Free Dante by Bethany-Kris Page B

is typically sweet-natured and polite. She never outright disrespects people, even the ones she hates. And believe me, there are a few of those.”
    “ Hmm , no, you clearly don’t understand. Being your mother, she wants you to be happy.”
    “So?”
    “So, she knows I don’t make you happy, bello . Not truly. Not in the way her husband makes her happy, or the way your brothers’ wives make them happy. There is no love here between you and me, not like they have. I make her sad for you, and by default, that makes her angry with me.”
    Well, shit.
    “It really is okay, Dante,” Catrina said with a quiet sigh. “I would expect nothing different from a woman of Cecelia’s standing. Honestly, I respect her for it.”
    “ Cristo , why? That was awful, Cat.”
    “Because, she gave me her feelings face up from the start. She didn’t hide behind a mask or the civilities and courtesies of her raising. I would prefer to know where I stand with your mother right from the start rather than wonder only to be stabbed in the back later. Believe me, this is better and easier for us both.”
    Dante groaned when the doorbell to the house rang out. “Great. Let the hell begin.”
    Catrina patted his knee, smirking. “Oh, I think the rest will go much easier. And I would be willing to bet with others around, your mother will be a lot less likely to try and take a bite out of me or you. Let’s go. Time to make face.”
    After the food had long been served and Catrina was formally introduced to the most important Marcello people as Dante’s future wife, their Sunday dinner guests milled about the home. Dante relaxed with others around, surprisingly. His family and the friends of the Marcellos seemed to accept Catrina with little questions asked. Not that it was their place to.
    Leaning against the family room wall, Dante watched the snow fall in puffy drifts through the large, bay window as he drank from a tumbler half filled with vodka. He somehow managed not to turn rigid with his remaining irritation when his mother sidled in beside him.
    “I will talk to Father Peter,” Cecelia said.
    Dante tipped his glass up to sip the vodka. He wasn’t in the mood to have another argument with his mother, so he chose to fill his mouth full of alcohol instead of snapping at her like he first wanted to.
    “He should be the one to marry you, I agree.”
    “I figured you would, but given the position we’re putting him in with the shortened timeline and the fact I don’t want a traditional Mass ceremony, he might refuse and demand the deacon do the service instead.”
    “We’re Marcellos. He’s not going to refuse once I speak to him, believe me.” Cecelia frowned. “And I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”
    “Are you really or are you just being polite?” Dante asked.
    “You’re my son. It’s not required of me to be polite to you just because, Dante. You, on the other hand, are required to be respectful to me always.”
    Fair enough.
    Dante put his anger in check and gave his mother the respect he owed her. “I know you don’t approve.”
    “I don’t. I really, really don’t.”
    “I need to do this, Ma,” Dante said, shrugging. 
    Cecelia nodded in Catrina’s direction. His fiancée stood talking to a cousin of his in the family room with that sly look of hers. “She doesn’t fulfill you. You’re not doing it because you want to, but because you need to. I can’t accept and like a woman who doesn’t give you the kinds of things you should have. Things you deserve to have.”
    “I never wanted to be married in the first place, so no woman is going to give me that, Ma.”
    “Just because you can’t have children doesn’t mean you can’t have love.”
    “You’re missing the point.”
    “No, you are,” his mother replied, huffing. “I know you feel you have little to offer someone because you can’t give them certain things, but children aren’t the only thing in a marriage, Dante. I loved your