Epilogue

Epilogue

The wedding planning and the ceremony itself had been quick, but the reception lasted into the early hours of the next morning. Once again, the Santini family came out in full force.

Carlos smiled as Tia leaned her head against his shoulder. They were sitting at the head table watching everyone party through the night. He kissed her forehead. She was a vision in ivory silk and lace, a simple dress for a complicated, beautiful woman. He would never forget the way she looked in it as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm.

“I kind of like being a Santini,” she said. He could hear the tired happiness in her voice. He could understand as he looked around the ballroom. His family did tend to do things big, especially weddings.

“I like you being a Santini.”

“That’s good, because you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckled. Just then, Conrad Santini, the son of his cousin Brennan, came rushing toward them. He was five and sugared up.

“Carlos,” he said louder than the music, which was a feat since it was blaring.

“Whatcha need?”

“Papa is trying to make me go to bed.”

The man in question came running up behind him. “It’s almost one in the morning, Conrad.”

The boy frowned and looked at Carlos. “Aunt Joey said that it was time to celebrate, and gave me three pieces of cake.”

Carlos sat up and leaned down to eye level. “Well, just so you know, Aunt Joey has been drinking a lot tonight.”

Brennan smiled. “I’d be careful, cuz.” It always sounded funny when he used slang. There was a ting of his mother’s British accent in Brennan’s voice. “Conrad tells that woman everything.”

Carlos chuckled. “She has them all brainwashed.”

“She didn’t wash my brain,” Conrad said. “She gave me cake.”

His father chuckled. “Yeah, that’s how it all gets started. Come on.”

He picked up his son, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him away.

“Where is his wife?” Tia asked as she watched him walk away.

Carlos glanced at her. “Died in a car wreck last year.”

“How sad,” she said, looking out over the crowd. “What happens when a Santini loses his mate?”

He shrugged. “Not really sure. Hasn’t happened during my lifetime.”

“Hmm.”

He leaned closer and nibbled on her earlobe. “How about we ditch these losers?”

She laughed. “Yes. My feet hurt though. I need to take off my shoes, but I don’t want to trip over my dress.”

“I can take care of that,” he said, rising from his chair. He leaned down and plucked her off the seat and into his arms. She didn’t resist. She entwined her arms around his neck.

“Santinis are such showoffs.”

He smiled at her. “Oh, darlin’, you haven’t seen anything yet.”