Future and Forgiveness (The Four Families #5)

1. Alana

Alana

The Wobble is the single, longest song in the history of time. I’ve destroyed governments in less time than it takes to do The Wobble. The song also is even longer when the groomsmen start off with a ten-minute choreographed dance number.

The air in the reception hall hangs over me like a fleece blanket in the summer, and the stink of stale cologne, booze and early onsets of body odor chokes me.

I step out onto the deck for a break, closing the music and noise behind the door.

The chilly early October breeze is exactly what I need.

But, of course, someone will assume I snuck out because the wedding is too much for poor Alana.

I’ve noticed their attention on me more since the summer.

Geez, you die one time and everyone’s suddenly concerned about your well-being.

Resting my arm on the porch railing, I study the pond and the new landscaping Waverly put in this past spring. I’m sure it’s stunning in the day with its changing leaves, but right now everything is dark on black.

My phone buzzes, and it’s Lena. She’s still upset she couldn’t come to the wedding, but Lance and Izzy agreed that Lena would be more of a distraction and a security risk. And it would mean that half the wedding guests couldn’t enjoy the night because they would feel obligated to be on the clock.

Lena: You ok?

Me: Of course.

Lena: You did good tonight.

I know I did. My successes are all in that reception hall.

I gave my best friend a wife and family.

Lukas is going to take Waverly to the Azores in November to propose.

Dimitri and Katya are engaged already. No wedding date has been planned, they’re just happy to be together.

Joey and Jenny are doing great. She’s renting out her apartment, and they’re living together with a dog.

Even this hotel has a newfound life because of me. Everything is going to plan.

The music comes crashing in when someone opens the door. Ugh, I’ll never be alone.

“Helluva party in there,” Andrey says. Of all the Four Families fathers, I have the most mixed feelings about him.

“Weddings usually are,” I say in a flat, ‘well duh’ voice.

He’s wearing a navy-blue suit with an orange pocket square. His hair is slicked back, and now that he’s taking care of his skin, he might pass for fifty.

“How are you doing?” He stands next to me, sharing my view of the pond.

“I’m fine.” But getting more annoyed with every passing second. “It was a beautiful wedding.”

“Yes, it was.” His head dips low as he says, “It’s a shame my family won’t have one.”

“Like hell.” I didn’t work this hard for four years just to whiff it at the end with the last family.

The grandmothers that bonded the four crime families together paid me to safeguard the future of their legacy.

That meant heirs. Fine, but all the grandkids were a mess and barely functional humans.

So, I fixed them and paired them off. Not easy by any means, but doable.

The Russians are the last family I need to finish on the list, and Andrey here is the only one who has a problem with it.

“Maybe,” he pushes himself off the banister and says, “but I won’t be attending.” There’s a finality to his tone, like it’s been decided by ancient gods and passed down as lore. He’s so fucking melodramatic. He adds, under his breath with that ‘woe is me’ tone, “They wouldn’t want me there anyway.”

“Yeah, well, sending your gay son to Russia might not have been the best call.” He scoffs and steps further away. Andrey’s heard this all a million times. Mostly because I set a calendar notification on his phone to remind him not to be a twat to his family. “Or you could tell Uri the truth.”

He whips around and gives me his most deadly glare, and I see the mob boss in him, not the broken man. I raise my eyebrow and he steps back. His eyes drift to the water with resignation. “It’s better this way.”

“On the list of shitty dads, you are in the top ten but not in the top five. There’s still time to fix this.”

He huffs and somehow even the puff of air has a Russian accent. “How’s he doing in private security?”

“He’s great.” Actually, I have no clue. I should check in on that. My phone rings, and I frown when I see Fuck Nugget on the screen. “Hey, one of the top five shitty dads is calling right now.”

Andrey takes his cue to leave as I answer. “Who threatened to beat the shit out of you today?”

Fuck Nugget exhales, his voice hoarse and raw from years of verbal abuse. “No one, I was calling to check in on you.”

“That’s… uncharacteristic since you never check in on your own kids.”

“And you sure as shit make sure I’m paying for them.”

“Your orgasm, your money.” We’ve had this conversation many times, but I do like quoting his son’s logic back at him. It always drives the knife deeper.

“Whatever.” His voice drops with a rare moment of sincerity, “Today was probably hard on you, and I wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, but I doubt it's for my mental health.”

“Well, every time you’re in a shitty mood, I get scheduled for a colonoscopy. The last two times the appointment was canceled after I finished taking the shit juice.”

Hehehehe.

“Well colon cancer is a serious threat to a man of your age. We can’t be too careful.”

“Go to hell,” he grumbles. Normally he would hang up right about now, but he lingers. “You didn’t answer the question. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” It's been my mantra all day.

He’s silent on the other side of the phone, then, “Take care of yourself, King.” Hmm, he’s come a long way in the six years I’ve been watching him. Check another box in the success column.

The wedding planner opens the door and gives me the signal.

It’s time. The air smells like booze, sugar and sweat in the reception hall.

Lance lost his tux jacket hours ago, and his bowtie hangs loose around his neck.

The man hasn’t stopped smiling all day. He sees me and drags his new wife over, shouting, “ALANA!” the whole way. He’s also very drunk.

Izzy’s perfect updo has fallen slightly, and her makeup has faded into a more natural version of herself. Her train is in a bustle, and she switched to white crocs after the pictures were taken… which is a choice. Not one I would make, but to each their own.

“I LOVE YOU!!!” Izzy screams. She’s not drunk, but lost in bridal bliss, which will make what I have to say and tomorrow morning a billion times better.

Do not evil laugh—keep it together.

I glance over at the DJ who turns down the music. The four kids, Drew, Ian, Shae and Maria all stop mid weird kid dance moves. Seriously, how do they move their bodies like that? It looks like ooze getting electrocuted.

Izzy wraps her arms around my shoulders and whispers, “Thank you.” She’s acutely aware of what I’m losing tonight because it’s everything she’s gaining. I take her hands off my body and squeeze them.

“When you’re going through your gifts, you won’t see one from me,” I say. Izzy smiles, but that’s not the answer she wanted, and her shoulders lose a bit of their energy.

“You’ve given us so much already,” she says.

I reunited her with her family, got her kid in the best private school on the East Coast, got her a job and a husband. And of course, I notarized Lance’s official adoption of Drew. I should stop there, but I’m on a roll.

“Well, I figured now that you're an official family, you should probably go on vacation. The sooner the better.” I pause and watch the confusion spread on Lance’s face.

“And I think every princess should spend a night in a castle or at least a castle adjacent. I hear there’s a place in Florida where you can do that. ”

Izzy gasps and it draws her son’s attention. Drew pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead and walks slowly over to his mom, like if he moves too fast it might break the spell I’m clearly under. The kid is smart. I’ll give him that. He lights up when he figures out exactly where they’re going.

“Wait, are you sending us to…”

I wave to one of the staff at the back of the reception hall who shifts a bellhop cart with three bags of luggage into the room. There are squeals of excitement radiating out of Izzy. It’s like his brain is buffering, because Lance furrows his brows and finally connects the dots.

“When?”

“Wheels up in an hour and half.” I love the joyful and yet confused expression on Lance’s face.

“Relax, you're still going to Geneva but a few days later. I adjusted your reservations.” Well, I didn’t, that was all Macie.

The happy family showers me with gratitude and “you shouldn’t haves.

” Lance sounds more frustrated and irritated than the rest.

“I was also thinking, while you’ll love the times in the parks, maybe you might not want to share a hotel room with your twelve-year-old son during your honeymoon.”

Yep, that’s what Lance is annoyed about. Drew’s upper lip curls to his nose and disgust washes over his face. He doesn’t want that either. At this point a crowd has formed around the bride and groom. I clap with a dramatic flair.

“Where could Drew go at night that won’t have him in therapy until he’s in his fifties? Then I remembered that Ian has been in the US for five years and still hasn’t gone to Florida to meet some famous mice. So, Drew could hang out in Ian’s room as long as that's okay with Dimitri and Katya?”

Stunned silence falls over the crowd as Dimitri stammers, “What?” Is there anything better than when a giant Russian man is lost for words? Katya protests, but I know what she’s worried about. I’m her boss after all.

“I already gave you the time off and reassigned your client list.” I tap my head.

“Then I remembered that we only have six more months before Shae is a teenager, and she’s going to think all of this is uncool.

So, she, her big sister, and parents should probably go too before that happens.

And I don’t think Waverly’s boyfriend has ever been there either, so that needs to be rectified. "