Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
If only my bride will be so excited about our wedding day. One thing is for sure. It won’t be the happiest day of her life. Yet I have a suspicion it wasn’t the best day of my mother’s life either, and look how she and my father turned out. They’re making it work. They respect and care for each other. My mother loves my father in her own way. As for him, he’ll never say it, but he can’t live without her.
“I better have a look at that tire then,” I say, leading the way outside. “Why didn’t Cusso pick up that the car has a flat tire?”
“I left the car in front of the house,” my mother says, following on my heels. “I came home late from shopping yesterday, and I knew I needed to leave early today.” She adds quickly, “I didn’t ask him to park my car in the garage.”
She’s always covering for the staff, making sure they don’t get into trouble for not doing their jobs. Cusso should’ve parked her car in the garage without being told to do so. That’s what we pay him for. But my mother has a soft spot for the ex-mechanic who was retrenched from his previous job and who needs the money to feed his six kids.
Adeline exits with my father leaning on her arm for support.
“I would’ve offered to take my scooter,” my sister says with humor, “but I guess you’re not up for a ride on the back, Maman. Anyway, you’re not exactly dressed for it.”
“Another reason why you should drive a car and not a toy on wheels,” my father says.
“Come on.” Adeline nudges my father. “My scooter is vintage. It has style.” She grins. “Plus, it’s pink.”
“We can always buy you a pink car if that’s the tipping point of your purchase decision,” I say.
My father huffs. “Over my dead body.”
“Hey.” Adeline props a hand on her hip. “At least my favorite color isn’t black like the rest of my family’s, judging by their cars. I can’t help it if you’re all boring.” She tests my father’s balance before heading for the front door. “Give me a minute to grab my bag. I’ll be right back.”
Cusso has already brought my father’s car to the front of the house. He pauses in polishing it and takes off his cap when we approach.
The front left tire of my mother’s car is flat. I crouch down to inspect the wheel. The problem is a thorn lodged in the rim. The gardeners trimmed the date palm trees because my mother wants to decorate the trunks with fairy lights for the wedding. They removed the branches and raked the driveway, but my mother must’ve been unlucky enough to drive over one of the thorny parts that was left behind.
“Slow puncture,” I say, straightening. “Cusso, get that fixed as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, keeping his head bowed.
“Next time, make sure you notice it before my mother does,” I add.
He twists the cap in his hands. “Yes, sir.”
My mother trains a panicked look on me. “I can’t cancel the appointment. The baker is the best in the country. He’s booked up for months.”
“He’ll move the appointment to whenever I tell him to,” my father says in a heated voice.
“No, Santino,” my mother replies, startled. “Don’t work yourself up over this. It’s not good for your heart. Besides, we don’t want to arrange the wedding like that. No threats or violence. It’s supposed to be a day of love.”
“Ah, hell,” he says with a grumble, taking his key from his pocket. “Take my car.”
Relief floods her expression. “Didn’t you say you were going to meet your brothers at the club?”
Adeline returns with a tote bag slung over her shoulder. The man who’s on bodyguard duty today approaches from the direction of the barracks. He’ll follow the women in his own car. My father always gives my mother and sister the illusion of privacy. Some will call that illusion of privacy the illusion of freedom.
“I’ll drive Papa there,” I say. “I haven’t seen Uncle Enzo and Nico for a while. It’ll be a good opportunity to catch up on some business before the wedding.”
“That’s a good idea,” my mother says, already pressing the remote to unlock the doors. “Especially as you’ll be away on honeymoon after the wedding.”
I raise a brow. “Who said anything about a honeymoon?”
“Angelo Russo.” My mother pulls herself to her full height. “You will take your wife on a proper honeymoon to a romantic location. It’s the least you can do.”
Getting into the car, she slams the door on that statement. Adeline winks as she hops into the passenger side, clearly enjoying how our mother put me back in my place.
My sister winds down the window, sticks out her arm, and waves as my mother pulls off.