The Fabrizio Bride

Chapter Eleven

"Married?" Ana Lisa asked, hope lightening her expression. "But what about that other man?"

Sarika embraced her godmother and glanced into Rafe's stunned face. She could relate. "It's a long story. Come sit with me, and I'll explain." They settled on the couch. Why did Rafe appear so shocked? It was what he wanted. He should have been ecstatic.

Unless he'd changed his mind?

"Can you bring some tea?" she asked.

He nodded and rushed from the study, returning seconds later. "It's coming."

With a loud exhale, he sat on Ana Lisa's other side. She clasped his hand. He lifted it and kissed her knuckles.

"Tell me," she said.

Sarika cleared her throat. "Zia, Rafe is the other man. We were...we are together."

"But you said this man left you?"

"He did. We—"

"We had a fight," Rafe interjected. "I was an idiot. A stupid, jealous idiot, but Sarika forgave me." He raised questioning eyes toward her.

Did she forgive him? She searched her heart for any residual anger or bitterness over his behavior the last ten months and found none, just an echo of sadness that he'd held himself back from her—still did.

Ana Lisa relaxed against the couch with a happy sigh. "How long? And why didn't you say anything?"

Sarika fudged the details. "Almost a year."

"A year?"

"We needed time to ourselves," Rafe said, "to see where the relationship would lead without any outside pressure. You understand, don't you?"

Ana Lisa closed her eyes, but a contented smile crossed her lips. "I understand. I'm an interfering old woman, and I would have made things impossible for you. But none of that matters now." Her lids rose, and incandescent joy shone within. "You're getting married!" She raised their hands to her mouth and kissed each one, admiring Sarika's engagement ring in the process. "You must have twice as many babies to make up for the grandchildren I expected from both of you."

Rafe smiled and snagged Sarika's gaze. Heat bloomed in his eyes. "That can be arranged."

Desire surged through her, and the idea of having Rafe's child filled her with anticipation.

Then the reality of what she'd done sank in. She was getting married—to a man who wanted her but couldn't even say he loved her.

Did that matter? They could build a good life together, and maybe, in time, he'd open up. Or maybe they'd be exactly as they were now their entire lives. Could she accept that?

She had no choice. It was her doing. Rafe had taken the blame, shouldered responsibility for their actions—until she'd stepped in and changed everything.

"You must marry as soon as possible," Ana Lisa said. "And you must promise to be chaste with one another until after the wedding." Her tone brooked no argument.

Rafe frowned. "Really, Nonna, don't you think—"

"Rafael, your promise. Sarika deserves better."

Sarika's eyes widened as she watched the two Fabrizios face off, equally stubborn, equally used to getting their own way. Even so, she had no doubt who would win.

"We're not children," he grated.

"No, you're a man who should honor and respect his betrothed enough to wait."