Chapter Twenty-Eight
(Cesare)
“You know, I always figured Dante would be your best man.” Raffi muttered as he tied Cesare’s necktie. “I’m not bitching, I’m just saying it’s a nice surprise is all.”
“It’s not legal.” Cesare grunted. “We both know that.”
Raffi lifted his brows in amusement and looked pointedly towards the hall, where they could both hear Cesare Sr. talking to Sabrina as if he’d known her his whole life. “Sure.” Raffi grinned.
They were getting ready in the sacristy, a side room at the church, where the priest typically prepared for mass. To Cesare, it seemed fitting somehow to be preparing for a wedding in the same room.
Sabrina was with Enzo and his father in the back of the nave, the main hall of the cathedral church. As they waited for Stefano and Auntie Mirabella to arrive, Father Patrick was very excitedly making last-minute preparations up at the alter.
From the sacristy, Cesare listened to the echoes of Sabrina’s melodic voice and blinked, turning back to face Raffi. “I’m about to make some serious promises. But they mean very little if she doesn’t mean them back.” He frowned.
Raffi nodded. “Maybe there’s something to be said for taking a leap of faith. Listen to her out there with Pops. You’d think he’s talking to a long-lost daughter the way he’s going on.”
Cesare tilted his head to the side. “To be clear, the neurosurgeon who schedules his life in fifteen minute increments is telling me to take a blind leap?”
Raffi shrugged. “If you were rock climbing with her, would you trust her to relay you down a cliff?”
Cesare cleared his throat after a moment, then nodded.
“Then you’re already off to a better start than most of the married men I know.” Rafael clapped Cesare’s back.
A mild commotion picked up outside as Auntie Maribella’s exuberant voice could be heard, and Cesare identified Stefano’s low baritone speaking to Sabrina, offering his best wishes.
“Always so fucking formal.” Cesare gave an incredulous laugh.
Raffi frowned. “You know you don’t need to do this today for real, right? If you don’t want to. We can always tell Father Patrick it’s just to calm down Pops until we figure out what’s going on in his head.”
Cesare stared at his reflection in the mirror and swallowed thickly. “Pops seems to like her.” He attempted a casual shrug.
Raffi stared for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. “You love her.”
Cesare swallowed thickly, looking from his own reflection to Raffi’s, and simply stared.
“Alright.” Raffi nodded. “It’s okay, we’ll take care of her. We’ll treat her like family.”
Cesare gave a snort. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”