pinches tight. I can’t believe these women are so accepting, calling me their sister. I seek Roman out in the flurry, and he’s leaning against the kitchen island, a huge smile on his face.
One of the sisters, I think it’s Aurora, speaks quickly in Italian. I struggle to grasp what she’s saying.
“English,” Roman says, and she turns back to me.
She fists her hands. “I ought to give it to Roman for keeping you from us, bella.”
“I told you. We wanted time alone before we let you know,” he explains. “We were going to tell you soon, isn’t that right, Peyton?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, pushing the lie past a tight throat. Pretending to be married for a job at a school that practices unfair hiring rules is one thing, but straight-up lying to the people he’s closest to doesn’t sit well with me. Not even a little bit.
“I think the waffles are burning,” Roman says.
Aurora leaves my side, and that’s when I spot an elderly woman on the sofa, her purse clutched in her lap, a small smile on her face.
“You must be Roman’s mother,” I say, and move toward her.
She nods and pats the sofa. I sit beside her and she cups my face. She kisses both my cheeks and takes my hand in hers to examine the ring.
“It fits you perfectly,” she says, and I’m not sure she’s talking about the size of it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi.”
“Phooey,” she says with a wave of her hand, and everyone laughs. “You, my sweet bella, can call me Mamma.”
I take a fast breath as tears pound behind my eyes and threaten to spill. This sweet woman wants to be my mamma. I nod, my throat so tight I can barely swallow. “Okay, Mamma,” I say and Roman must pick up on the hitch in my voice because a second after those words leave my mouth he’s there, right there, pulling me into his arms.
“You have an amazing family,” I say as I turn to him.
“Yeah, I know.”
“But we have a problem,” he says quietly as dishes clang in the kitchen.
I blink up at him, but don’t see worry in his eyes. “What problem?”
“Remember I told you they were interfering?”
I nod.
“We want a real wedding,” his mother says, and pushes to her feet. She holds one finger up. “Only then will I forgive Roman for getting married behind my back.”
I blink rapidly. “A real wedding? What do you mean?” I glance around, and realize four out of the five sisters are on their phones; the fifth is in the kitchen dishing up waffles. One sister is talking about flowers, one about a dress. My God, are they making wedding arrangements for us? “What’s going on?”
“They want to see us exchange vows. It won’t be a big ceremony. Just a small one with family.”
“Roman...” I’m about to say no, he’s done enough, but there’s a part of me that just can’t. I actually want this. I want this to be real with Roman, and...maybe, just maybe he wants it, too.
He puts his mouth to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers along my spine. “It will solve our problem with Richard, Peyton.”
Or maybe not.
“Please say yes, Peyton,” Lucy asks, and pulls me in for another hug. I take a breath, completely overwhelmed with all this.
Say no, Peyton.
No matter how much I might want this, I can’t go through with it. I have to say no. I have to.
“What do you think?” Roman asks.
“Roman, do you—”
“I do,” he says, and for a brief second it catches me off guard, like I might have actually just proposed to him and he might have just agreed. My stomach rolls, wanting so much for this to be real.
“Do you?” he asks, and the room goes silent—a huge task for this group, I’m sure.
I take in all the hopeful, expectant looks. I can’t bear to disappoint them, even though going through with a ceremony, only to nullify the marriage later, will undoubtedly leave me scarred and emotionally wrecked. “I do,” I say, and the girls all start clapping and jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute in Italian.
Okay, I need a minute alone here to get my head and my heart straightened out. But no, that’s not about to happen. The next thing I know I’m being led to the rooftop, with Mamma beside me as all the sisters bring up plates of food.
They set plates at the table, and the first thing I do