caught in my throat, choked by anticipation.
Members of the De Lucas entered and took their seats, each one carrying a gun strapped to their side. The glint of metal beneath expensive suits was a stark reminder of what was at stake.
Symphonic music filled the church, a soaring melody that felt strangely discordant given the circumstances.
The guests ascended from their seats, their faces a mix of curiosity and guarded expectation.
The front doors opened, and Nicolo De Luca, taking his deceased uncle’s place, stepped in to walk his cousin down the aisle. My heart hammered against my ribs.
Please, just let this be real. Please, let me be free.
“It’s her.” My brother whispered. His face brightened as if he’d won the jackpot. Relief flooded his features, a stark contrast to the knot in my stomach that refused to loosen. Was Lucio truly happy, or was this a performance to ebb my guilt?
“Who?” Where had he seen this girl?
“The girl from the festival,” he whispered, not taking his gaze off the bride.
His voice held a genuine lightness I hadn’t heard in years. And here I expected he’d dread marrying a complete stranger. “Heart-eyes emoji?”
He gripped my shoulder with one hand and gave a slow but sure nod. “One hundred percent.”
Part of me envied his easy acceptance, his ability to embrace the unknown. But that wasn’t me. I was forever tethered to the past, to the memory of Gemma, to the fear of losing everything again.
The young woman marched halfway up the aisle now.
Her gown shimmered under the dim light filtering from the stained glass window.
Indeed, the same woman Lucio ran off to chat with during the festival.
The girl risked a glimpse of her groom. Her down-turned expression evaporated, replaced with a genuine smile. At least they both favored each other.
A flicker of warmth sparked within me, a hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work out for Lucio.
Nicolo’s curiosity veered from me to Lucio.
I bit the inside of my cheek, tasting blood. To think this man was my half-brother. A shared bloodline, yet we were worlds apart, divided by loyalty and lies.
“I was told Enzo would be the groom.” He glanced me over, his gaze cold and calculating. “What? Cold feet?”
Lucio, who beamed at the bride, answered Nicolo. “Turns out my brother’s divorce isn’t finalized, so he’s still legally married to Gemma.” He tilted his chin at Nicolo, ever so smug. “If it’s a Cammarata you want, I’m the one available.”
An outright lie. Lucio, you genius. A mix of exasperation and grudging admiration swirled inside me.
Nicolo’s gaze sharpened, assessing Lucio with a new, perhaps approving, interest. He whispered to his cousin as if to gauge her approval. Her eager nod revealed her response. With the swapped grooms resolved, Lucio offered the bride his hand, and Nicolo occupied a pew in the front row.
The priest gave a nervous cough, his gaze darting between Lucio and me, as if waiting for someone to object. But no one did. The charade continued. The service transpired rather fast; the priest in a bigger hurry now than last time.
“Do you, Bianca, take Lucio to be your husband?”
“I do.” Her hands clenched around Lucio’s, her gaze fixed and unblinking.
“And do you, Lucio, take this woman, Bianca, to be your wedded wife?”
The priest’s litany evoked my own wedding. At the time, I never realized the day formed the best day of my life. The day I married the woman I loved.
Lucio nodded. “I do.”
The priest blessed their union and proclaimed them husband and wife, and an eager Lucio waved for the old man to hurry in his consent to kiss the bride. The moment arrived, and Lucio dipped his new wife in front of the entire church and planted a firm kiss on her lips.
Outside, I patted my brother on the back and congratulated him.
“Go get her.” He winked, elbowing me to act.
A tidal wave of elation surged through my veins, washing away the doubt, the fear, the lingering bitterness.
Go get her . The words echoed in my head, a mantra of freedom and redemption.
The world sharpened, the colors suddenly vibrant.
The scent of incense, no longer suffocating, now smelled like hope.
The weight on my shoulders vanished, replaced by an exhilarating lightness.
I clapped Lucio on the back, a genuine, unrestrained laugh erupting from my chest. “You pazzo . You did it, you actually did it!” I wanted to hug him, to shout from the rooftop of the church.
But there was no time. Gemma was waiting.
Nothing else mattered; not the De Lucas, not Carina’s manipulations, not the years of family drama.
All that faded into insignificance, dwarfed by the singular, burning desire to be with Gemma.
A primal urge took over, stripping away the carefully constructed facade of stoicism.
I was no longer the reluctant groom, the burdened son, the pawn in a dangerous game.
I was just Enzo, a man on a mission, driven by an all-consuming love.
Nicolo approached and kissed his cousin’s cheek.
Even the fact we were now joined to them couldn’t dampen my mood. I fished out my keys and jogged to my car.
“Enzo?” Carina stopped me from swinging the driver’s door open. Tears ran down her face.
I froze, gauging if they were crocodile tears, because I could no longer believe this woman’s words or actions.
“Nicolo never insisted on a marriage clause, did he? It was your idea all along.” I swallowed down my anger, remembering this woman gave birth to me, regardless of how much I hated her right now.
“If not for Lucio, I’d have made the biggest mistake of my life.
” I raked a hand through my hair. “Don’t you dare beg me to stay. ”
“I know I can’t stop you.” She slid her hand along my cheek, and I flinched away from her touch.
“Truth is, I’ve grown to like Gemma.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“Who wouldn’t like the girl? I became scared of looking like a fool.
I’d already allowed Elisabetta to shame me once. I wasn’t about to let it happen again.”
“Stop,” I spat through clenched teeth. “Just stop. I know what you’re doing, manipulating me again.”
Mouth agape, she slowly shook her head. “I swear to you, I’m not. I…”
“What?” I stretched out my arms. “You what?”
She cupped my hands into her own. “I’ve forgotten how to be a mother. To be honest, I don’t deserve the title… Why do you think I insisted you boys call me by my first name?”
Her flinch twisted my insides.
She passed a glance toward Lucio and his new bride.
“Seeing Lucio in the church, I felt such joy at his happiness.” She turned back to me.
“Then I saw you… you’ve been so miserable these last few days.
It dawned on me I’d become my father, forcing you to live a life you don’t want.
I’ve destroyed your life all on my own, even when I promised to protect you from the first moment I held you in my arms.” She gasped, the sound pained.
“When you were young, I’d always said you’d one day reach the moon… Gemma is your moon. I see that now.”
“You’re right about one thing…” I yanked my hands from her embrace. “You don’t deserve the title of mother. As far as I’m concerned… you’re dead to me.”
“Enzo,” she sobbed my name.
Her limo pulled up, and I nodded toward her ride. “We’re done here. Go.”
Shoulders slouched, she ducked into the back seat of the limo.
I slammed the door shut, and the car pulled away. Grabbing out my phone, I dialed the pilot to tell him to prepare the jet.
A deafening roar ripped through the air, vibrating the stained-glass windows of the church.
The limo’s side crumpled inward like tinfoil.
A mangled, metallic scream against the pristine black paint.
The acrid smell of burnt rubber and gasoline stung my nostrils.
The sight of Carina’s ride, once sleek, now a mangled wreck, made my stomach churn.
“Mamma!” Lucio shouted from the top stairs. “No!”
All the blood drained from my face. Unease sank in my gut. My words moments ago crashed into me. You’re dead to me . I cursed her. “What have I done?” My phone smashed to the ground, and I raced alongside my brother to the scene.