by Chelle Bliss
“The entire cast will be there too,” Michelle tells her, selling her on a trip to California.
“We’ll be there.” Tilly nods before I have a chance to decline the informal invitation.
“Baby.” I wrap my arm around my wife’s waist, pulling her flush against me. “We’re being called to the dance floor.”
Maybe I lied. I am a little jealous, after all. I don’t like the way this guy has my girl all gaga over him, even if it’s more about his fictional, on-screen persona than the man himself.
“It was nice to meet you,” Tilly says over her shoulder as I move her toward the dance floor.
I lean over as I pass Michelle and whisper, “It’s nice to see you happy.”
She smiles, waving at us. “We’ll see you in California,” she calls out.
“Can you believe that?”
“What?” I ask my wife, guiding her through the sea of people.
“We have a celebrity at our wedding.” She glances up at me, expecting me to be overly excited.
I put on my best game face. “Very exciting,” I lie. “You know what’s even more exciting than that?”
She turns to face me as we come to a stop in the center of the dance floor. “What?”
I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tightly. “You’re Mrs. Angelo Gallo.”
I’m such a lucky son of a bitch. Not only have I had one great love in my life, but now I have a second even deeper one. Someone who lights my fire and softens me in all the right ways, reminding me of all the good in the world.
For too long, I dwelled on the bad shit. Focused on the way I was wronged by God. Now, my life is full. The laughter has returned to my house and my heart. The darkness that seemed to follow me has been replaced by light and joy. Tilly did that.
If we both hadn’t been so broken, we might have never found each other. Where would I be if she hadn’t opened her cupcake shop next to the bar? Would our paths have crossed otherwise? Probably not. Life has a funny way of working itself out.
“I am.” She smiles and snakes her arms around my neck, toying with the ends of my hair.
“You know the only thing that could be better than this?”
“What?”
I slide my hand around to her stomach. “To see your belly full with our baby inside.”
Her eyes widen, bigger than when she met Enrique. “What?”
“I want another baby, Tilly. I want our baby.”
Having a piece of Marissa with me always has been my saving grace. I love my kids more than anything in the world, and there’s nothing that would give me greater joy than having a small piece of Tilly and me as a legacy when we’re no longer here.”
“Can we practice for a while?” she asks, brushing her lips against mine.
“We can practice all you want, baby.” I chuckle softly against her mouth.
“Please welcome to the dance floor, Mr. and Mrs. Angelo Gallo,” the announcer says, and the wedding guests clap loudly, followed by a few people hollering through the room.
I tighten my hold on my wife, swaying to our song and knowing life can’t get much better than this.
11
Tilly
I’m completely exhausted, and the overwhelmed feeling I had earlier is gone. The party hasn’t stopped. The dance floor is still filled, and the drinks are still flowing.
Leo, Daphne, Angelo, and I are gathered around a table, having one last toast. They insisted on our joining them and taking a break, which I’m thankful for because my feet are straight up killing me.
“We know you two planned on spending your first night together as husband and wife at home with the kids,” Daphne says as Leo pours four glasses of champagne. “But that’s no way to start a marriage.”
“That is our life,” Angelo tells her as he hands me one of the champagne flutes. “We’re married with kids.”
Daphne rolls her eyes. “Tonight is not about the kids. Tonight is about you two and no one else. Not even my niece and nephew.” Angelo opens his mouth to say something, but she holds up her hand and stops him. “Leo and I have a present for you.”
“We told you no presents,” Angelo says quickly.
Leo reaches into his pocket, takes out an envelope, and slides it in front of us. “We booked the two of you the Presidential Suite for the evening. No kids. Only privacy.”
“No kids?” Angelo raises an eyebrow.
“They’re going home with Lucio and Delilah for the night.” Daphne smirks. “You two are going to use that suite, and use it wisely, without any interruptions.”
“I’ve arranged for late checkout, so there’s no need to rush out of there in the morning either.” Leo slides his arm across Daphne’s chair and leans back. “Everything’s been taken care of, and we couldn’t think of anything better to get you than time alone.”
I could leap into Leo’s arms and pepper his handsome face with kisses. There’s no better gift anyone can give us than a little time alone. After tonight, with so many people around us, I could use a little one-on-one time with my husband.
“The car’s outside waiting to take you to the hotel,” Daphne says.
“Now? But what about the guests?” Angelo asks, looking around the reception, which doesn’t seem to be losing any steam.
“They won’t even notice. Now, a small toast to the happy couple.” Daphne raises her flute. “May you both find happiness and peace, live long, love hard, and never forget the feeling you have tonight.”
My vision blurs with her words. “You’re too sweet, Daphne.”
“I’ll deny it.” She laughs softly before raising her glass. “I’m so happy to have another sister and brother.” She pauses and looks to her brother. “I couldn’t be happier for you than I am right now.”
“To finding our happily ever afters.” I lift my glass and touch it to Leo’s, then Daphne’s, and finally my husband’s.
“Now, get out of here,” she says after taking a sip of the cold, crisp champagne. “Go enjoy yourselves tonight.”
Within minutes, Angelo and I are out the door, in the back of the waiting car, and headed to the swanky hotel Leo owns. It’s a short ride, and we spend most of the time silent, holding hands and stealing glances at each other in the muted darkness.
“I hope you’re not too tired. The last thing I want to do tonight is sleep.” The door to our suite is barely closed when Angelo sweeps me into his arms and stalks toward the bedroom.
I snake my arms around my husband’s neck, staring up at his handsome face. “Not tired at all,” I lie because there’s nothing I want more than to ravish this man with no little ears to hear things they shouldn’t.
His lips are on mine in an instant. There’s no time to take in the grandeur of the suite or much of anything except my husband and the need I feel for him and have felt since I saw him standing at the altar.
He places my feet back on the floor, our mouths still fused, as his hands go to work at my dress. Thankfully, I picked something sensible and not overly complicated with hundreds of little silk buttons. The soft material slides down my body, pooling near my feet within seconds.
My fingers are at his zipper as he makes quick work of his shirt and tie, dropping them to the floor near my dress.
I’m in his arms, his mouth against mine, tongue sliding between my lips as he moves us toward the bed.
“I love you,” I whisper into his mouth as we fall backward onto the mattress.
He whispers my words back to me as he settles between my legs. His mouth slides from my mouth to my jaw and down my neck, and my hands find his arms and hold on tight.
“I want to take it slow, baby, but I don’t think I can,” he murmurs against my skin, sending goose bumps scattering everywhere.
“Don’t.” I lock my ankles around his ass. “Don’t go slow or be gentle. Fuck me.”
He gazes up my skin at me, and his eyes flash. “You know how your dirty mouth does crazy shit to me.”
I tangl
e my fingers in his soft hair. “Less talking, more fucking.” I smirk, loving when my husband has that wild look in his eyes.
He closes his lips around my nipple, causing my back to arch and a moan to slip from my lips. For once, I don’t have to worry about the kids hearing, and for that, I’m thankful.
Angelo’s hand moves between my legs, and his fingers are inside me seconds later, thrusting deep and hitting the right spot. “You’re so perfect,” he says as my body starts to tighten underneath him. “You’re mine, sweetheart, totally mine.”
Before my orgasm bubbles to the surface, his fingers are gone and he’s climbing up my body and settling between my legs again. He stares down at me as I gasp for air, looking up at the man I love. “I’m yours,” I repeat.
Our eyes are locked as his cock inches inside me so slowly. I’m holding on to him, begging for more. More speed. More depth. More of everything. It doesn’t take long for my body to tense again, each thrust pushing me closer to the orgasm my body so badly craves.
My toes curl and my fingernails bite into his skin as the wave of pleasure crashes over me. My vision blurs, and my breathing ceases, but Angelo doesn’t stop, chasing his own ecstasy.
The first time is rushed and frantic, but the rest of the night is spent exploring each other’s bodies slowly. I don’t know how many times I came or even what time we fell asleep. The one thing I know is that it was the perfect end to our wedding day.
When we arrive the next afternoon, Lucio’s in the kitchen, busying himself with a dish of something I can’t quite make out. “Someone looks relaxed and satisfied,” he teases before Angelo closes the front door.
“It’s amazing what a night without kids can do for you,” Angelo tells him as he slides his hand down the swell of my ass.
My body’s buzzing, still high on the orgasms and quite a lot of them in the last twelve hours. I am still exhausted, but in the best possible way.
“Next week, you’re paying me back and taking the kids off our hands. I need a night alone with my hot mama.”
“Anything you want,” I say without hesitation. “That’s what family’s for.”
I love saying that. I have a giant horde of people who’ll always have my back, and I’ll have theirs. We’ve worked out a family plan where we each watch one another’s kids, so the other couple can have a night alone. It’s so foreign to me.
Not just the kid swapping, but kids in general. I now have kids. I didn’t birth them, but I’m just as responsible for their well-being. I never even had a niece or nephew to practice with before destiny threw me into the path of Angelo and his two little cuties.
“Do you need help?” I ask Lucio when I see him struggling with what I think is spinach dip.
“Nope. I’m going to make this my bitch if it’s the last thing I do.”
“He got his cooking skills from Ma,” Angelo tells me, which is clearly evident by the way he’s mashing the shit out of all the ingredients.
I peer up at Angelo with a horrified look. Cooking is my thing, and normally, I can sit back and let someone else take the wheel, but this is too much.
“Take him outside,” I tell my husband.
Oh my God. I have a husband and kids to go along with that giant family. Never in a million years did I think I’d have anyone but myself and Roger. And that man is in no hurry to settle down, claiming there are no eligible bachelors in Chicago.
Angelo gives me a quick nod before stalking toward Lucio. I follow behind, checking out Angelo’s ass as he walks. It’s damn fine, too. I can’t seem to keep my hands off that ass either, even when it’s not entirely appropriate.
The look on Angelo’s face as he glances down at the clear bowl, taking in the spinach dip that now looks like green slime, is priceless. “Jesus, man. What in the hell did you do to that?”
Lucio lifts his hands in the air. “What’s wrong with it?”
I take this as my cue to snatch the spatula out of his hand. “Let me finish this. It looks great. Totally delicious.” I’m totally lying.
I’m pretty sure Lucio knows it too by the way he’s looking at me with those beautiful narrowed eyes. “It’s your big day,” he argues.
I pull my hand back when he tries to take the spatula from me because there’s no way we can serve this. “My big day was yesterday. Now, we’re in family cookout mode. Why don’t you boys go check to see if anyone needs drinks?”
“Ah, something I’m good at.” Lucio gives me a smile because I know the last thing he wants to be doing is making spinach dip.
I watch as Lucio and Angelo walk outside and are instantly swarmed by the relatives from Tampa. My cheeks start to ache from the stupid smile I can’t seem to wipe off my face lately.
I’m so lost in thought and staring at my husband’s ass, I don’t hear the patio door open and close.
“We’re here to help,” Betty says.
I jump, and the bowl slips from my hands, landing on the floor and spilling out by the green slime Lucio made.
“Shit,” I mutter, staring down at it as it covers the wood floor.
Betty and Maria stare down at the mess with me.
“What the hell is that?” Maria asks. “It looks like baby shit.”
I glance up and burst into laughter because she isn’t wrong. “Lucio made spinach dip.”
Maria’s eyebrows shoot up. “Clearly he gets his cooking skills from you, Betty.”
My laughter dies because no one ever likes to talk bad about Betty’s cooking. At least, not to her face. And if I’m being totally honest, it’s awful. There are some things she’s okay at making, but ninety percent of her meals are almost inedible, though whiskey helps it slide down easier.
Betty crosses her arms as she stares at her sister-in-law. “You’re saying I’m a horrible cook?”
I’m not sure if I should start backing up because Betty has been known to have a temper. She’s like the little firecracker that packs the most powerful punch. She’s had to be strong. Raising three rowdy boys isn’t for the faint of heart.
“You’re a shit cook,” Maria says and shakes her head. “We both know Tino isn’t with you because you could make a mean sauce.”
Betty smirks. “They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but with Tino, it’s really his dick. The man’s obsessed with it.”
I’m still holding the spatula, bowl near my feet, and spinach dip everywhere, and I’m feeling kind of awkward listening to my mother-in-law and her sister-in-law talking about cock and sauce.
“Lucky for you,” Maria says as she grabs a wad of paper towels off the counter and hands them to Betty. “Clean this up, and I’ll get busy making new dip.”
They’re talking like I’m not even here, which is odd and something I’m not used to. I’m always the cook, except on Sunday. That’s Betty’s day to make us all a “home-cooked” meal because she feels that’s her job as a mother. Sometimes I wonder if it’s payback for her kids’ years of bullshit behavior as teenagers.
“I can do it.” I have my leg in the air, about to head toward the fridge, when Maria grabs my shoulder.
“You relax. Sit down and talk a bit.” Maria ticks her chin toward the stool on the other side of the island. “Let me do this, please.”
Normally, I’d argue, but the one thing I’ve learned is that you’ll almost never win an argument with a Gallo. I’m pretty sure Maria is no different, so I do what any reasonable woman would; I sit and listen.
Moments later, the other women in the family join us. The kitchen suddenly becomes crowded, and I’m no longer sitting alone watching Maria, I am surrounded by cousins.
Suzy, Joe’s wife, with her effortless beauty, striking blond hair, and happy demeanor, sits on my left side, chin in her palm, watching her children through the window.
Izzy is the only Gallo sister on that side, and from the way she carries herself, I’m guessing she’s the boss. She sips her whiskey and swishes the ice cubes around the glass as she watches
her ma and chitchats with Mia and Max.
Gigi walked in with them but collapsed on the couch just a few feet away with headphones in her ears, so the interaction was nonexistent.
“It’s nice to have everyone back together,” Izzy says between sips. “I wish you’d all move to Florida, Aunt Betty.”
Betty leans on the counter next to Maria and stares across at us. “Sweetheart, look at my skin. I’m almost translucent. I could never tolerate the Florida sun. I was born to be in darkness.”
“Kind of like your soul,” Fran says as she walks into the kitchen.
Fran is Santino and Sal’s sister. She’s just as mouthy as Betty and Maria. There’s no doubting that, for as strong as the men are in this family, they like their women even stronger.
Betty gives Fran the middle finger. “I’ve missed your sarcasm and wit. That badass biker of yours hasn’t tamed that mouth.”
“He loves my mouth.” Fran smirks.
Not only do I feel ill, I can tell the ladies around me do too. They’re squirming in their seats just as much as I am.
Izzy gags and holds up a hand because her other one is busy holding the glass of whiskey she’s nursing. “Stop. It’s too much. There are young ears and impressionable minds around.”
I look around the room, but I see no one I’d consider impressionable besides maybe Gigi.
Izzy motions toward her sister-in-law. “Suzy can’t handle this type of talk. You know how innocent she is.”
“That’s so laughable,” Gigi says out of the clear blue.
Izzy spins around on her stool to face her niece. “You didn’t know your mother back in the day, kid. She was as innocent as they come.”
“Not anymore. She’s awfully bad sometimes because Dad spanks her a lot. Like a lot, a lot.”
Everyone in the room turns to look at the beautiful girl stretched out on the couch like she didn’t say anything. Everyone except Suzy. She’s beet red with her mouth hanging open and hasn’t moved an inch.
“Giovanna,” Maria warns, and the look she gives her granddaughter is scary as hell.
