Now he seems almost approachable, and not like he might murder all of us. He lifts one heavily-tattooed hand, to tuck a lock of hair back behind Nessa’s ear. In his accented voice, he says, “You look stunning, moja mała baletnica.”
Across the aisle, I see a tall, trim black man in a navy tuxedo. He’s sitting with a slim blonde woman, with Henry sandwiched between them. Clearly that’s Yafeu Solomon, Simone’s diplomat father, and his wife Eloise. Henry is Simone and Dante’s nine-year-old son. He looks much taller than nine, with a head of soft, dark curls, and a gentle expression on his face. He’s quietly solving a Rubik’s cube while he waits for the ceremony to begin. Behind Henry is a pretty young woman who I believe is Henry’s tutor and nanny. She’s obviously been invited because she’s close to Simone, not because Henry needs to be supervised.
My parents come in next, taking a seat behind the Solomons because there’s no more room on Dante’s side. My mother squeezes my shoulder on her way to her seat. She came to visit me in the hospital every day, even though I told her it wasn’t necessary. She brought me clothes, toiletries, books and magazines, Brazil nuts, dried fruit, and chocolate. She brought treats for Raylan, too, until there was barely room for anyone to sit down anymore.
I think my parents feel guilty about Uncle Oran, though none of that was their fault. The funny thing is, whatever grudge I might have held against them when I felt like Callum was their heir, and Nessa was their favorite . . . it all drifted away in those moments when I lay dying on the carpet. In those last few seconds before I drifted away, I didn’t feel anger or resentment. I thought to myself, “I’ve been loved.” My only regret was that I hadn’t shown that same love strongly enough in return.
The last person to arrive is the youngest Gallo brother, Sebastian. He’s here alone, without any plus-one. He’s the tallest of the Gallo boys, taller even than Dante. He walks with a lanky kind of grace, having finally shaken off the persistent limp that plagued him after my brother smashed his knee. His face is somber, though, with dark shadows under his eyes.
I don’t know Sebastian well. I know he used to be a basketball star, with dreams of playing professionally. It was my family that ended those dreams. The Griffins and the Gallos called a truce, and Sebastian’s never shown any resentment toward us since. But I can’t imagine that it doesn’t burn somewhere deep inside of him.
He had no interest in the mafia life. He’s been slowly drawn into it by the violence and conflict of the last few years. I know he shot one of Mikolaj’s men—probably the first person he’d ever killed. I wonder if it eats at him. Or if it felt like an inevitable step. A fate that was always destined to find him, one way or another.
All I know is that he doesn’t look happy today. He sits behind my parents, apart from his own family members.
The cellist pauses, and a different song begins to play, light and hopeful:
First Day of my Life — Bright Eyes (Spotify)
First Day of my Life — Bright Eyes (Apple)
I look down the aisle where Simone and Dante are standing, hand-in-hand. Simone is tall, slim, as bronze as a goddess against her stark white gown. I’m sure any designer in the country would gladly give her their most ostentatious or outrageous gown. Instead, Simone’s dress is simple in the extreme—unadorned, off-the-shoulder, clinging to the figure lauded as the most perfect in the world. Her flat stomach shows no hint of the baby she’s carrying, though I’m sure its existence is one of the factors making Dante look happier than I’ve ever seen him.
Dante can’t take his eyes off Simone. He’s so massive and brutish that usually he looks terrifying in any type of clothes, even a tuxedo. But today Simone’s loveliness radiates with such power that even Dante looks genteel. He looks like the only man in the world who could deserve such a beauty.
They walk down the aisle together, then face each other under the arch. Henry comes to stand between them, looking shy but happy. He’s got the rings in his pocket, and he takes them out even before Enzo Gallo can stand to perform the ceremony.
“Welcome, friends and family,” he says. “I don’t think any