She Took My Wedding, So I Married the Don Chapter 13

Four hours and twelve minutes.

That’s how long he was in surgery. I know, because I watched the clock on the waiting room wall and didn’t blink.

I was still in the red dress. Still covered in his blood. Gia sat on one side of me, holding my hand so hard my fingers

went numb. Nonna sat on the other, praying in Italian with her rosary.

Rocco stood by the door like a wall, and every time a doctor walked past, all four of us stopped breathing.

At hour three, my father came in.

He looked ten years older. He stood in front of me with his hands in his pockets and couldn’t seem to find a single

word.

“Go away, Dad.”

“I deserve that.” His voice broke. “Your grandfather told me. Years ago. He said, ‘You’re going to lose the good one, Richard, and you won’t even notice until she’s gone.” He wiped his eyes. “I noticed tonight. When you stood up there.

You looked just like him.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

“Your mother isn’t coming,” he said quietly. “She’s with Bianca. She says…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what

she says. I’m sorry, Sloane. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just needed you to know that I know.”

He put something in my lap.

A key. Old. Brass.

“Your grandfather’s workshop. I never sold it. I couldn’t.” He swallowed. “It’s yours. It always should’ve been.”

He left before I could answer.

At hour four, Bianca came, in sweatpants with her mascara everywhere. She didn’t say anything. She just sat down on

the floor at my feet and put her head against my knee, the way she used to when we were little and the thunder scared

her.

I put my hand in her hair.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.

At four hours and twelve minutes, the doctor came out.

“He’s stable. The bullet missed his liver by a centimeter. He’s going to be fine.”

Nonna burst into tears. Gia screamed. Rocco turned around and faced the wall so nobody would see his face.

I couldn’t move.

“Mrs. Moretti?” the doctor said gently. “He’s asking for you. Well-demanding.”

He looked wrong in a hospital bed. Too big. Too pale. Tubes everywhere.

But his eyes were open, and they found me the second I walked in.

“Hey,” I whispered.

“Hey.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand and then I was crying, finally, ugly and loud, all four hours and twelve

minutes coming out at once.

“You walked toward the door,” I sobbed. “You were going to let him take you. You idiot. You were just going to-”

“I’d do it again.”

“I know! That’s the problem!”

He laughed. Then winced. Then laughed again.

“Sloane,” he said. “Look at me.”

I looked.

“I told you this was business. One year. Don’t fall in love.” He squeezed my hand. “I lied.”

“You promised no lies.”

“I know. It’s the only one.” His thumb brushed my knuckles. “I fell in love with you the first day you walked into that garage and told Sal his torque wrench was garbage. Six months ago. Standing in the shadows like a fool. I’ve been in

love with you the whole time,”

My heart stopped.

“I didn’t marry you to protect you,” he said. “I married you because I wanted any excuse to keep you.”

I leaned down and kissed him. Carefully. Around the tubes.

“I love you too,” I whispered against his mouth. “You overgrown, terrifying, beautiful idiot.”

He smiled-the real one, the soft one. Then his eyes went serious.

“Tear up the contract.”

“And then what are we?”

“Then,” Luca said, “you’re going to marry me again. Properly. In a dress you pick. In front of everyone.”

I laughed through my tears. “Yes.”

“But first,” I said, and touched the brass key in my pocket, “there’s one more thing I have to take back.”