Boom!

The cork of the champagne bottle shoots up toward the ceiling, and Giovanni swears as he runs across the room to catch it, not spilling a drop of the bubbly liquid he just opened. Well, unless the foam gushing out the top counts.

“Accidenti, Giovanni, can’t save it for the reception?” I shout at Giovanni in Italian as he catches the cork triumphantly, holding it up for the other groomsmen to see. “If you don’t keep steady during the vows, I’ll kick your ass.”

We laugh, but honestly, I couldn’t care less if he was trashed—this is the happiest day of my life, and nothing could change that.

I’m wearing a jet-black fitted tuxedo, minus the coat, and all the men are helping me get ready. Nico, my best man, is helping me with the bowtie in front of a large mirror.

“It’s not for me,” says Giovanni, “I’ve got a few bottles I’m gonna give out in glasses to the guests when they get here. Real fancy, I saw someone do it on TV.”

Nico and I exchange a grin, and I catch sight of my dad chuckling behind me in the mirror.

“Well, what’s one bottle among a few groomsmen? None for the groom, though—I’ve got a bottle of your mother’s limoncello we’re going to get into at the reception,” he says, wagging a finger, and I grin at him.

My own wedding. I never thought I’d see this day in a million years, and I’m even more stunned that my parents are able to see it. My mom is off with Luisa fussing over Serena and helping her get ready.

The past few months have been a storm, though, and this may technically be the calm after the storm, the energy definitely hasn’t settled down.

I killed Don Abruzzi that night. He wasn’t the only monster in that household I dealt with that night, either. The whole of the Bronx’s underworld took a massive hit thanks to me, and since then, the remnants of the Cleaners and their allies have been broken, weak, and driven into hiding.

Finally, definitively, the Cleaners are finished, and the last nail is in the Abruzzi coffin.

Abruzzi was right, too—if I wanted to, I could step into this power vacuum and become the most feared man in this side of New York.

But that’s not me. It never has been, and it never will be. I’ve gotten a taste of what it means to have family, to risk losing it, the joy of building it. It won’t be too long before I’ll know what it’s like to raise one with Serena.

The thought makes my heart swell.

“Careful, Dad, these Americans might not have as much restraint as you,” I say as Nico finishes with my bowtie and pats me on the shoulder.

“Damn, Bruno, you clean up alright,” Nico admits, admiring the outfit as I do the same.

“Yeah yeah, you had your chance with me,” I joke with him, ribbing him in the side while he play-punches at me like we’re a couple of boys fighting in the yard again.

My phone buzzes, and while I check it, my dad glances around at all the assembled men, some of them still getting their outfits ready while others like Giovanni...well, wander around making trouble.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Almost,” I answer my dad after looking at my phone, grinning broadly. “Last one just showed up.”

“Oh, another one of your friends?” he asks, and I nod for him to follow me.

“Someone you’ll want to meet,” I say, leading him to the door of the chapel. He follows me with a happy but confused face until I push the door open. When he looks down the steps of the chapel, he looks like he’s about to faint.

Uncle Carlo climbs out of a cab, leaning on a cane and giving a mile-wide grin up to my father.

“...Carlo,” my father breathes, his voice weak. “Carlo!” Hurrying as much as an older man can, he hobbles down the stairs as my uncle’s grin breaks into warm laughter, and as soon as the two men are together, they throw their arms around each other in a warm hug, their voices breaking as they laugh.

“Mio fratello!” Carlo nearly sobs into his brother’s arms, and the two begin talking to each other in rapid Italian in low tones, their eyes as full of tears as of emotions.

News of Carlo’s recovery had been a huge relief to all of us, but when I heard my parents could make it, I wanted to make sure the reunion was worthwhile and I managed to avoid the subject of Carlo and keep the surprise.

I was a little worried the surprise would give my dad a heart attack, but the two of them are more hardy than I was worried. They almost look young again.

Nico appears at my side. “Damn, you don’t see the resemblance until they’re together again, huh?”

“I know. They’ve lived worlds apart for a long time. They’ll have...a great deal to catch up on,” I say, putting it lightly and flashing Nico a smile. “Come on, let’s leave them to it. We’ve got a wedding to finish setting up.”

* * *

Even though it’s barely a couple hours later, it feels like an eternity of waiting, but at last, everyone is gathered together and ready for the ceremony as the music starts.

All across the room, faces are glowing with anticipation. The sides could hardly look more different, too. On the one side are Serena’s family and friends. Of course, because of everything that happened with her father, it’s only her mother’s family that’s represented, but they’re all there and looking beautiful. Dark skin and light hair seems to run in the family, and they could practically be cousins to the other side of the family. My southern Italian family is on the swarthy side, and good god, are there a lot of them.

There are cousins and second cousins and third cousins, many with their families, thanks to me being able to help some of them over. Turns out I even have a few distant relatives already in America who immigrated separately. The whole chapel is as Italian-American as it could be.

Then the doors open, and I’m genuinely struck dumb as the music starts.

Serena looks downright angelic. Her dress is a lovingly intricate pattern of lace at the top, and from the hips down the center of her legs, the pure-white fabric is smooth as fresh snow on a mountainside with two tresses of fluffier fabric down the sides of her legs like wispy clouds. Her beauty is ethereal, and the long golden hair curling down her shoulders is like a crown to it all.

But her face is what draws my attention. I’ve seen Serena’s face through good times and bad times, lying beside her in bed and running from life-threatening danger. I’ve seen it weeping bitter tears, and I’ve seen it beaming with real, true happiness.

But when I look at it now, I see all that glowing bright in that one expression, bound up together. Of course, I can’t help the stupid grin that crosses my face, and as she sees me, her face does the same.

Rafaela is her maid of honor, watching her approach proudly, and Nico on my side is nearly in tears. Luisa stands nearby, holding our newborn baby son, healthy and strong, who’ll one day have the strength of his father and the courage and heart of his mother. Luisa’s tears flow much more freely down her beaming smile.

I’ve heard some people say that watching your bride come down the aisle toward you is like seeing a new person, starting a new life with them as a new pair of people, building something from the ground up together.

With Serena coming toward me, I feel nothing like that.

I see the girl I fell in love with on that old construction site. I see the woman I reconnected with after what felt like a lifetime. I see the face that greeted me when I broke out of prison and endured so much without me. I see my lover, who fought to make it through a world that’s been lined up against both of us since we were teenagers.

Soon, Serena is standing in front of me, her eyes wet with tears, and when I blink, I realize mine are too.

The minister doesn’t even have to start speaking for us to know that we’re already in this together forever—we always have been, through the good times and the easy times, and with all the worry and danger behind us at long last, nothing can shake that ever again.

We’ll always be bound for life.