"Right."
"And the car out back is a 64, I think. But in the boy's room, there are books that weren't published until the early 80s. The poster on the wall, of the White Sox, was of the '78 team or something. I can't remember. Anyway, but in here, you know, shit is more modern. That wine bottle right there on the dresser even says 1998 on the label."
"Wow," Matty mumbled. "That's a lot of numbers you just tossed out."
"Yeah, well, who the hell knows what they all add up to." She slid the black dress over her head, letting it fall down around her body. "I'll figure it out, though."
"You seem invested."
"We kind of got dropped in the middle of someone's life, in their house, with their things, in the middle of fucking nowhere, where nobody with an ounce of sanity would want to live. It makes me feel like we might be in an Amityville Horror sequel."
"I don't think it's anything that bad."
"So you don't know?" she asked, eyeing him. "You have to know something."
"I told you what I know. It was a favor from a friend of a friend. They offered the keys, said they didn't need the place."
"It's weird."
"It is," he agreed, "but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Genna. Besides, the last thing you do with people like them is get curious."
"Yeah, I know," she muttered, slipping her feet into the high heels before reaching into the back of the closet, pulling out an old dry cleaning bag. "Here, put this on."
Matty took it carefully. "What is it?"
"A suit. A crazy expensive one, too, from what I could tell."
"How do you know it'll fit me?"
"I don't," she said. "Won't know until you try."
Matty unzipped it to pull out the suit. It was gray with a subtle pinstripe pattern, paired with a black button down shirt. "You seriously want me to wear this?"
"Yes."
Letting out a resigned sigh, Matty walked away.
Genna tinkered around as he showered, fixing her hair and putting on a bit of makeup. It wasn't much, whatever she'd acquired at the drugstore in town. It made her feel better, though.
Amazing what a pair of heels and some lip-gloss can do...
Genna was lingering in the kitchen when Matty resurfaced, making his way downstairs. He'd ditched the coat but the pants fit him, maybe a bit tighter in the ass than he might've liked, but Genna certainly enjoyed that view. Wow. The shirt hugged him in all the right places, the buttons stopping around his chest, showing off a flash of skin. He paused in front of her, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.
"You look nice," he said, eyes scanning her.
"Right back at you." She grinned. "Vintage."
"I look like a walking cliché," he said, glancing down at himself. "Like I stepped right out of Scarface."
"That's the 80s," she said, "but it's totally making a comeback, you know. And hush, because seriously... those pants? Wow. That suit does a body good."
Matty tugged on the pants, trying to adjust them. "You're lucky I'm secure with my manhood. These pants are so tight I'm pretty sure they're cutting off the circulation to my balls."
She laughed. "They're not that tight. I can't even see your, you know…"
He cut his eyes at her as she pointed toward his crotch, wiggling her finger. "My balls?"
Another laugh. "Yes."
"You can't see them because they're gone. They shriveled up and died from the lack of oxygen."
"You know, you've been talking about them a lot lately..."
"That's because they're important," he said, stepping close enough to grasp her by the hips. "We can't have more kids if I've been de-nutted."
"Whoa, buddy," she whispered. "I haven't even popped out this one and you're already planning others?"
"I've been planning them since the second I laid eyes on you," he said, his voice low. "The moment you stepped onto that elevator, the first thing I thought was, 'damn, we'd make pretty babies'."
"Is that right?"
"Yep."
"How many babies are we talking? Two? Three?"
"Seven."
She coughed, choking on thin air. "Seven?"
"It's a good number," he said. "A lucky number."
"Yeah, well, two feels pretty lucky. It's a good number. I like it. What's your problem with two?"
"No problem with it," he said, grinning. "It's not seven, but I won't object to two. All I know is that I'm more than happy spending the rest of my life knocking you up."
"Knocking me up," she mumbled, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her. "So romantic."
"Romance. Is that what you want?"
"Maybe."
"You want me to wine you and dine you? Bring you back home and sixty-nine you? You want me to take you out for another ten-inch steak?"
"Kiss my ass."
"I can certainly do that," he said, not missing a beat. "I can do even more than just kiss it, if you're down. I can take you upstairs, strip you out of that dress, and turn you out until sunrise, Princess."
"Mm… can you?"
"Absolutely." He kissed along her jawline before whispering in her ear. "You wouldn't have to ask me twice. Anything you want, however you want it... I could make love to you all night, over and over, or you know, maybe just fuck you senseless for a few hours. Fuck you with my mouth, my tongue… caress every inch of your body, whatever you want. Just ask and it's yours, Genna."
She hummed. "Anything?"
"Anything," he promised.
"What I really want is pickles."
The second that she said that, the spell broke. Matty let out a laugh as he pulled away. "Pickles?"
"Yeah." She scrunched up her nose. "It's weird, but I would seriously kill for some."
"Well, then," Matty said, running a hand through his chaotic hair, still not cut, the ends curling. "How about we go find you some pickles? Maybe, I don't know, some ice cream to go with them."
She yanked him toward her, pressing a hard kiss against his mouth. "Now you're speaking my language. You better watch yourself, Matty. If you don't stop seducing me, I might just be inclined to keep you around."
Pickles. Unbelievable.
Matty sat across the small table from Genna, watching as she gnawed on a pickle spear. Her fourth, as it was. She hadn't eaten anything else. An entire plate of food was going untouched because of goddamn pickles. They'd stopped at a small restaurant just inside of the Vegas city limits, both of them ordering cheeseburger platters, with Genna requesting 'an ass-ton of extra pickles'.
Much to her delight, they'd brought her a whole bowl of them.
"Do you like cucumbers?" he asked.
Her face scrunched up. "Gross."
"Pickles are just pickled cucumbers. You know that, right?"
"I'm aware," she said, pointing what was left of her pickle at him. "I don't even like pickles, but I started craving them."
"Pregnancy cravings."
"It's funny, because I was eating one the day I found out. It actually made me sick. Dante—" She cut off after saying her brother's name, silence taking over for a moment, before she continued. "He joked about me being pregnant. It never crossed my mind until then, but it probably should've. He realized his joke wasn't a joke, so he bought a test and made me take it. I was in shock, but he, well… he went to find you."
Matty knew the day she referred to. He'd riddled out the timeline, having not much else to do while on the road except dwell on what happened. It made sense, looking back. Something had set Dante off the night he showed up in Soho looking for a fight.
It was the night he'd taken Enzo's life.
It was meant to be me instead.
"I asked him why," Matty said. "Your brother, you know… he was who he was, but I never took him to be malicious. So I wanted to know why he'd come after us."
"What did he say?"
"He said I gave him no choice, that because of me you were as good as dead."
Genna took a
bite and muttered, "He so overreacted."
"I don't know," Matty said. "I don't know if there's such a thing. He just… reacted."
She damn near dropped her pickle. "Did you just...? No, seriously, did you just defend him?"
Matty stared at her. Huh, guess I did. "I just think about your father and what he would've done. You being pregnant would've set him off, regardless. He coddled you; we all knew it. Nobody touched his little girl. Add in that it was me that did it, someone he already hated, and he would've lost his fucking mind."
"My father wouldn't have killed me."
"Maybe not, but he would've killed me, Genna, and there's no way he would've accepted this baby. It's impossible. The hate runs too deep. It's a part of you, yeah, but all he would see is the part that's me."
"He wouldn't hurt a baby," she said. "Children are innocent."
The moment she said that, her expression shifted, reality hitting her. Even she didn't believe her words. History had taught them that when it came to their fathers, innocence was irrelevant.
"I was innocent once," Matty said. "You were, too. So were Joey, and Dante, and even Enzo. None of us started out as monsters. I don't know that any of us even became them. But it didn't stop people from seeing us that way. So maybe your father would've kept you breathing, but breathing doesn't always mean living. Dante was right—you were as good as dead."
Genna tossed the rest of her pickle down on her plate before pushing it away. "Never in a million years did I think I would hear you defend a Galante."
"Don't get used to it," Matty said. "In fact, I'm wishing I could take it back."
"Whatever," she said, smiling. "It's burned in my brain. You'll never live it down. You're practically aligned with the enemy now."
"Practically? I was aligned with the enemy the moment I felt what it was like to be inside of you. There was no coming back from that."
"What did it feel like?"
"What?"
"Being inside of me."
Her voice was dead serious, but the twinkle in her eye told Matty she was teasing him.
"You really want me to describe it?"
"Yep."
He considered that. What did being inside of her feel like? Everything. It was Heaven. It was Hell. It was the most beautiful torture he'd ever felt. "Let me put it in words you'll understand."
"I'm listening."
"It's chocolate cake with strawberry icing, covered in chocolate sprinkles, eaten straight out of the pan."
Her eyes widened. "Damn."
"Anyway…" Matty motioned for the waitress to bring the check, even though neither of them had eaten much. "The night is young. What do you want to get into?"
"What are my options?"
"We could see a show, maybe. There are musicals and concerts—"
"And strippers," Genna chimed in. "Aren't those Chippendales guys in Vegas? You know, the dudes with the little G-string banana hammock looking thingies with the black bowties?"
Matty ignored that. "And magicians and comedians and who knows what else. There's gambling—"
"And prostitution."
"And nightclubs where we could go dancing, I guess, if we want to be around a bunch of drunk people when we're sober."
"I think that describes the entirety of Vegas, but go on."
"There are shooting ranges and roller coasters and racecar tracks—"
"And wedding chapels."
"And…" That stalled him. "And wedding chapels."
"They've even got those drive-thru ones," Genna said. "You could make an honest woman out of me without even getting out of the car."
Matty laughed. "What comes after that? Road-head for the honeymoon?"
"You wish," she said, balling up a napkin and smacking him square in the chest with it. "It'll be a cold day in Hell before I suck a dick in a stolen Honda."
The waitress approached, damn near tripping over her own feet when she heard Genna. Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing, as she glanced between them. "I, uh… I'll just take this when you're ready," she muttered, dropping the check on the table before scurrying off.
Matty shook his head, picking up the check, when Genna muttered, "Oh fuck, I did that."
He pulled out his wallet, grabbing a few bills to pay. "Traumatized the waitress? Yeah, you did."
"No, I sucked a dick in a stolen Honda," she said just as the waitress again approached. The woman took the money, dashing away, as Genna rolled her eyes. "You remember when we met at the courthouse? I said I was there for stealing that car?"
"I remember," Matty said. "I'm guessing it was a Honda?"
"An Accord," she said. "Wow. I can't believe I actually sucked a dick in a stolen Honda."
An exasperated sigh echoed around them as the waitress tossed Matty's change down on the table before stalking off. Genna glared at the woman's back.
"Well, then," Matty said, leaving his change on the table. It was more than he'd usually tip, but he figured the waitress deserved it this time. "Guess it's a cold day in Hell, Princess."
"Yeah, well, it's not happening ever again," she said, pointing at him. "Don't go thinking I'm some cheap floozy just because I let you fuck me on a pool table that first night."
"I wouldn't dream of thinking that about you. No baby mama of mine will ever be a cheap floozy."
"Ugh, don't call me that." She grimaced. "This isn't an episode of Maury we're living. If you cheat on me and deny my baby, I'm not going to give you some DNA test on national television. I'll cut your dick off and make you suck it in a stolen Honda. You got that?"
"Jesus Christ," someone muttered nearby.
Matty glanced to the next table over, watching the waitress shake her head as she delivered a few plates. Leave it to Genna to shock a woman who works in Vegas, a woman who has probably seen and heard everything. He almost felt bad for her. It was hard to tell sometimes with Genna whether or not she was being serious. There was still a bitter coldness to her exterior, the rigid façade that had earned her the Ice Princess nickname. It wasn't really her, of course. The Genna that Matty knew was warm and loving.
Loving enough to see past his name, to judge him for him, knowing it was a risk. The fact that he was a Barsanti should've scared her away, but she gave him a chance. She was one of a kind. There was nobody else like her—nobody as brave, and as beautiful, and as downright crazy as Genevieve Galante.
"Got it," he said, turning back to Genna. "How do you feel about being called a Barsanti?"
"I don't see how that's better."
"It's probably not," he admitted, "but you wouldn't be my baby mama anymore… you'd be my wife."
"What?"
"Like you said, there are a lot of wedding chapels in Vegas. I'm sure one can squeeze us in."
She stared at him, her expression blank.
Matty wasn't sure what that meant.
"Are you joking?" she asked finally.
"No," he said. "I mean it."
"You want to get married."
"Yes."
She stared at him a bit longer, long enough for him to question if maybe he'd screwed up by suggesting it. He got that it wasn't ideal, and she deserved more than a quickie wedding in Vegas that wouldn't even be legal, considering they couldn't use their real names, but it would still count where it mattered. They'd know, even if nobody else would.
"I'll marry you," she said quietly, "under one condition."
"Anything," he swore.
Genna leaned closer to the table, her voice dead serious as she said, "There can be no goddamn Elvis Presley in the building."
A smile slowly formed on Matty's lips as he mirrored her, leaning her direction. "Deal."
Two hours later, as the sun set over Vegas, Matty and Genna found themselves in a little chapel on Las Vegas Boulevard, one that didn't even have a name. A blue sign stood out front of the old stone building, 'wedding chapel' shining bright in lights. A few white pews lined the sides of the aisle, soft lighting bathing everything in gold. The
room was vacant except for them and the minister, the lady who worked the front desk stepping in as a witness. It hadn't taken long to secure a marriage license, a hundred bucks and a form filled with lifetimes of lies that nobody questioned. Another two hundred dollars later, there they were, a wedding in progress. All that remained were the vows.
Matty took her right hand, holding it as he gazed at Genna beside him in a little black dress she'd taken from a stranger's closet. She was nervous. He could tell. Her left hand clutched a tiny rose bouquet so tightly her knuckles glowed. He hadn't spoken a single word yet but tears already brimmed her eyes.
"We've been through a lot," he said, not sure where to start, but it was enough to send the tears streaming down her cheeks. "More than most people go through in a lifetime. The world tried to tear us apart in the worst ways, but we didn't let it, and I know I'll never let it, because you are my world now. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. I'd follow you to the end of the Earth and back again, if I had to, if you needed me to. I wouldn't hesitate. I love you."
Genna tried to wipe away her tears with her arm, still clinging to the bouquet. Matty reached over, brushing them off her cheeks, as the minister motioned for her turn.
"I love you, too," she said, staring at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times, like the words were caught inside of her. Damn near a minute of silence passed before her face contorted and she let out a cry loud enough to startle their makeshift witness. "Ugh, that's all I've got!"
"Ah, come on, that was weak," Matty said playfully. "I know you've got something else in you."
"Matteo," she whispered. "Kind of rhymes with potato."
Matty laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. "Good enough for me."
"Fucking hormones," she whined into his chest. "Yours was perfect and mine's over here all jumbled in my brain and I don't know what to say except I love you, I really do… I love you more than chocolate cake with strawberry icing."
"With chocolate sprinkles?"
"Don't push it."
He kissed the top of her head before turning to the minister. "What's next?"
The old man smiled. "Rings."
Matty frowned. "Got none of those yet."
"Then I suppose that's it," the man said. "By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Sweetest Sorrow Page 13
