by Tami Lund
“Just ibuprofen. Which hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“I’ll make sure I have plenty stocked at home. That is… what’s your plan?”
“What do you mean?”
He waved as if to encompass her entire body. “I’m sure you’re more than ready to get the hell out of here.”
“I am. I’m just waiting for the discharge nurse.”
“I meant here. Detroit. Away from me.”
“Why would I be in a hurry to get away from you?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
She closed her eyes. “Is this one of those instances where you’re deliberately trying to pick a fight with me?”
“What? No.”
“So then you seriously think I want to leave you?”
“Don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Do you want to know what I do want?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I want to get out of this hospital and I want to hug Julia and I want to go back to your house and I want to take a shower and I want to lay in bed and I want you to wait on me hand and foot.” She nodded succinctly. “There’s probably more, but that’s a good start.”
He chuckled. “You expect me to wait on you hand and foot?”
She cracked one eyelid to give him a solid glare. “I didn’t say expect. I said that’s what I want.”
He sat on the bed and slipped his arm behind her back, lifting her and positioning her in his lap. “Want to know what I want?”
“Maybe.”
“I want whatever you want.”
“Oh, I like that answer.”
“There is one other thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to know if you prefer sophisticated men like Tigran Grigoryan. Because, honestly, I’ll never be that person.”
Hillary’s eyes popped open. “Is he okay?”
“Fine.” His tone was clipped.
Hillary bit the inside of her cheek to try to keep from smiling at his obvious annoyance.
“He’s expected to make a full recovery. The nurses are all currently swooning over him, trying to figure out how to convince him to stay longer than necessary.” He scowled.
“He doesn’t make me swoon, Marco.”
He arched one brow. “Really?”
Hillary laughed. “There’s only one guy in my life who can do that.”
“Who’s that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even pretend you don’t have self-confidence for days.”
“Maybe I just get off on hearing you say it.”
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Probably at least part of the reason you love me so much.”
“You’re right.”
“Really?”
“That I love you? Yes.”
“Good. It just so happens I love you too.” He kissed the top of her head.
She rested her cheek against his shirt. “This is going to be an interesting ride.”
***
The next day, they were allowed to go into the restaurant to assess the damage. Everything was covered with ash and gray foam, giving the illusion of winter. Inside.
“My parents met in the winter,” Marco said, almost absently, but Hillary heard the catch in his voice. Talking about his loss would be difficult, but she was glad he was making the effort.
“The fire inspector said it’s still sound structurally, if you want to rebuild,” Hillary said.
Marco glanced down at Julia, who stood between them, holding their hands. “What do you want to do, Peanut?”
“That depends. Are we staying here or moving to where Hillary and Luca and Nina live?”
Hillary’s gaze flew to Marco’s. Yes, they’d professed their love yesterday; yes, there was an assumption that they would figure out how to be together long-term, but Hillary was certain neither of them had gone so far as to wonder where they might live.
At least, she hadn’t.
Marco released Julia’s hand and wandered back to the kitchen. Hillary and Julia followed. He bent over a cupboard under the counter and pulled out what looked like a boom box straight out of the ’80s.
He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips, and then he pressed a button. “Take Me With U” by Prince blared out of the speakers. Marco’s smile widened.
“The batteries still work,” he said.
“Are you taking this as a sign?” Hillary asked. A sign that he should stay, rebuild? It made sense.
The threat was gone. Davit had been carted off to federal prison. Marco had contacted Shannon on Jo’s behalf, and she’d agreed to testify at his trial. She had been privy to most if not all of his nefarious plans. She quite literally knew where all the bodies were buried. Her testimony alone would probably lock him up for life.
That was before Tigran threw in the proof that their father had been poisoned and Davit had been the one to do it. And then there was the Molotov cocktail that had been tossed into the restaurant. Two eyewitnesses had already come forth, stating they saw a man who fit Davit’s description throw it at the restaurant and then shoot at the first person—Tigran—who tried to escape the fire.
Tigran told Jo about the handwritten note he’d found at Davit’s house, and Jo speculated that Davit had planned to lure Tigran to the restaurant so he could kill both his brother and Marco. That part was still only a theory, but Hillary doubted they would even need it when it came down to sentencing.
Davit was going to rot in prison for the rest of his life.
Which meant Hillary and Marco could stay in Detroit, without fear. They could rebuild the restaurant, a business that had been in Marco’s family for three generations. Hillary imagined it would be hard to walk away from something with such a potent legacy.
On the other hand, this meant she would be walking away from her life. Her career. Her family. The Karneys liked to do family gatherings—often. Her grandmother would not be thrilled if she moved all the way to Michigan.
Was she seriously considering this? Was this what she wanted?
Julia danced her way over to Marco, using some impressive moves for a twelve-year-old who had not grown up listening to this music. They clasped hands and belted out the lyrics together, laughing.
Wait, of course she’d grown up listening to this music. Julia spent as much time in this restaurant as Marco had as a youth. And Luigi’s boom box, his Purple Rain soundtrack, had been there every step of the way.
The police officer who had allowed them into the building opened the back door and waved to draw their attention. Marco stopped the music.
“Someone out here to see you,” the cop said. Patricia stepped into the kitchen, hesitant, gingerly.
Hillary hurried to Marco’s side and slipped her hand into his, squeezing, offering her support as he stood there, stone-faced.
“Hi, Aunt Patricia,” Julia said, waving and smiling.
“Hi, sweetie,” the woman replied with a smile of her own.
Hillary recalled the cookies Patricia had given Julia at school the other day. Was that the only time, or had she been secretly getting to know her niece without anyone being the wiser?
Patricia smoothed her hands down her thighs as she took in the kitchen. “This is where he was happiest,” she murmured, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Well, besides any time he was with her. Aida.”
When Patricia glanced over at them, her eyes were flooded with tears. She swiped at the ones that escaped and rolled down her cheeks. “I wish I had realized that sooner. I lost so much time with him. My only sibling.”
She flapped her hand at Marco and Julia. “That bond, the bond between siblings; it’s truly special. That’s the one person you grew up with for your whole life. Well, besides your parents, of course. Pietro was older, so I don’t know life without him. Until now.”
She sniffled, and Hillary couldn’t take it anymore. She dug through her purse, found a small p
acket of tissues, and offered them to the woman.
“Thank you,” Patricia said, blotting her face and blowing her nose.
“I read their will,” Marco said. Hillary threw him a questioning look. He glanced down at her. “Last night, after you fell asleep. I… it was time to deal with my own demons.”
He cleared his throat. “They wanted me to raise Julia.”
Patricia nodded. “I assumed.”
Hillary held her breath, but Patricia did not say anything more.
“Does this mean…?” Marco started.
“That I’m not going to fight for custody? Yes. But I would like to be a part of her life. And yours. I don’t want to live with any more regrets. Family is too important.”
Hillary didn’t even know the woman and she wanted to hug her. This was such a burden off Marco’s shoulders.
“There’s a note,” Marco said. “In a sealed envelope. With your name on it.”
“Really?” Patricia asked, hope blooming in her voice.
He nodded. “You should come by the house so I can give it to you. I’ll make dinner. If you want.”
Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks. “That would be lovely. And one of these days, maybe I can convince my mother, your grandmother, to join us.”
“I’d like that,” Marco said, and now Hillary wanted to hug him. Although to be fair, she always felt that urge, no matter what.
Marco cleared this throat and gave Hillary a swift glance. “You should know…we’re considering moving. I’m not even sure where, but I think it’s pretty far away.”
Patricia’s gaze swept over the room again as she nodded. “I understand. I was considering moving too for a bit.”
“No, not because of this,” Marco explained. “It’s where Hillary lives, where her family is. We may be moving there.”
Patricia frowned. “You don’t know where your fiancée is from?”
“It’s a long story,” Marco said. “Would probably take seven books to get through it all.”
“We’re not,” Hillary announced, giving Marco a shy glance. “We’re staying.”
“We are?” he asked, staring at her.
She nodded. “We are. We’ll rebuild. This is your legacy. Yours and Julia’s. And…our children’s.”
“Are you serious?” Marco asked.
She nodded again and sniffled. She may have to ask for the tissues back from Patricia.
“Oh,” Marco said, patting the front pockets of his jeans. “There probably won’t be any better time than now.”
He slipped something out of his pocket and dropped to one knee in front of her.
Julia squealed and clapped her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Hillary stared down at him, her eyes probably the size of dinner plates. “What are you doing?”
“Proposing,” he said, and then he lifted his hand, a brilliant diamond ring held between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Where did you get that?” It was absolutely gorgeous. A princess cut solitaire, with a twisted band and tiny diamonds running all the way around it.
“I found it in my mom’s jewelry box last night. To be honest, this was the reason I went into their room. The paperwork was kind of secondary. Dad gave this to her on their twentieth wedding anniversary, but she refused to wear it on her ring finger. She said the original ring he gave her when they got married held too much emotional value for her to ever consider upgrading. So she wore this one on her other hand sometimes, for special occasions. I didn’t think she had it on the day they died, and I was right.”
He lifted the ring higher. “I want you to have it. I want this to be your wedding ring. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t care if it’s here or Sleepyville or Timbuktu. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”
She was definitely going to need one of those tissues. Hillary blinked rapidly and raised her hand, her fingers spread wide.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded through her tears.
“I’m going to need you to say it, Hill.”
A half sob, half laugh burst from her mouth as she dropped to her knees on the still-damp floor and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes. I absolutely want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you, Marco.”
He sat down and pulled her into his lap and slipped the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
Definitely a sign.
And then they were kissing, and Julia was making gagging noises, and Patricia said, “I thought you were already engaged?”
This life they were going to carve together was going to be perfect.
For them.
EPILOGUE
The last guest had been escorted out the door and poured into an Uber. Hillary was leaning so heavily on his arm, Marco was afraid she was half sleep already.
“We’re not done yet, honey,” he murmured, kissing her hair. He could taste the hairspray the stylist had used liberally to keep the red strands in place through the wedding ceremony and reception and humidity on a day that had started with rain but then turned into a gorgeous, sunny, summer eve.
He’d wanted to do the wedding in Sleepyville, with her family, but she’d insisted they do it here. This was their home now, she told him.
Christ, he loved this woman.
“Trust me, I’ve been keeping a reserve of energy stored away for when we’re finally alone,” she said with a wink.
He really loved this woman.
“Okay, but just a little bit longer, I promise.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone is gone. Let the caterers finish up everything else. Let’s go home so we can try out this new position I read about in that Kama Sutra book Nina so kindly sent me.”
Chuckling, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing it, but I love you.”
She smiled up at him. “I’ll never get sick of hearing that.”
The door swung open, and Jo stepped through. She grinned when she saw them. “I left my shawl here. I’ll grab it and be out of your hair in a sec.” She hurried toward the dining room, the sound of her heels muted on the durable carpet.
“Oh, hey!”
Marco and Hillary both turned when Jo called out.
“I have another young girl I’d like you to talk to, Hill. I already cleared it with my boss. She’s—”
For nearly a year now, Hillary had been working with Jo’s team, using her psych degree—and personal experience—to be a victim’s advocate. She was so happy, Marco had been surprised when, after the renovations were complete, she cut her hours so she could help out at the restaurant too. But she’d insisted she loved both jobs and saw no reason why she couldn’t balance the two—and help take care of Julia as well.
His newly minted wife was amazing. But still—even Hillary deserved a break.
“Jo,” he interrupted, “it’s our wedding night.”
She lifted her hand. “Right, sorry. I’ll text you, Hill.”
“After our honeymoon,” Marco added.
“Of course,” Jo said with a firm nod. She lifted a silky black shawl from where it was draped over the back of a chair and then pointed at the restaurant’s main entrance. “I’m going to go out that way, okay?”
“Bye, Jo.” Marco used his arm around Hillary’s shoulders to guide her back toward the kitchen.
The room was dark, as he’d planned. Hillary frowned. “Why are all the lights out? Where’s the catering staff?”
She pushed through the swinging doors with Marco on her heel, and then she came to a stuttering halt as bright light filled the room and somebody—several somebodies—shouted “Surprise!”
The entire exiled crew, as Marco liked to call them, along with a few extra Karneys were there.
Samuele and Lola, who went by different names now. Hillary and Marco had met Samuele only once, and they’d never met Lola before, but Samuele had play
ed an integral role in getting Nina, Luca, and Hillary out of town three years ago.
Antonio and Phoebe, Nina’s aunt and uncle and their two kids stood in a cluster, all grinning from ear to ear and waving manically.
Hillary’s dad, RJ, and Nina’s mom, Margot, were there with Hillary’s younger brother.
Even Hillary’s mom was there, with a good-looking guy Marco had never met before. When Hillary rushed up to give her mom a hug, Marco heard the woman say that she thought this might be the one. Hillary pulled away, and her eyes were damp.
Nina and Luca were there, of course, despite Nina being pretty far along in her pregnancy. Marco had been surprised when Hillary had decided to have the wedding here, because he’d assumed she’d want Nina as her maid of honor and it would be too risky for Nina to stand up in a wedding in Detroit.
Instead, Hillary had opted to ask Julia to be her maid of honor, which had thrilled his sister to no end, and the plan had been to go to Sleepyville next month and throw a big party with all of Hillary’s family. They figured it would coincide with the birth of Nina’s baby, so they’d be able to meet their first niece at the same time.
After much hugging and squealing, Hillary turned to him, her eyes shiny, her smile wide. “How in the world…?”
He cupped her cheek. “I wanted you to have as many of your family at your wedding as possible.”
“We talked about this and we decided—”
“I know, but I wanted to do something extra special for you. So while you were busy planning the reception that just ended, I was busy planning this little surprise.”
“This is by no means little,” Hillary said a scant moment before her grandmother pulled her into a hug and then held her at arm’s length while eyeing Marco from head to toe and clucking her tongue.
“You caught yourself a good one, Hillary,” the Karney matriarch said approvingly.
“I can’t believe this,” Hillary said, her gaze roving over the crowd. “You’ve completely outdone yourself.”
Marco had selfishly invited Leo and Shannon as well, since Leo was his best friend. The threat to Shannon was gone now, but they’d carved out a new life over in England and had no interest in returning to Detroit. Which was fine; it gave Marco and Hillary an excuse to visit a country they’d never been to before.
