EPILOGUE - GIO
SIX MONTHS LATER
I’m getting married today.
Re-married, I should say. The past six months have been a bittersweet mix of fresh starts and unexpected changes, but Vivi, Aurora, and I have found our rhythm as a family, and we wanted to celebrate.
Commemorate our commitment with a proper party.
It’s January on the island, the temperatures cool and the sun leaving the sky by late afternoon.
Vivi has added hundreds of flameless candles to the one-room chapel, and the glow brings a new warmth to the ancient stone building.
Bundles of white, pink, and red camellias hang from the ends of the pews and tumble down from urns placed in front of the altar.
The effect is simple, elegant, absolutely beautiful.
Padre Luigi gives me a sign, letting me know we’re starting shortly.
Despite Santoro fucking up and giving Francesca the code to the cells, I’ve let the priest keep his job. There aren’t many men of the cloth who are willing to say Mass and manage an underground prison on an isolated island.
I turn to my Best Man, gesture to my charcoal grey three-piece suit. “Well, old man—will I do?”
Vampa runs a critical eye over me, gives my tie a sharp tug.
I know it’s perfectly straight, but I let him.
Having him be away has been hard on both of us.
I never really let myself think about what it would be like when we were no longer working side by side every day.
Elio is excelling in his new role—the kid might be even more cutthroat than Vampa—but I still miss the older man’s steady, stoic nature.
“You look good, Signore. Your parents would be incredibly proud.” He slaps a hand on my back, clearing his throat as he blinks a little too fast. “Your sister, too.”
I force a breath around the lump in my throat. “Grazie mille.”
From the front pew, Alik and Sera give a wave. Elio is in the back of the chapel, helping Aurora recollect the camellia petals that seem to keep escaping from her wicker basket.
A minute later, Dana pops her head through the chapel’s main doors, scanning the cosy room to make sure we’re all in place. When everything meets her approval, she flashes me a thumbs up.
The congregation is tiny. Our intimate collection of friends and family, along with members of staff and guards not currently on duty.
Everyone’s here, except Francesca.
Like with Vampa, I didn’t expect to miss her as much as I do. We’d forged a bond when we were in the trenches after Giulia and Matteo’s deaths, both of us learning to parent Aurora in the midst of our own grief. For two years we were partners; not having that anymore is a real loss.
Similarly, for two years Francesca was Ro’s surrogate mom.
Her absence has hit my daughter hard. Vivi and I have been gentle with her, kind and patient when she insists that Aunt Chesca is the only one who can read a particular bedtime story, or that Aunt Chesca draws ponies better than anyone else.
We know that some things will always belong to just the two of them and, if all goes well, there will be a time when Aurora can see Francesca again.
Vivi and I have tried to visit Francesca, but her doctors aren’t allowing outside guests. We were able to sit down with her mother, and that turned out to be just as hard.
Ginevra gave us painful insight into what life in the Pazzi household was like for Francesca. It made me realize how awful things must’ve been for my sister, too.
And the details of the Signora’s hit on her own son left me and Vivi stunned.
The night he murdered my sister, Matteo contacted his mother. Confessed to what he’d done. Told her he was arranging to meet me in Sant’Angelo early the next day. Matteo told her that he was going to talk to me, figure out a way to make everything okay.
Signora Pazzi knew it would never be okay.
She knew what her son had done, past and present. She knew where he’d be. She knew that she needed to stop him, once and for all.
And Ginevra Pazzi knew something else. That, contrary to Vivi’s belief, the nuns at the Convento dell'Addolorata do actually go around poisoning people, amongst other things. Rather, they facilitate it.
Every so often, over the decades, the Mother Superior has helped a small number of female clients remove threatening men from their lives, for a substantial fee. Medieval-era convents, it turns out, are very expensive to maintain.
When Ginevra contacted the Mother Superior about Matteo, the prioress conveniently had someone on hand to do the job.
A low-ranking mafioso from Chicago who was bloodthirsty, greedy, eager to increase his body count and get promoted through the ranks.
And was already visiting the convent…to propose to Vivi.
And he came with credentials verified by Carlo Salviati. He was the obvious choice.
What Salviati failed to tell the Mother Superior was that Tino was careless, sloppy, stupid. Far too cavalier with other people’s lives.
It’s taken Vivi and me a long time to come to terms with how much damage the Pazzis, Salviatis, and Valoris have done to our lives and the lives of our loved ones.
There’ve been dark moments, but we’ve agreed we need to break the cycle of vengeance, especially where the Marchettis and Pazzis are concerned. For Aurora’s sake. For the sake of our growing family.
Ro is getting antsy at the chapel entrance. She keeps tugging on Elio’s sleeve, asking him if it’s time.
I know exactly how she feels.
I’ve been counting down the days to this moment since I proposed to Vivi on Christmas Eve.
She told me I was being silly, that we’re already married, and I told her that she deserved to be asked.
For me to get down on one knee. For her to know, without a doubt, that she’s the only woman I want as my wife.
And she deserved to have a gorgeous ring.
She laughed, and kissed me, and said yes with so much heartfelt enthusiasm I cursed myself for not doing it sooner.
She’s spent the past month pulling together this intimate celebration, and I can’t fucking wait to say I do to the love of my life.
There’s a creak from the back of the chapel, the doors swinging open on ancient hinges. The string quartet starts to play. Elio gives Aurora the Go sign, and she walks toward me, eyes focused on the ground as she sprinkles flower petals with Marchetti precision.
Then comes Dana, smiling broadly as she swishes by Elio without a second glance. We haven’t seen as much of her since they stopped sleeping together, but the young American has decided she loves Italy so much that she’s not going home. Vivi’s delighted; they’ve become incredibly close.
At last, Elena and Vivi enter. The younger Salviati sister still lives in California, where she’s going to university, but she visits whenever she can and, during those weeks, the sisters are inseparable. Tonight, Elena is walking Vivi up the aisle.
As they start their procession, Elena gives me a tiny thumbs up. The signal that Vivi is feeling good. She’s not struggling with any pregnancy symptoms tonight.
My wife is six months pregnant, and I swear she gets even more gorgeous every day.
Tonight, half of her red hair is braided and woven around her head like a crown, the other half cascading down her back in waves.
Her dress is a simple sheath of silk, cut to leave plenty of space for her growing belly, with a high-waisted bodice that hugs her breasts in a way that makes my suit trousers dangerously tight.
She had it custom-made on the mainland, traveling via boat every week to attend the fittings.
Her cheeks are flushed a gorgeous pink that matches the camellia blossoms in her hair. Secured in her braid is a tiny diamond clip featuring a bird, in memory of Little Bird who has long since healed and flown away. The diamond necklace I gave her for her birthday sparkles around her neck.
On her feet are a pair of fur-lined white slippers. She wanted to go barefoot. I told her it would be too cold. We compromised.
And both of us agreed there would be no veil.
Vivi is radiant as she walks down the aisle toward me and, for a moment, I swear I leave my body completely. That the love I have for her and our family—and the hope I have for our future—swells so large it’s impossible to contain.
Thankfully, by the time Vivi reaches me, and Elena hands her over with a sisterly peck on my cheek, I’m back on solid ground. Stable, strong, and even more in love with my bride than I was when I woke up this morning.
As soon as we’re together, Vivi grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. She tugs until I’m bending down, my face level to hers. Padre Luigi hasn’t started the service yet. Vampa is still holding the rings, and Elana is rearranging the modest train on Vivi’s dress.
The whole ceremony is seconds from kicking off, and my wife kisses me. No preamble, no warning, just her lips and tongue and breathy sigh as she starts the ceremony the way it’s supposed to end.
When she finally releases me, I’m dazed. Love and lust-struck. “What was that for, bella?”
Her smile is deceptively sweet. No hint of the desire I can see banked in her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting yourself into by marrying me…again.”
“Hmm, bella, and what’s that?”
Vivi’s eyes twinkle, her smile absolutely fucking glowing. “A life that’s sexy and messy and unpredictable. Hard to control. Full of love.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “That’s exactly what you want?”
I frame her face in my hands, tip her mouth up for a kiss that makes her melt. “Sì, sì, bella,” I promise her. “It is. I do.”
la fine
Thank you so much for reading Gio & Vivi’s story! I hope you’ve fallen hard for this installment of the Omertà Brotherhood.