Chapter 30: Weeding day 1.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You’re lying."

She smiles.

"You know me too well."

"I do."

She squeezes my hand.

"I just don’t want to think about it anymore."

"The wedding?"

She nods.

I swallow.

"Then don’t."

"It’s not that easy."

"I know."

Silence settles between us as Olivia rests her head against the seat.

"I used to imagine my wedding differently, you know."

When I don’t say anything she continues.

"I thought I’d be excited. I’d spend months choosing flowers and dresses and stupid little decorations."

"You did choose the dress."

She smiles.

"Yeah."

"You’re still allowed to be excited."

"I know."

She looks down at our hands.

"But it’s hard to be excited when you don’t know the man you’re marrying."

My jaw tightens.

"You don’t have to love him."

She looks at me.

"I know."

"And you don’t have to pretend everything is perfect. You just have to survive the first few months."

She gives me a small smile.

"That sounds reassuring."

"I’m trying."

"I can tell."

I glance at her.

Then she laughs.

"What?"

"You’re terrible at comforting people."

"I’m excellent at comforting people."

"You once told me to stop crying because my tears were ruining your shirt."

"You were sitting on me."

"You pushed me off the bed."

"You were crying on my favorite shirt!."

She laughs again and I smile despite myself.

These moments are becoming precious without either of us saying it. Maybe because we both know they’re numbered.

Eventually, I turn onto the road leading toward the Don’s residence.

The massive gates appear ahead.

I slow down.

I hate this place, i hate what it represents.

The gates open and i drive inside.

Olivia watches me.

"You don’t have to come in."

"I said I’m staying with you."

"I know."

"So I’m coming in."

I park near the entrance of the main building and switch off the engine.

"You know," Olivia says quietly, "we could just run away."

I turn toward her.

"Are you serious?"

She bursts into laughter.

"No."

"You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I just wanted to see your reaction."

"My reaction would have been to start the car again."

"And drive where?"

"Anywhere."

She smiles.

"I know."

We finally step out and walk upstairs.

Olivia’s room is exactly as I remember it.

Everything is neat.....a little too neat for me.

Her bed is made perfectly, clothes arranged in the wardrobe, jewelry organized on the vanity.

I walk in and immediately shake my head.

"This is going to take forever."

Olivia laughs.

"I told you."

"You have enough clothes to dress an army."

"Don’t exaggerate."

"You’re ridiculous."

She throws a pillow at me and I catch it.

"Start with the shoes," I tell her.

"Why?"

"Because they’re going to be the death of me."

We spend the next hour packing.

Olivia folds clothes while I carry boxes.

Every now and then, she stops because she finds something she doesn’t want to leave behind.

A childhood photograph, a necklace, a small stuffed rabbit she insists she doesn’t care about even though she refuses to let me put it in a box.

"You’re taking that."

"No."

"You are."

"Rissa."

"Olivia."

She sighs.

"Fine."

I smile.

Then I find an old photograph of us.

We’re both younger, Olivia is missing one of her front teeth, I’m holding her around the neck.

We look happy.

"What?" Olivia asks.

I hand it to her.

"Nothing."

She looks at the picture, her smile fading slightly.

"We were so young."

"Yeah."

"I miss that."

I look at her.

"So do I."

She puts the photograph carefully inside one of the boxes. Then she comes over and wraps her arms around me.

I hug her back.

Neither of us says anything we don’t need to.

Because tomorrow, we’ll continue packing and the day after that and eventually, there won’t be anything left for Olivia to pack.

Everything she owns will be somewhere else.

With another family, with another man.

I close my eyes.

Just for tonight, I don’t want to think about it.

Tonight, she’s still my sister, She’s still here and I’m not letting anything take that away from us yet.

————

TWO WEEKS LATER.....

Lysander’s POV

I didnt sleep...Not really. Ispent the entire night tossing from one side of the bed to the other, staring at the ceiling, closing my eyes only to open them again a few minutes later.

My mind just refuses to shut up.

Today I’m getting married. I sit on the edge of my bed and drag both hands down my face.

Fuck.

In the mafia, marriage isn’t some arrangement you enter because it feels right and leave because it doesn’t.

There are no easy exits, no divorce nt unless there’s a very serious reason. Our marriages are meant to last, till death do us part.

Literally.

Once I put that ring on her finger today, she’s my wife for good.

I stare at the black suit hanging across the room. It looks almost mocking.

I know exactly what I’m doing, I’ve spent months putting everything into place, calculating risks, making decisions that had to be made for my family and our people.

I knew this day would come, I knew I’d eventually have to stand beside a Luciano woman and call her my wife. But knowing something is coming doesn’t make it easier when it’s finally standing at your door.

I lean forward, elbows resting against my knees. There’s no going back after today.

I’m fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

A knock sounds against the door, I don’t answer but the door opens anyway.

"You’re awake."

Jerry.

Of course.

I look up and find my younger brother standing in the doorway, already dressed.

"You don’t look like you’ve slept either," he says.

"I haven’t."

He walks into the room and closes the door behind him.

"So it’s really happening."

I give him a flat look.

"You sound surprised."

"I’m not."

He leans against the wall.

"You know you still have time to pull out of this shitty mess, right?"

I stare at him.

"Yeah."

My voice comes out quieter than I expect.

"I know."

Jerry studies me. He knows me well enough to hear what I don’t say.

There was a time when I would’ve walked away from this without looking back but that was a long time ago.

Jerry pushes away from the wall.

"You sure?"

I look at him.

"No."

He raises an eyebrow.

"But I’m doing it."

He nods.

That’s all he says, maybe that’s all he needs to say.

I stand and adjust the cuffs of my shirt.

My eyes fall briefly to the clock, time is moving too quickly.

I reach for my wristwatch and fasten it around my wrist as I look at myself in the mirror.

Black suit, white shirt and dark tie.

A man dressed for his own sentence.

My eyes remain on my reflection for a few seconds. Then I turn toward Jerry.

"Come on."

He looks at me.

"Where?"

I walk toward him and clap a hand against his shoulder.

"Drive me to church."

He gives me a small, crooked smile.

"Sure, Don."