: Chapter 5

“Paolo wants to talk to you,” Dad said as he stepped into my room after knocking. I had been reading a book on the restoration of medieval paintings for college even though I wasn’t sure when I’d be ready to return to my courses or when Dad would allow me to go.

A week had passed since the kidnapping, and I’d expected my fiancé to contact me sooner. On the other hand, I dreaded how mortifying it would be. I felt…I wasn’t sure what I felt, knowing Paolo had probably seen me with Maximus. I knew it wasn’t my fault. I had done nothing wrong, yet I felt inexplicably ashamed.

I shivered, trying not to let my thoughts take me down that road again. It would make leaving the house and going into public even harder, but I didn’t want to hide.

“Only took him a week,” I said with a fake smile.

“He contacted me right after, but I didn’t think having you deal with him was a good idea.”

I nodded. I didn’t like that Dad kept things from me, but I understood his need to protect me, especially because I knew he felt guilty.

“He can come over today if he wants,” I said, ignoring the way my pulse picked up and my belly clenched at the thought of meeting him. I hadn’t even dared thinking about our upcoming marriage yet. Maybe because I wasn’t sure if I even still wanted to go through with it. How could things not always be strange between Paolo and me? And if I was really pregnant…

The thought made my belly flip, but I shoved it away. I still had a week of not knowing, and fretting over it wouldn’t make things easier.

The moment Paolo entered our house, I knew there wouldn’t be a wedding. He couldn’t even look at my face.

“Hey, Sara,” he said as a way of greeting, his smile awkward and tight. He kept his distance from me. Not that we’d ever exchanged physical contact, but the distance between us had grown in every possible way.

Mom and Dad hovered in the background. Dad had made it very clear that he wouldn’t allow me to be alone with Paolo today. Not that I wanted privacy.

“Hey, Paolo.”

He looked like he hadn’t slept much, with dark circles under his brown eyes, and he appeared even more haggard than usual. He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms over his thighs, then he sent my parents a tight smile.

Paolo didn’t want to marry me. I could see it in his face, in his body language. He just didn’t know how to tell me without being rude and breaking our world’s rules. Though I supposed seeing your future wife having sex with another man on video, even if she didn’t choose to do so, gave Paolo a few loopholes to evade the marriage.

I felt sad, but not because I had feelings for him. I’d liked him in a platonic way and hadn’t minded a marriage when his parents had asked mine, but my heart had never been in it. I was sad because the future I had always envisioned slowly unraveled before my very eyes. I wouldn’t marry this winter and build a beautiful family with three kids. I’d be the center of gossip, with a canceled wedding and possibly a child from a man I wasn’t married to, born from an act I was trying to forget.

Everything I’d always wanted was suddenly out of reach. Most men wouldn’t marry me now. And was I really ready for that sort of commitment, for the intimacy it required?

“I don’t think we should go through with the wedding,” I said, making it easier for Paolo and myself. I couldn’t bear the awkward silence anymore, and I definitely didn’t want to listen to any possible explanation Paolo had come up with. “That’s what you came here to say, right?”

He looked from my parents to me, then quickly back again as if I’d caught him doing something indecent. And maybe it was. Perhaps it was cowardly and weak to end an engagement when your fiancée went through what I had, but I couldn’t blame him. Even I felt icky about the situation, about myself.

Dad’s expression darkened as he met Paolo’s gaze. “Is that why you’re here?”

Mom came over to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I touched her hand in reassurance. “It’s fine. It’s for the best.”

Dad scoffed. “It’s dishonorable to break an engagement, especially if your fiancée was hurt.”

“I didn’t…” Paolo trailed off. “It’s just…”

“Don’t,” I muttered. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. It’s over. You’re free to move on, and so am I.”

“Right.” Paolo shifted from one foot to the other, then gave a resolute nod. “I’ll be gone then. My father will call to make the necessary arrangements for the announcement.”

He backed away, briefly paused at the front door as if he wanted to say more, then he left.

In the utter silence that followed, I could practically hear my heart breaking. I didn’t feel as if I were free to move on. I carried too much baggage from the past and fear of the future with me. At least now I didn’t have to worry about a wedding anymore. Probably never again.

I let out a bitter laugh and closed my eyes. After a deep breath, I opened them again even though I knew the result would be the same.

The pregnancy test on the counter didn’t leave any room for doubt. It wasn’t a slight second line, not one you’d have to look for like some people did in those cutesy pregnancy test videos I used to watch on TikTok. My second line was fat and blue. It was unnecessary to do another test, but I still did. This one was even more blunt. Pregnant. It was as simple as that.

I was pregnant.

Pregnant from an event I wanted to forget.

Pregnant by a man I often resented even though I knew he didn’t have a choice, and I had even given him the okay. An okay that hadn’t really been worth much.

Pregnant out of wedlock.

Oh, the gossip mills would love it.

I’d always been someone who preferred the sidelines. I never picked the boldly colored dresses or did anything crazy with my hair. I never laughed too loudly or acted out. I liked being in the shadows. It was where I was comfortable, a place where I could watch other people and admire their bravery to be bold. But I’d been dragged into the spotlight in the worst way possible, and now with this pregnancy and a canceled wedding, there was no way I could escape into the shadows again.

They wouldn’t let me.

They.

As if it was as easy to spot the people who’d condemn me. Nobody would openly point fingers. There would be pity and understanding, not open condemnation. But I knew how things would play out in the end. Some people would say I shouldn’t have gone to college, then I would have been safe. Some would blame it on my clothes or something equally ridiculous.

I hated that I felt helpless. I hated that things were once again out of my control. I didn’t want to be a bystander when my future was decided. It was my life. I wanted to be the one to choose how it would unfold, even if my options were limited. I still wanted everything I’d once wished for.

I looked up from the pregnancy test to my reflection. Maybe the rules were unfair toward women, especially women like myself, but I couldn’t change the rules or our world. I could only try to still fit in—for my family’s sake, for my sake, and even for the baby’s sake.

That left me with only one option. It wasn’t one I’d ever considered in the past two weeks, not really. Now, it was my way of taking the reins back.

The sound of a bike’s engine raised the hairs at the nape of my neck. When Maddox pulled up in the driveway, I took a deep breath to suppress my body’s reaction. I was in fight mode, as if the mere sight of a motorcycle was enough to bring out the murderer in me. I had always hated the bikers. It came with my job, and somehow, I hated them even more now. If they hadn’t recorded Marcella getting hurt, Jabba would have never come up with the idea to hurt Sara.

Maddox pulled his helmet off, then smoothed his blond hair away from his face. He looked like an MC member, even if he wasn’t wearing the cut anymore and had been working for the Famiglia for a while. Hell, he was even married to Luca’s daughter Marcella, but it didn’t make him a Made Man. The biker was ingrained in him, triggering me like never before. I hadn’t been one of the people angry with Luca for allowing him to work for us or be part of our world. I knew people could change and form new loyalties. I wouldn’t be here today if Luca hadn’t taken a chance on Dad.

Maddox regarded me from his spot on his bike as if he knew what I was thinking. He finally dismounted and headed my way. We had worked together on occasion when he’d helped us capture bikers, but this time, our encounter felt different, weighed down by feelings that didn’t even make sense.

He raised his eyebrows. “You look like you want to punch me.” He shrugged. “If that helps you get over the shit you’ve been through, be my guest.” He tilted his chin up in invitation. Fuck, I should be grateful for his help. He was good at finding people who didn’t want to be found—bikers, Bratva soldiers, simply everyone.

“I want to torture and kill. Punching won’t even begin to satisfy my need for revenge,” I growled. Fuck, I needed to get a grip. It wasn’t Maddox’s fault. He was here to help.

He shoved his hands into his black jeans and stared up into the overcast sky. “I regret many things. But I won’t ever regret kidnapping Marcella. Because if I hadn’t made the biggest fucking mistake of my life, she wouldn’t be my wife today, and that would be a fucking shame.”

“You’re lucky your kidnapping had such a happy ending,” I muttered bitterly.

“Maybe there can be a happy end for you too.”

Something snapped inside me, and I grabbed his throat. “A happy ending after what I did? Do you think Marcella would have become your wife if you had raped her?”

His fingers closed around my wrist, but he didn’t try to pull me away. He stared straight into my eyes. The understanding in them frustrated me even more. I wanted my rage to be met with rage. I wanted a reason to kill the man before me. “From what I saw, neither of you had a choice.”

I released him, grimacing. Had anyone not seen that fucking video?

“You’re here to help me find the men responsible for our capture, not to be the judge over my sins. Only Sara and God can do that.”

I was brushing my dog Bacon’s white fur on my parents’ veranda when my phone rang. He let out a yowl when I put down the brush. His short fur didn’t require combing, but he loved being petted like that, so I tried to brush him every other night. Despite his upbringing in a puppy mill, he was a very gentle Dogo Argentino.

When I saw the name on the screen, my brief sense of calm evaporated. It was Romero. Did he have new information on the Russians? Maddox’s and my investigations hadn’t come up with their location so far.

“Can you come over?” Romero asked.

“To your house?” I asked, stunned. I’d never been there, and after what had happened, I hadn’t expected for that to change. I hadn’t seen Sara in the past two weeks, nor anyone from her family except for Romero. Flavio avoided me and so did the women of the family, naturally.

“Yes. We need to discuss something.”

“Sure.” I stood and dusted myself off. “I can be there in forty minutes.”

“Good.” Romero hung up.

“What’s up?” Primo asked as he came up behind me. He had been stretched out on the swing.

“Romero wants me to come over to his place.”

Primo’s face reflected my own confusion. We shared the same hair color, but his eyes were our mother’s blue. Not as kind, though. “Do you think it’s a trap? Do you want me to come with you as backup?”

That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d been too wrapped up in the thought that I might see Sara again, and fuck, that possibility scared me more than a possible trap. I could deal with torture, but I wasn’t sure I could face her.

“That’s not Romero’s style.”

“Some things change people.”

Who was he telling? I wasn’t the same person I’d been before. I didn’t want to think of how Romero must have felt watching the recording. Fuck. If he changed his mind and wanted to kill me in front of Sara, could I really blame him? Should I even stop him?

“Don’t even think about it,” Primo warned. “Your death won’t change anything. You can’t undo it. You did what had to be done. Everyone agrees.”

“I doubt Sara does,” I growled.

“She said it’s okay, Max. You killing yourself with guilt won’t make a difference. But you killing every Bratva soldier as brutally as you can will.”

I patted Bacon’s head who’d picked up on my agitation and pressed himself against my leg.

“I need to leave now if I want to make it on time in this traffic.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” Primo asked with crossed arms.

“Absolutely.”

I got into my truck and drove off. I could see Primo in the rearview mirror with Bacon by his side, watching me leave. I wondered if this was the last time I’d see my brother. Should I have hugged my mom one more time?

I shook my head. I turned up the music, drowning out my thoughts.

After I’d parked at the curb in front of the Cancio home, a brownstone townhouse in Greenwich Village, I stayed seated for a while. It wasn’t that I was scared of possible retribution. I blew out a breath and got out, then headed for the door.

It opened before I could knock. Flavio stood in the doorway. He was only seventeen, but in the past two weeks since the kidnapping, he’d become a real man. He wasn’t as tall as me, very few were, and not as broad, but from the tension in his body, I could tell it wouldn’t stop him from a fight. “Took you a long time to get out of your car.”

Romero appeared behind his son and gave me a tight smile. They were the same height and looked remarkably alike, with brown hair, brown eyes, and similar facial features. “Maximus, come in.” He opened the door wider and gave Flavio a stern look that made him step back so I had room to enter.

“Should I take my shoes off?” I asked. My boots would probably leave marks on the beige carpet.

“Liliana would rip your head off if you didn’t,” Romero said with a tight smile.

I had a feeling she would do it with or without shoes. I slipped out of my shoes and left them on a mat by the door.

It felt strange being inside their home, as if I were intruding even though they’d asked me to come. Steps sounded upstairs, then Liliana rushed down the wooden staircase and stormed my way. She slapped me hard. I didn’t move, waiting for more of her anger to manifest in violence, but she simply breathed harshly, glaring at my chest. Sara shared similar facial features to her mother, and just that reminder was enough to make me take whatever violence she wanted to unleash. She was a petite woman, but her slap would have made even some men take notice.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“No, I understand.” I had expected something like this when Sara’s family had asked to see me.

Romero came up behind his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. She visibly relaxed under his touch. He gave me a nod. “Let’s go to the dining room.” He steered his wife toward the door to our right.

I followed them into the cozy dining room. Candles cast a warm light on their surroundings, and the scent of fresh flowers filled the room. A large bouquet of wildflowers on the rustic wooden table explained why my nose picked up the floral note. It wasn’t a room used for representation. It was a room where a family lived in. I felt reminded of home, even if I knew I wasn’t really welcome here. I wasn’t sure why they wanted to see me. I hovered in the middle of the room, not sure if they wanted me to sit down. Flavio entered the room. He had more trouble looking at me without accusation. His father hid his feelings better if he had them.

Romero motioned at one of the chairs. I sank down and stared at the quote across from me on the wall: Happiness is homemade.

I waited for the others to sit as well, but instead, they exchanged looks.

Romero let out a quiet sigh. “The past few weeks have been difficult for our family. In particular for Sara of course. Yesterday, we got news that added to this.”

Liliana met my gaze. She folded her hands, her knuckles turning white. Whatever the news, it was horrible. “Sara is pregnant.”

I froze. It took me several moments to realize why they were telling me this—I was the father. Sara was pregnant because of what had happened between us, because of what I’d done. I doubted I’d come, but I had been so deeply in my head, in my fantasy, trying to use the hypnosis techniques I’d learned that I couldn’t one hundred percent be sure.

I didn’t say anything. My thoughts were a jumbled mess.

Liliana and Romero exchanged a look that spoke of shared trust and wordless understanding, one I sometimes witnessed between my parents and had always admired. “Sara canceled the wedding with Paolo. She didn’t want to bring a child into their marriage,” Liliana continued. The timbre of her voice shifted for the second sentence, telling me it wasn’t the truth.

“And he didn’t want me anymore.”

My eyes darted to Sara, who hovered in the doorway. She wore jeans and a sweater that hid her belly, not that there would be a belly at this point, but I still couldn’t stop staring.

“That’s not what he said,” her mother said gently. In the past two weeks, I had waited for Paolo to confront me in some way. If someone had hurt my fiancée, I would have gone to him and probably killed him.

Sara let out a sigh. “Not in those words, but his eyes said it all. I don’t want someone to marry me out of pity.”

She slowly came into the room, looking exhausted and pale, with dark circles under her big eyes.

I had trouble keeping up with all the revelations, but my instincts told me what to do. “I want to take responsibility and help you raise the child. I realize it’s not something you’ll want, but we could marry to give the baby a family.”

Sara’s expression made me feel like an idiot. How could I suggest she marry me after what I’d done?

I cleared my throat and got up. “I earn enough money to provide for you and the child without a marriage.”

“I don’t want a marriage out of pity,” she said quietly. She avoided looking at my face, her gaze always hovering somewhere on my throat.

“I don’t feel pity.” It was mostly true. I usually didn’t feel pity, and my feelings toward Sara were dominated by burning-hot guilt.

“I can attest to his pitiless nature,” Flavio said bitterly.

My stomach tightened, but my face remained impassive. I knew what I was and what my talents were.

“We discussed this with Sara, and she thinks a marriage between you and her would be the best solution in this difficult situation,” Romero said. His tight tone told me he didn’t agree.

I searched Sara’s face. It was controlled, but her eyes brimmed with hurt.

I hadn’t considered getting married anytime soon, much less becoming a father, but I had to redeem myself however I could. Under different circumstances, marrying a beautiful and respected woman like Sara would have been a jackpot. Now, our marriage would be a constant reminder of my sin, which was exactly what I deserved.

“I’ll do whatever you think is best for you and the baby, Sara.”

“I don’t know what’s best. I don’t even want this baby. I mean—” Despair filled her face. She shook her head, self-hatred twisting her features. Whatever she felt was valid. I wished I had the words to tell her that, but I wasn’t a talker. “Excuse me.” She turned on her heel and left.

I got it. Carrying my child must be hard for her, a constant reminder of what happened. I admired her strength and dreaded how much more of it she would have to gather to get through a pregnancy and years of raising the child.

“She wants to keep it. It’s just a lot to take in,” Liliana explained, then she followed her daughter.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to go after her but knew my presence was unwelcome. Sara didn’t need my consolation.

“What do you have in mind? What next?” I asked instead.

“Everything is planned for Sara’s wedding to Paolo in six weeks. We would like to keep the date.”

“And just switch the groom,” I said.

Romero nodded. “It’s not ideal.”

“Fuck, it’s a shit show. Everything that has happened. But if this helps Sara, I’ll even wear Paolo’s suit. I don’t care. My feelings won’t be hurt by this.”

“Paolo’s suit would be three sizes too small for you,” Flavio muttered.

“Many people know what happened even though Luca made it very clear that he disapproves of gossip making the rounds,” Romero said.

“People will gossip no matter what. Eventually, they’ll move on,” I said. “I’ll shut up whoever I overhear saying something.”

“Good.”

“I realize I’m not the son-in-law you wanted, but I’ll do everything I can to be a good husband for Sara.”

Flavio scoffed but didn’t say anything.

Did he think I didn’t know I was the wrong man for Sara for more reasons than I cared to admit?

“It’s not you, it’s about circumstances.” Romero approached me and touched my shoulder, surprising me with the move. “I think Sara wants to protect her honor and the unborn child. She doesn’t really want a husband.”

I smiled bitterly. “I know this marriage will be on paper only. I don’t expect Sara to act like a wife.”

If Romero worried that I might want to consummate the marriage, he didn’t need to. I would never touch Sara again unless she wanted me to, and the chances of that happening were nil.

“That’s good. We should make the announcement as soon as possible.”

“Let me talk to my parents first, so they won’t find out through the gossip mill, and then you can pick a time and place where you want to announce it.”

I left without talking to Sara again. Everything felt surreal. My life had turned upside down. I needed to talk to someone. Primo had left for a mission soon after I’d left home, and this wasn’t a topic I wanted to discuss over the phone. I considered going to Amo, but he had a lot on his plate with Cressida.

When I pulled up the driveway to my parents’ house, I felt a sense of relief. I parked in the driveway and was immediately greeted by Bacon. He was almost deaf, a fate many white dogs shared. When I had to work too much, my parents took care of him, and I never took him into the city with me. I rarely slept there anyway, and if I did, I slept in one of the rooms the Famiglia had for soldiers from out of town. What would happen now that I was going to marry Sara? I would have to look for a place for us, but I wasn’t sure if I could take Bacon with me. He needed company, and here, he always had plenty. After I’d petted him and the four dogs belonging to my parents that were allowed to roam free, I walked toward the front door. Mom was already waiting in the doorway. She was in gym clothes, and her sweaty hair was in a messy bun atop her head.

The moment she saw my face, she came out to meet me. She touched my cheek and tilted her head back to look at me. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically. I didn’t want her to worry about me. I could take care of myself. “Only hungry.”

I walked inside, followed by Mom. She still regarded me with worry as she put everything for a sandwich on the table. I sat on the bench and grabbed two slices of bread.

She watched me prepare and eat two BLTs in silence but never took her eyes off me as she leaned against the kitchen island.

“I’ll marry Sara,” I said after I’d taken a swig of water.

Mom’s eyes widened, and she sank down on the chair across from me. “That’s why they wanted to see you?”

“They didn’t talk me into marriage. I was the one who suggested it when I found out that Sara is pregnant.”

Mom leaned back in her chair. Her lips parted, but no words left her mouth for at least a minute. “Okay.” She blinked. “Wow. That’s not what I expected.”

She pushed to her feet and began pacing the kitchen, rubbing her forehead as if she could feel a headache coming. “This is a lot to take in for the both of you. How is Sara handling it?”

“I didn’t get the chance to talk to her alone. But she’s…” I blew out a breath, not sure what to say.

Mom nodded. “And you?” The compassion in her eyes annoyed me. I wasn’t the victim here.

“I’m doing whatever’s necessary to make up for my sin.”

“Max—”

I raised my palm. “Don’t. You’re my mother. You’d find an excuse for every crime that I’d commit.”

“No, I would not,” she seethed, her eyes flashing with anger. “But you and Sara were both victims in this.”

I got up, frustrated. “I’m not the victim. I wasn’t hurt.”

“Yes, you were! You were forced to do something sexual you didn’t want to do. You’re a victim.”

Was she blind to the fucking truth? “I’m not a fucking victim, so stop calling me one. I’m a fucking rapist.”

Mom blanched. “You’re not! That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and you’re not stupid, Maximus, so stop saying it. I’m sure if you talk to Sara, you’ll see that she doesn’t see you that way.”

“She can’t even look at me.”

“That doesn’t mean she blames you. She has a lot to deal with.”

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’m marrying her in six weeks, so that’s what I need to focus on.”

I hadn’t slept all night. My life had taken a drastic U-turn in the past few weeks. Suddenly, I was engaged, soon to be married and a father. Fuck, I still lived at home. My parents’ house was big enough, and that way, I’d always been able to help with the shelter. Now that I was going to marry, I needed my own place—I needed a place for a family. I knew of a few Famiglia-owned apartments on the market, but I’d always dreamed about living in a house outside of the city like my parents did.

What did Sara want? I hardly knew anything about her. If we’d been promised in the usual fashion, I would have asked her what she wanted, but talking to her wasn’t as easy as that.

But I needed to act quickly. The wedding was soon. That didn’t leave much time for my house hunt.

When I came down to the kitchen, Mom, Dad, and Primo were gathered around the table. “War council?” I asked sarcastically. One look at their faces told me they’d been talking about me.

“You’re jumping in for the discarded groom, hmm?” Primo asked.

“Not your problem.” He meant well. For some reason, he seemed to think he needed to protect me. I wasn’t the victim here. “It’s the best solution for a very shitty situation.”

Primo shrugged. “I’m sure it’s meant to keep the waves of gossip down, but a move like that will create a tsunami.”

“We’ll deal with it,” Dad said firmly.

Mom motioned to the breakfast casserole on the table. “Soon, things will calm down.”

“I need to find a place for Sara and me…and the baby once it’s born.”

Mom nodded solemnly. “I know. Have you talked to Sara about it?”

“Not yet. There wasn’t much time last night.” I wondered how to approach the matter. I dreaded how awkward things would be between us once we lived together. I’d give Sara as much room as she needed, but we’d still live under the same roof. People would gossip even worse if we didn’t. I didn’t really give a damn about anyone’s opinion, but Sara obviously did.

“I should buy her a ring. She can’t wear her old engagement ring anymore,” I said.

“Do you want me to help you pick one?” Mom asked, her face alight with hope. She’d probably hoped she could help me organize my wedding, but Paolo’s mother and Liliana had already done so.

“I don’t know what Sara likes. Do you?”

Mom bit her lip. “I can ask Gianna. She knows her better than me. That okay for you?”

“You think Gianna knows about this already?” Primo asked doubtfully.

“Romero didn’t make this decision without discussing it with Luca, and if Luca knows, Aria knows, and then Gianna knows,” Mom said with an amused look.

Dad gave a silent nod. “Your mom has great taste. Let her help you.”

“I know, and I will,” I said, more to make Mom happy.

Mom immediately called Gianna, who suggested we take Isabella with us.

I wasn’t sure how close Isabella and Sara were. Were they best friends? I always thought Valerio, Flavio, and Isabella were close, which didn’t really make me feel more at ease. Flavio had probably shared his dislike of me with his friends. I’d never had a problem with people disliking me. Many of the things I did on a daily basis made me unlikable, but the reason for Flavio’s dislike wasn’t something I was proud of.

Mom and I picked up Isabella at their apartment building in the early afternoon. Isabella gave me a brief smile before she climbed into the back seat. It had seemed honest. We headed toward the jeweler that Isabella suggested. Apparently, it was the jeweler Aria, Gianna, and Liliana got their jewelry from, which meant I’d have to use a huge chunk of the money I’d intended to use for buying a house. I earned good money as an Enforcer, especially if I did the occasional contract killing, but I’d enjoyed life as a single person without too much thought of the future. If I’d known I’d marry this soon, I would have put more money aside.

Mom and Isabella immediately began to scan the displays in the shop while I stood somewhat lost in the center. The only time I’d been at a jeweler was when I’d bought myself my dream watch, a Rolex Submariner.

“This looks beautiful,” Mom gushed as she pointed at something in the glass cabinet in front of her.

Isabella joined her and perused the display. She nodded thoughtfully. “Sara doesn’t like anything too obvious.”

I finally joined them. The jeweler took out three pieces that both my mom and Isabella agreed on.

Isabella leveled a serious gaze on me. “I think it’s good that you’re showing Sara you want to make an effort. I don’t think she expects you to give her a ring. It’s a great gesture. But things will still be hard. Nothing about this is ideal.”

I gave her a sardonic smile. “Oh, I know. I know nothing about this will be easy, and I know it won’t be a normal marriage.”

I wondered what Sara had told her. Isabella didn’t seem to hate me, so Sara couldn’t have said too much.