Page 172 of The Temptation

I swear, these Cosa Nostra men and their hang-ups about baby boys in dresses. You’d think masculinity was that fragile the way they’re carrying on.

Romeo just shoots Alexander a look. “Apparently, it’s tradition.”

“You do realise I have two boys, and neither of them wore dresses when they were christened.” Alexander’s eyes move to me. “You were at Luca’s Christening, Lucia, you should’ve known that.”

My husband shoots me a look that clearly says,“What the fuck, Lucia!”

I smile sweetly and shrug.

“But plenty do,” Chloe chimes in, swooping in to save me. “I think he looks adorable. Look at that sweet little face,” she coos, leaning in to gently skim the tip of her finger over Gabe’s cheek.

I’m currently inside the marquee, speaking with Maria, the person in charge of catering, who’s giving me the final rundown on what will be served and when.

Dante was gracious enough to lend us his chefs and wait staff from one of his restaurants to handle the food for today.

My husband is up at the house, changing our son into“Something blue that has pants!”His words, not mine.

The rest of our guests have gathered on the grass outside the marquee, chatting easily while the staff move through the crowd, serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

The interior of the marquee is nothing short of stunning. Soft white drapes line the ceiling, gathered in the centre around a crystal chandelier that catches the light and scatters it like stars across the room.

Tables are dressed in crisp ivory linen, each one adorned with cascading floral centrepieces of cream roses, eucalyptus, and pale-blue hydrangeas that match the theme. A huge, three-tiered cake sits on a table off to the side. Is it over the top for some? Probably yes, but Italians are known for their fanfare. Well, the ones I know are.

Romeo went along with whatever I suggested. I think he just loves that his little boy is going to have everything he didn’t.

I glance towards the entrance when someone appears out of my peripheral vision, seeing it’s Father Flannery. He gives me a look like he needs to talk, so I excuse myself and head in his direction.

“Father,” I say when I come to a stop in front of him.

“Lucia, is Romeo around?”

“He’s up in the house changing Gabe. Is there something I can help you with?”

“It’s about this,” he says, pulling a rather fat white envelope from the inner pocket of his black suit. “It’s too much, I can’t accept this.”

He tries to hand it to me, so I push it back in his direction.

“It’s customary to give the priest a donation after he performs a service, is it not?”

“Not this much.” He lifts the flap of the envelope and fans his fingers over the ridiculous amount of hundred-dollar bills. “There’s ten thousand dollars in here.”

A smile curves my lips. Romeo told me he’d take care of the donation, but I had no idea he planned on giving him this much.

“Please take it,” I say. “Romeo obviously wanted you to have it. You’ll offend him if you try to give it back.”

Father Flannery shakes his head gently, still looking at the envelope like it might bite. “I don’t need this much money; the Church makes sure I have everything I need.”

I want to bring up that heap of shit he’d been driving around until Romeo bought him a new car, but I don’t.

“I know,” I say softly. “But maybe this isn’t about need. Maybe it’s about gratitude.”

“Gratitude for what?”

“For being there for him when he was young. For being a steady hand and a kind voice when he needed it most. You selflessly gave that little boy so much when he had nothing.”

“I gave him my time, that’s all.”

“For a kid like him, that meant more than anything of monetary value.”