Chapter 1 - The Brother Who Stayed
“I want to marry you.”
Leon’s words hung between us while someone outside the sitting room dragged a chair across the floor.
I stared at him.
“Your brother just left me at the altar.”
“I know.”
“And you think the solution is another brother?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly are you offering?”
He glanced toward the hallway, where his mother was still giving instructions in the bright, brittle voice she used whenever reality disappointed her.
“A choice,” he said. “But I picked a terrible moment to say it.”
I laughed once. It hurt.
“A terrible moment?”
“Yes.”
His willingness to agree took some of the anger out of me. I wished it hadn’t. Anger was easier to hold than humiliation.
Leon remained in the doorway.
He was thirty-six, seven years older than Enzo, and nothing like him. Enzo entered rooms expecting affection. Leon entered them knowing where the exits were.
People lowered their voices around Leon Bellandi.
I had spent four years pretending I didn’t know why.
“You barely speak to me,” I said.
“I speak to you.”
“You ask whether the delivery came. Whether my aunt’s knee is better. Whether the shop alarm works.”
“Those are things I want to know.”
Outside, Teresa called his name.
Leon closed the door halfway, leaving it open enough that I wouldn’t feel trapped.
That small courtesy nearly undid me.
“Is this about protecting your family’s reputation?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not a stain you can cover with a different last name.”
His expression changed.
“I know that.”
“Does your mother?”
“No,” he said again.
For the first time all afternoon, someone gave me an answer without wrapping it in silk.
I sat on the edge of a chair. My dress spread around me, hundreds of hours of stitching reduced to something I couldn’t bear to look at.
Leon crouched far enough away that his knees didn’t touch the hem.
“I should have told you how I felt before today.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
His jaw tightened.
“Before you became engaged. After that, it wasn’t mine to interfere.”
“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me?”
“I’m telling you I would like the chance to earn something with you. When you aren’t standing in the wreckage of something else.”
A knock interrupted us.
My aunt Ruth pushed the door open without waiting.
“Good,” she said, seeing Leon. “Somebody sensible. Mara, take off those shoes before you lose circulation.”
Then she noticed our faces.
“What happened?”
“Your niece thinks I’ve lost my mind,” Leon said.
“Have you?”
“Possibly.”
“He asked me to marry him.”
Aunt Ruth looked at him for a long, measuring moment.
“Well,” she said. “Timing clearly runs in the family.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Then I started crying.
Not elegantly. Not in the quiet way women cried in movies while their mascara stayed beautiful.
My aunt sat beside me. Leon stood, found tissues, and put them within reach without trying to touch me.
When I could breathe again, I said, “I want to go home.”
“I’ll drive,” Ruth said.
Leon nodded immediately.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t tell me it would be safer with him. He simply stepped aside.
At the doorway, Teresa appeared.
“Mara, darling, we need to discuss the vendors. There are outstanding balances, and naturally, with the ceremony canceled—”
“Tomorrow,” Leon said.
“The hotel requires—”
“I’ll handle the hotel.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed.
“This is a family matter.”
“Mara is standing right here.”
Teresa looked at me as though that were an inconvenience.
I got to my feet.
“Send me the invoices,” I told her. “The actual invoices. Not a total.”
Something flickered across her face.
It was gone before I could understand it.
At home, Ruth unfastened the tiny buttons down my back. I stepped out of the dress and hung it on the wardrobe door.
My phone held thirty-seven messages.
None were from Enzo.
There was one from Leon.
You owe me no answer. You owe my family nothing. Your shop keys are in the blue pocket of your garment bag.
I checked.
They were exactly where he said.
Beneath them was an envelope I had never seen.
My name was printed across the front.
Inside lay a notice from a private lender.
My shop had been pledged as collateral for a loan of one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
The signature at the bottom looked like mine.
May you like
I had never signed it.
And the payment was due Friday.
