Page 42 of Forever King

I see immediately I’m right. Her face changes into that sort of smug, sort of irritated expression I’ve seen so many times in my life, and I know that’s the problem.

Marius King isn’t the Sicilian boy she always dreamed I’d marry. It’s the twenty-first century, and still my mother is focused on things like a man’s family line.

“He’s not only not Sicilian. He’s not even Italian, Eden! I don’t even know what the Kings are,” she says with pure exasperation.

I can’t help her with the nationality details of the Kings since I never thought to ask. I fell in love with a man, not a bloodline.

“Mom, he’s a good man who gives me everything I want and need. He’s an incredible father to our daughter. We live in abeautiful house, and I and your granddaughter want for nothing. Does it really matter that his family came from somewhere else hundreds of years ago?”

Quietly, almost as if she knows she’s made a mistake all this time, she answers, “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter, and I’m glad you agree. I want you and Dad to enjoy yourselves at the wedding, but we have to trim that guest list. I also don’t plan on having Lily in the ceremony. I know you said that would be nice, but she’s too young.”

My words hang in the air between us as she says nothing. I know it’s hard for my mother to accept, but I’m a grown woman now. I can’t be responsible for her happiness, even though I would never want to hurt her.

Softly, she says, “Okay.”

I have something to make her feel better, though. I saved it for last knowing I, like my father, always make sure to smooth things over after disappointing her.

“But we like your idea of an ice sculpture, so we’re going with that. Thank you for suggesting it.”

Her eyes grow wide again, but this time in excitement. “And the whiskey sour fountain? Will you say yes to that?”

Inwardly, I cringe at that idea, but I don’t actually know if Marius hates it since he’s never listed that as one of the issues he has with her suggestions. For now, I won’t completely shoot it down until I find out how he feels.

“I don’t know, but let me talk to Marius, okay?”

Her happiness dims a little, but she doesn’t seem to be completely defeated. “That’s fair. Tell him people like to drink at weddings. That may convince him.”

“Mom, we’re having a full bar with bartenders. People can get their drinks from them.”

It doesn’t matter, though, because she doesn’t hear me since she’s already up on her feet and hurrying into the house to getme pictures of a fountain she saw at a wedding last spring. Like usual, my mother’s brain has settled on an idea, and that’s that.

I’m taking today as a win, though. I successfully explained to my mother what I want for my wedding, and she didn’t explode like Mount Vesuvius, as my father thought she would.

That’s a win in anybody’s book.

15

Marius

My hands won’t stop shaking,which seems strange since although today is my wedding day, I’m already married to Duck. Why the hell am I so nervous?

“Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick,” Ronan says, chuckling at me.

I hold out my hand to show him how unsteady I am at the moment. “It seems the answer is no. I’m not sure what’s going on with me.”

“Wedding jitters,” he answers confidently. “Remember how I was on my wedding day? Kate and I knew each other for years and had lived together for a while, and I still looked like I was going to either puke or pass out right before the ceremony. Maybe it’s a family thing?”

Kellen sits in the chair near the window in my old bedroom at Matthias’s house listening to us and rolling his eyes. “What has happened to you guys? All this talk of being nervous. You’ve been with these women for ages. What the hell are you so nervous about?”

The three of us look over at him and frown. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, shithead,” I snap, clearly overreacting to his stupid comments.

Matthias ignores him and focuses on me instead. “Forget Kellen. He never understands anyway. You’re nervous because it’s a big deal. You’ve got hundreds of guests downstairs in the yard, an ice sculpture on the patio that’s never going to make it through this day, and a fountain with booze near it that’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”

That breaks the tension in the room, and we all laugh. “That’s my concession to my mother-in-law. It seems that’s the trade-off Eden chose because her mother was upset I’m not Sicilian.”

My brothers look at me strangely, which I understand since I’ve never said something so odd, so I explain, “It seems there was a problem in her mind that I’m not the same nationality as Eden and her family. What are we anyway?”