“Oh, we love dogs,” I say. “You need not confine her on our account.”
Roman is strangely quiet as Bonsai comes out to greet us. She’s a spunky terrier mutt with soulful eyes and a friendly disposition. She takes a liking to my handbag and keeps trying to sniff inside of it.
“No, Bonsai!” Peter reprimands her.
“Oh, it’s fine. She must smell our dog,” I say to let them know it’s all right. “The name Bonsai fits her. She’s so cute.”
“Can we get you a drink or something?” his mother asks. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
There’s a flat screen on the stone wall above the fireplace which I continue to stare at in amazement. What do they do when it rains? We don’t see outdoor spaces like this as much over on the East Coast because of the weather.
“I’ll take anything with rum if you have it. I’ve stopped nursing recently and am excited to have cocktails any chance I get.”
“Peter, can you grab the drinks please?”
“Coming right up,” Peter says. “Rum for you, Roman?”
Roman isn’t paying attention to any part of this conversation because he is busy watching the dog sprint around the yard.
“Juice for him. He’s still taking pain medication for his injuries.”
“You want me to put her away, Roman?” Peter asks, probably wondering if he’s uncomfortable.
Roman bends down to scratch behind her ears, and Bonsai licks his hand.
“You told me I couldn’t have a dog,” Roman says in a sorrowful voice.
It’s so quiet now that I think I just heard a hawk call from a mile away. I desperately wanted to keep this visit light and breezy, but I should have known… Roman does nothing light and breezy.
“You said you were allergic,” he continues.
Frances places a plate of the grilled steak onto the large farmhouse-styled dining table then responds.
“Did I say that?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I probably didn’t want to admit that we couldn’t afford one,” she says apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Well, what were you spending all of Joseph’s money on then?”
We haven’t even had an appetizer and he’s going straight for the jugular. It rocked him to the core to discover that he had been lied to his entire life by his mother. She lied to him for years, telling him that Joseph was his “dead-beat” biological father when that wasn’t the truth at all. That kind of lie is not a simple thing to just get past. Your mother is the first woman you trust. If you learn that you can’t depend on the person who gave you life, then how do you trust anybody?
An uneasy look conforms on Peter’s face as he keeps his eyes trained on Roman. He is clearly very protective of Frances and doesn’t like the direction of the conversation. Hell, I don’t like it either, but this is a discussion that’s overdue, and I will stand by my man to make sure he gets what he needs.
“I thought I explained things to you in the letter,” she asserts.
“Yeah, but now I want you to tell me to my face.”
“Wait a minute now,” Peter interjects uncomfortably.
“No, Peter. It’s fine,” his mom says. “Roman, I spent the money to get high. I spent any money we had to get high. Is that the answer you were looking for?”
“And that’s why I couldn’t have a dog like this one?”
“Yes.”
“Or a hot dinner?”
“Roman.”
Okay, now I’m thinking I need to stop this conversation before it gets nasty.
“And now you have all of this?” He walks the length of their yard with his arms fully extended to show his point. “This shit is impressive, Ma.”
I can definitely see his point. Roman had a tough childhood where for the longest time he felt alone and as if he wasn’t wanted. Many of the boys in his old neighborhood might have had absentee fathers, but most of them at least had their mothers. He didn’t. She was a ghost of herself and not really present. So that’s probably a scar he will carry with him for a very long time, and personally, I believe Roman’s mother needs to accept her responsibility for her part in that. A letter probably wasn’t the best way to start.
“Real estate is not as expensive here as it is where you’re from. Don’t be fooled by what you see here. We’re not rolling in it. We’re just living life like regular folks,” Peter says, although I don’t think he’s really helping.
“Not the right answer,” Roman responds. “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
Frances washes her hands and wipes them with a tea towel. She walks over and stands in front of Roman, staring him square in the eyes. Two sets of identical obsidian pupils taking inventory of each other. Two people hurting. Two people struggling to work through a painful past.
“I said it in the letter, but maybe I should have waited until I could have said it in person. I see now that it wasn’t the right approach. I apologize to you, Roman. I was barely human when I was an addict. Drugs were all I cared about. I didn’t deserve you and I wasn’t fit to raise you, but by the miracle of God you came to be a good man just the same. And now, by his grace, you’re getting married to the mother of your son and the love of your life. I’m so grateful for the man you’ve become.”
She’s working the hell out of her apology, I’ll give her that. But she’s going to have to continually work at it, because Roman wants assurances that she has truly changed her life before he allows her into ours, and I’m in full agreement with that. I’m under no grand illusions that we can tie this up in a nice tidy bow by the end of tonight. This is just the beginning.
I take full responsibility for the crummy idea of us getting married in Vegas and having her attend as our special guest, but that was me not thinking things through. A wedding should be considered and planned seriously, and only for the benefit of the couple saying the vows. It’s not a tool for me to use to mend fences. It’s not just some random date on the calendar where I’m going to dress up in a pretty gown and party with my friends and family. It’s the day I will promise Roman in front of everyone who has ever meant anything to us that I will love him until our last dying breath.
That is some serious shit.
Which is why we reworked our bet. He agreed to fly here for a visit with Frances as long as I set a date for a wedding back home.
I did.
“I am sorry for the pain I must have caused you. You can’t imagine all the regrets I carry with me, son,” she continues. “There were days when I almost thought the damage I caused in my past was too much to bear, but that’s when this wonderful man here saw something worth saving in me and has been by my side ever since.”
“We can understand that sort of devotion. That’s exactly how I feel about your son. He’s been there for me at my lowest points but has only seen the best in me. Sometimes I have to pinch myself because of how lucky I was to have met him again.”
Roman walks over and embraces me from behind, kissing the curve at the back of my neck.
“Damn lucky,” he agrees.
He holds me close as he musters the courage to do what he never thought he could.
“I appreciate the apology, Ma.”
“Thanks for flying all the way out here to hear it.”
We all sit at the beautifully set table and dig into Frances’s yummy looking taco salad and steak.
“Did you say that you were lucky to have met again?” Peter asks through a mouth full of food. “How do you two know each other? Frances didn’t tell me much about how you met.”
The both of us glance at each other and smile as we reply simultaneously.
“It’s a long story.”
23
ROMAN
“Are you ready to get married?”
Never in a million years did I think I would ever hear that question.
Not from Joseph.
Not from anyone.
I just knew it
was my destiny to forever be popping bottles and sleeping with whatever flavor of the month was on the menu. Who knew that when I was tasked to protect the little nerd who moved into my house that over a year later I’d be putting on a suit, getting married, and Joseph would be my best man.
“Yeah, old man, I’ve been ready.”
“Are you still set on wearing those boots with your tuxedo?”
“You know I always dress down my suits.”
“On your wedding day?”
“Elizabeth likes it and that’s all that matters,” I reply as I straighten the tie I’m wearing with my custom-tailored black on black tux.
“Sentiment has made you soft.”
“Maybe, but it’s also made me happy as fuck.”
Joseph nods with acceptance. “Good.”
“Did you see Frances and Peter sitting out there?” I ask.
“Yeah, I saw them.” He sounds unimpressed.
“Did you speak to her?”
“I was cordial, although I don’t think her chubby little boyfriend likes me.”
“Did you apologize to her for your part in keeping us apart all this time?”
“Hell no,” he asserts. “I’d make the same choices all over again.”
I chuckle to myself. I didn’t really think he’d ever apologize. Sorry isn’t really a part of Joseph’s vocabulary.
“Knowing that Juliette would be furious with you?”
He grins like he knows some sort of secret. “Even then.”
Then he adds, “Your mother seems like she’s finally in a good place though, so I’m happy for her.”
“She looks clean but I think I’m going to wait before we talk about exchanging Christmas gifts and shit.”
“Understood. So, I suppose we need to have a talk before you walk down the aisle?”
“Don’t you think we’re a little past the whole birds and bees conversation?” I say mockingly as I check to make sure I don’t have any traces of candy in my teeth. “I think the fact that your grandson is the ring bearer should be a sign that I’ve aced that lesson.”
Joseph starts his monologue anyway. The older he gets, the more he likes to talk.
“People tell you that marriage is a partnership.”
“Yep, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Well, it ain’t. Marriage is never fifty-fifty. Sometimes it’s eighty-twenty. Sometimes its sixty-forty. But whatever the ratio, it will always be your job to protect your family at all costs, and that includes Elizabeth and Knox now. Do whatever you have to do to protect what’s yours and you will always be able to rest your head at night knowing that you’ve done your job.”
I stop primping myself and stare hard at my father.
“I think the topic of this speech is interesting considering that you were the one that put a bullet in that asshole Sergei’s head. How am I supposed to rest my head now knowing that you did my job?”
“You missed the entire point of my story.”
“Nah, I think I got it.”
“Not if you’re asking why it had to be me and not you who handled the Russian. You of all people know that I’ve worked my ass off, so I never have to get my hands dirty anymore, but like I said, a man can sleep at night knowing that he did everything humanly possible to protect what’s his. You have been and will always be my son, Roman, so I needed to handle that threat personally. I couldn’t trust anyone else to do it, even Ivan, so rest assured this entire incident has been put to rest.”
Joseph walks over to the bar in my hotel suite and pours himself a lowball of whisky before I can even say anything in response. In all sincerity, I don’t know what to say.
For years I worked as the muscle for Joseph in our business. I’ve done the dirty work even when it was hard. He has never once cut me any slack or given me a pass. I think the old man is getting softer with age, but you know what? I think I like it.
“You want one?” he offers. “Anxious about taking the vows?”
“Nah, old man. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. I’m calm as a cucumber.”
“I can’t believe that you won over Elizabeth’s parents. That father of hers is a pain in the ass. He always has been.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re completely won over, but we have an understanding.”
“Which is?”
“They understand that if they want to see their grandson that they better be polite to his father.”
“I guess Knox is a highly effective blackmailing tool.” He chuckles. “It’s the eyes.”
I stand in front of Joseph and take a deep breath, then silently go for it. We’ll probably be at odds with each other about something again one day, but not today. I wrap my arms around him and give him a tight bear hug. His body stiffens until I tell him what I probably should have said a long time ago. What perhaps every parent wants to hear from their children. What I hope to hear from Knox one day.
“Thanks for everything, Joseph.”
The overpriced wedding planner that Juliette just had to hire for us knocks once and peeps her head into the room.
“Are you ready, Mr. Masterson? Are you feeling any wedding jitters?”
Why does everyone keep asking me that shit?
I’ve been ready to make Elizabeth mine in not just body and soul but on paper too. It’s funny. I grew up believing that infamous lie boys tell girls about how there’s no difference between living together and marriage. I think we tell each other that horseshit because we’re young and dumb and we don’t want to think any woman has the power to control us or hold us back from “better pussy.”
Now that I’m older and wiser, I see the reality of things. Boys are indeed always worried about making a mistake or missing out on something, but grown-ass men know when they’ve got a good thing and if they’re smart, they lock down their women as quickly as they can. It may have taken a bullet in the gut to propel Elizabeth into wedding mode, but whatever works, right?
She’s mine.
“Ready.”
“Great! I’ll go check on Elizabeth then.”
“What do you mean, check on her?” A minor panic settles in the back of my throat. “Is she okay?”
“The bride always takes a little longer than the groom. That’s just par for the course. I’ll get a hold of her.”
I sit on the couch in my suite and lean forward with my head between my hands.
She’ll get a hold of her?
“Ready for that lowball now?” Joseph smirks. “Told you, you were getting soft.”
“Just be quiet and pour the whiskey, old man.”
Our glasses clink.
“Cheers.”
24
ELIZABETH
“How does it look out there?”
“Amazeballs,” Sloan declares.
“Are the lights low and the candles lit?”
“Check!” my friend Tiny cheerfully affirms.
“Is all my family in place?”
“Yes, Knox is sitting happily on your mom’s lap, Mr. Tibbs is at the front looking cute in his doggy tuxedo, and I think half the town of Penn-Washington is here.”
“So then there’s no reason for me to wait any longer.”
“Not unless you want to Thelma and Louise this bitch and run away,” Sloan says chuckling.
“Sloan!” Tiny exclaims.
“Never,” I assure them. “I’m more sure about what I’m about to do than I have been about anything before.”
“Then why haven’t you been answering your phone for the last thirty minutes?”
“I just needed a technology free moment on my wedding day.”
“Well, explain that to your Prince Charming, because he has left his suite at the Ritz and is driving at warp speed to get here. He’s been texting both me and Tiny, very nasty messages by the way, to make sure you’re okay.”
It was my idea for Roman and I to sleep apart over the last three days. I’m at home with Knox and he’s been staying at a hotel. We’re s
uch a non-traditional couple in so many ways, I wanted us to be traditional about at least a few things. He hates the idea, and I admit it may not be one of my better ones. Being apart makes us both anxious, especially after the shooting.
“Aww, he takes such good care of me.”
“Take care of you? He’s texting like a maniac because he’s probably afraid you’re going to run.”
“Roman knows good and well that I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, now that you’ve gone and had his love child, you can’t.” Sloan laughs. “That ship has sailed.”
I smooth the sides of my dress, which practically skims my every curve. It’s a modern, sleek, silk, full-length halter styled gown with a simple tulle veil that ends at my chin.
“You look amazing, Bitsy,” Tiny tells me.
I can’t believe I was ever worried about how I was going to look with my extra weight in a wedding gown. The seamstress did an excellent job of making sure the dress skimmed my curves and didn’t squish them in like a sausage.
“Yeah, girl, you make a stunning bride. The dark knight should consider himself the luckiest man alive today.”
No, I’m the luckiest.
“Go get my dad,” I tell my two maids of honor who are both dressed in strapless white cocktail dresses. “I’m ready.”
Roman and I are having a black and white wedding in Club Lotus on a Friday night for obvious sentimental reasons. Friday, because that’s our date night and the club because it’s where we first met (well, sort of). It’s a special place for us.
The club has been closed to the public for a week and magically transformed into an elegant room full of white lights with reams of sheer white fabric that hang from the ceiling beams and large white balloons clustered and weighted in specific areas of the room. We covered all the tables in white linen tablecloths with simple white candles of various heights in the center and there are enormous bouquets of sunflowers interspersed throughout the room which add a pop of color and are also a part of the running private joke between us.
Getting married in a non-religious venue has been a sore spot between my parents and I, but honestly I don’t think any place else could rival the sublime beauty of this space. I think the wedding planner got exactly every detail right. The club looks like an elegant, ethereal, otherworldly place. A space befitting our union. It is non-traditional; it is unique, and it is all us.
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