Miraculously, all six-foot-four inches of Bubba Neeley stood stock-still. His jaw couldn’t get any tighter, and his breaths—through his nose—were coming harder now, a sure sign he was trying to calm himself. There was no doubt in my mind Bubba could’ve squashed Tony like a pesky cockroach with no trouble at all. But would he? And if so, would anyone really blame him?
From off in the distance, Aunt Rosa began to pray aloud in Italian. Uncle Laz joined her, and within minutes their voices created a musical sound. Earline began to pray too. In English, of course, with a bit of a Holy Ghost gospel twang. After a few minutes of prayer, she directed her words at the devil, commanding him to flee in Jesus’s name. Within seconds my mama linked her voice in chorus, and then the others followed suit. Before long, what had started out as a barroom brawl had morphed into a full-fledged prayer meeting.
I half expected Bubba to start singing “Just as I Am” and extend an invitation for Tony to give his life to the Lord. Instead, he grabbed a handful of utensils, flashed a crooked smile Tony’s way, and tipped his hat as he headed for the door. “I always hate to leave a party early, but it’s time to go. Besides, I’m feeling about as welcome as a skunk at a picnic.”
“Wait, Bubba! I’m coming too!” Jenna glared at Tony, then took Bubba’s hand, and they marched out the door together.
The rest of us stood like stones, unable to move. The tension in the room was so thick, I thought it might suffocate us, and the heat didn’t help. After whispering a prayer that Tony would come to his senses, I glanced at Earline.
“I suppose we should get on the road,” she said, giving my mother an apologetic look. “It’s been a long day.”
I’ll say. Your son has been scorched by my uncle and accosted by my ex.
Likely I’d never see Earline Neeley again after tonight. Or Bubba. Or—my heart flip-flopped—D.J. Would the entire Neeley clan head for the hills, convinced the Rossis were nothing but trouble?
“It’s a long drive back to Splendora, and we’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” Earline took her husband’s arm. “Church, you know. Pastor Higley’s been preaching the most amazing sermon series. He started with taming the tongue and went on from there to teaching about self-control.” She gave Tony a pensive look as she added, “A lesson we could all stand to learn.”
She and Dwayne Sr. said their good-byes, then left the rest of us alone to deal with my angry ex.
Uncle Laz broke the tension by belching. He rubbed his belly and mumbled, “I need an antacid. Too much barbecue.”
Apparently that was all Aunt Rosa needed to hear. She and Laz slipped out the back door.
“Yeah, I think my work here is done.” Sophia gave Tony a sad look, then hurried from the room.
The field was narrowing. Pretty soon D.J. and I would be left alone in the room to deal with Tony. Perhaps that was for the best. Surely I could calm this hot-tempered Italian down with a few cool words.
My parents stood off in the distance, probably wishing they could bolt too. Sure enough, they quickly bowed out, claiming Pop’s lactose intolerance had kicked in, and we stood—the three of us—in an awkward triangle. Again, I noticed the look of pain in Tony’s eyes. He looked like an injured puppy. Well, an injured puppy ready to bite the ankle of anyone who dared come near.
Looking up at D.J., I whispered, “Would you mind? I need to speak to Tony alone.”
He gave me an “are you sure you want to be alone with this guy?” look, and I nodded. Tony wouldn’t lift a finger to hurt me.
D.J. exhaled, and I could sense his frustration. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I nodded and watched as he walked away, then turned to Tony, trying a softer approach.
“Tony, look . . . I know this is hard. And I never meant to hurt you. I hope you know that. I still care very much about you.”
His jaw flinched as I spoke those last few words, but he didn’t respond.
“It’s not in my heart to hurt anyone. But I can’t force something I don’t feel. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with regrets, wondering if I made the right decision.”
At this, Tony’s head dropped, and he sighed loudly. “You don’t love me, Bella?”
Man. He had to ask such a pointed question? No, I didn’t love him. And no, I never would. But saying it aloud made it seem so . . . hurtful. “Tony, you’re going to make some woman a wonderful husband someday. I . . . I’m not that woman. There’s a part of me that will always care for you”—he looked at me with hope in his eyes, but I shut him down with my closing remarks—“but just not in the way you’re hoping.”
The words “in a brotherly sort of way” flitted through my mind, but I didn’t say them aloud. Still, they rang true. Tony was the sort of guy who’d fit right in as part of my family. Just not as my husband. Maybe my parents could adopt him, but I’d never—repeat, never—take him back as a boyfriend or potential mate.
In spite of his earlier antics, I offered my now-deflated ex a warm hug and sent him on his way. He left with his gaze to the ground and his heart in his hands.
I meandered outside and found Patti-Lou, who worked to load up the last bits of floral stuff into her van.
“Hey, girl.” I took a few steps in her direction, and she turned to me with tears in her eyes. “Whoa. What happened? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
She shrugged. “I gave it my best shot, but I don’t think I’ll ever hear from him again.”
Ah. Mr. Billings.
“How do you know?”
“Just a feeling I get. This always happens to me. I meet a really great guy, and then . . .” She sighed. “He’s gone. Usually forever.”
Wow. What an uplifting night this was turning out to be.
“Don’t worry about me.” Patti-Lou waved a hand in my direction. “I’m okay with being single. It’s a terminal condition. In my case, anyway. I’ve reconciled myself to that fact.”
She disappeared down Broadway in her van, but her words lingered in the air behind. They seemed to swallow me up like the night air. As always, I had to wonder if my single status would ever change. Were Patti-Lou and I destined to be in the same boat forever? Was my singleness a terminal condition too? After a night like tonight, D.J.’s family would likely encourage him to head to higher ground. Find someone with a less nutty family and a less volatile ex-boyfriend.
The very idea of losing D.J. brought the sting of tears to my eyes. A pain I’d never before experienced gripped my heart. Now that my cowboy deejay had boot-scooted on home to his condo at the edge of the gulf, I had to wonder if my chance for happiness had drifted out to sea.
The morning after the wedding, I slept in late. When I finally awoke, every square inch of my body ached. Even my toenails cried out in pain. I didn’t realize until now just how many hours I’d spent on my feet over the past couple of days, or how many things I’d lifted, moved, or cleaned. One thing was clear—all of that work had finally caught up with me.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed was tough enough. But attempting to step down? Near to impossible. My knees didn’t want to bend. For that matter, neither did my back. Even my brain hurt, especially when I paused to think about D.J.’s rapid departure. He’d promised to call, but would I ever really hear from him again after Tony’s shenanigans? I sat in queasy silence for a moment, realizing I’d had too much barbecue last night. Better not to mention it to any of the others, especially Rosa. She’d be offering to rub olive oil on my belly, her homemade cure for stomachaches.
Just as my toes touched down, I heard a rap on the door. I managed a feeble, “Come in.”
Sophia stepped inside, fully dressed and looking like a prom queen. I hated her. How dare she? My sister was practically perfect in every way.
She plopped down on my bed with an apologetic look on her face. “Hey, Bella. You going to church today?”
“Yes. If I can just get my body to unfold, and if this queasiness passes.”
She laughed, then gave me a sheepish look. “I’m going too, but I have ulterior motives.”
“Oh?” I gave her a curious look.
“I need to pray for forgiveness.”
“For what?”
She sighed, then peered at me with damp lashes. “I’m so sorry about inviting Tony last night without asking you first.”
“Aha. So you’re to blame.” I’d never been one to hold back my thoughts where my sister was concerned, so I plowed ahead. “I just don’t get it, Sophia. I thought you liked D.J. Why would you sabotage me like that?”
“Oh, I do like D.J.!” She offered a convincing nod along with a bright smile. “He’s great. His whole family is. And I think you two are perfect together. And I wasn’t trying to sabotage you at all, I promise.”
I stared at her, confused. “Well, why bring Tony into the mix? Didn’t you realize things would turn out the way they did?”
“Well . . .” My sister’s cheeks flushed, and for the first time a niggling suspicion settled in.
“Don’t tell me you’re . . .”
“Do you hate me, Bella?” She gave me an imploring look. “I didn’t mean to fall for him. I’ve been fighting it for months. But I’ve had the wildest crush on Tony for ages now.”
“Ew.”
She sighed. “I know. It kind of grossed me out at first too. Falling for my sister’s boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Yeah.” Her gaze shifted to the ceiling, then back down again. “But to be honest, I liked him even when you were still dating.”
“Double ew.”
“I tried not to.” Her eyes narrowed, and I thought I saw a glistening of tears. “You have no idea how hard I tried. Didn’t you ever notice that I made excuses not to be around on the nights he came for dinner? And that time you invited me along on your date to Moody Gardens, I told you I had an appointment?” After I nodded, she sighed. “I lied. I spent that afternoon at the restaurant, drinking three large caramel mocha macchiatos.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, I was up all night. You know what caffeine does to me.” She gave me an imploring look. “Oh, but Tony does the same thing to me, only worse. I can’t sleep when I think about him. I feel like I’m on a high when he’s around, and I have this huge, plunging feeling all the way to my toes when he’s gone. I’m . . . addicted, Bella. And I can’t help it.”
“I understand that particular addiction, trust me.” My heart had taken a pretty big plunge last night when I realized D.J. had left. And I certainly understood the staying up all night thing too. I’d hardly slept in the two weeks since meeting him.
Sophia continued, oblivious to my thoughts. “After you broke up with Tony, I hoped . . .” Another sigh escaped, and I understood in an instant what she’d been trying to say all along. She’d been hoping Tony would turn his attention away from me—and toward her.
Well, this certainly explained why none of her dates ever seemed to work out. How could they, when she’d given her heart to another?
“I need you to forgive me.” She looked at me with misty eyes. “I promised myself I’d never let a man come between me and my sister.”
“Sounds like a song.”
“I know, but I really mean it. He’s . . .” She stammered over the words. “He’s . . . not worth it. He’ll probably never even figure out I exist, but you . . .” She reached to take my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll be my sister for life. So please forgive me.”
“I’ll forgive you on one condition.” I eased myself to a standing position. “When you and Tony are married and have half a dozen children, I still want you to work for me at the wedding facility. I plan to be in business for years to come, and I can’t do it without you. And you’ll have to ask me to be your maid of honor . . . even if it’s a little weird.” I shivered, thinking about just
how
weird it would be.
“Oh, Bella!” Sophia lunged into my arms, almost knocking me down. “You’ve got it. And wouldn’t Tony and I make beautiful babies together?” She clasped her hands together and giggled. “Sophia DeLuca. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Extending her left hand, she looked at the empty ring finger. “Someday. I know it’s going to happen. I just know it.”
A starry-eyed look replaced her once-sensible expression, and I shrugged. Maybe Sophia and Tony would end up living a happily-ever-after life, but would I? After last night, I highly doubted it.
Sophia sashayed out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I showered, I reenacted the wedding. Sure, the cleanup had presented some problems, but the actual wedding and reception had come off without a hitch. With God’s help, I’d done it! I’d pulled off my first real themed wedding. And the bride and groom left for their honeymoon content. Really, that was all that mattered. Right?
Of course, there was that one little incident that involved Bubba’s eyebrows. And the police. And of course there was Bubba’s black eye to consider. But if you didn’t factor in all of those things, the night could very well be considered a success.
A wave of satisfaction washed over me as I reveled in the possibility that I wouldn’t drive our family’s business into the ground. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I looked forward to the next wedding—a medieval extravaganza. Knights in shining armor. Ladies-in-waiting. What fun I’d have working with the bride-to-be. Not that I really knew much about the Renaissance era. Hmm. I’d better spend some time researching over the next couple of weeks.
Oh, but right now all I wanted to do was relax. Take a deep breath. Thank God for all he’d done . . . and then figure out a way to express my regrets to D.J.’s family about Tony’s actions.
I spent the next couple of hours in church with the Rossi clan. Seated in the pew, I praised God for his many blessings and asked him to mend any broken fences between the Rossis and the Neeleys. Reverend Woodson spoke on overcoming obstacles, a lesson I needed to hear. And looking at his boots reminded me that I had a little business to take care of when I arrived home: the Lanciottis. I needed to get them back into their rightful owner’s hands.
Later that afternoon—after Rosa’s traditional Sunday afternoon lunch of spaghetti and meatballs—I stood in the front hall, humming “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’.” I found the lyrics applicable, since more than a dozen pair of boots had disappeared over the past week or so. Everyone in the Rossi family had claimed at least one pair. Mama found a pretty pair with fringe. Rosa had taken the orange pair, claiming they made her run faster. Armando, Nick, and Joey had each settled on a pair, and Uncle Laz . . . well, once he’d sworn off the Lanciottis, he’d settled on a plain pair of worn brown boots, claiming they were the most comfortable things he’d ever put on his feet.