Papa cleared his throat and added, "I'm going to hold Mama to the lack of micromanaging part." Everyone laughed, cutting some of the tension. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I'm taking her to dinner in Vail. Marco and Angelina, please pardon our lack of hospitality, but I'm sure you young folks have a lot to plot and plan, and we'd just be in the way. Marco, maybe you can teach your sister and brother not to take work so seriously, too. I don't want them to put off living as long as Mama and I have."

Marc stared dumbfounded, floored at Papa's words. Despite all that had happened this year, he had never felt more accepted by his family than today.

All because of the amazing woman at his side. What did he plan to do to make sure she never left that place?

At the outskirts of Denver, Marc steered the Porsche off I-70 and south onto Highway 470. "We're taking a detour. There's someone I want to introduce you to."

Angelina marveled at the newest change in Marc since leaving his parents nearly three hours ago. Small wonder. Everything unfolded so quickly, as if Mama and everyone had just been waiting for the chance to expose all the secrets and lies to the light. Catharsis.

"Marc, I can understand now how lying didn't seem like a problem to you when we met. I don't see how your family kept all the various versions of the truth straight. Your life was built on one lie after another."

"I had the best of intentions. I never meant to hurt you in any way."

"No, I'm not trying to rehash anything. That's water under the bridge. I'm just making an observation. Your family's lies were laced with good intentions, too, but look at all the pain they brought you and Mama especially. Honesty is so much healthier."

"No argument there."

They drove on several miles in silence. The snow-covered peaks made her think of Luke. With all that had happened in the past few days, she had barely given a thought to him. The last time she'd spoken with Cassie, she sounded at the end of her rope. If they didn't get Luke down from there soon... But he didn't sound as if he should be moved too quickly, even if they could get through the snowpack to reach him.

She looked out the window at passing countryside she didn't recognize. Curiosity got the better of her. "Who did you say you're taking me to meet?"

"I didn't say." She glanced at him, but he didn't smile. "You'll guess before we arrive, if I don't chicken out. Observe your surroundings, pet."

When he exited onto Highway 285, a route she sometimes took between Denver and Aspen Corners, the scenery became a little more familiar, but she had no clue where he was taking her. He exited onto Sheridan and still she didn't know...and then she saw the first rows of white military tombstones. Tears came to her eyes, and she pressed her finger against suddenly trembling lips.

Gino.

Dio. He was taking her to meet his brother. In all the time she'd known Marc, he'd never visited, as far as she knew. She glanced over at him.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I think it's time I had a long overdue talk with Gino about some things." Marc cleared his throat. "I haven't been out here since we buried him, so we'll have to stop by the office for help locating his grave."

Angelina reached out and stroked his forearm, causing him to release one hand from the wheel to grip her hand. She felt him trembling and squeezed his tighter.

Half an hour later, with their map in hand, Angelina navigated Marc through the cemetery to the place marked with an X. Her heart beat so loudly, he had to hear.

"I think it's that row," she told him, pointing. Marc pulled the Porsche as far to the right as he could and turned off the ignition. He sat and stared at the rows of tombstones for a few moments. "Would you like me to give you a moment alone?"

Marc paused and then said, "If you don't mind..."

Angelina had no clue what Marc was going through. She'd never be able to stand at the grave of one of her brothers-ever.

"No, I changed my mind. I would like you to be with me, if you think you can."

That he wanted her there warmed her heart. "You know I'll do whatever you need me to do, Marc."

Please, God, let me be strong for him.

He sighed heavily and opened the door. She waited for him to come around to her door, trying to collect her thoughts and shore up her courage. The crumpled map fell to the floor. From here on, they would walk until they found Gino's final resting place.

When the door opened, he reached in. "Watch your step. There are some slippery spots."

Clasping her hand, Marc led her down the row. She knew from having memorized the map they would have to walk about halfway down the hill before they needed to start scanning tombstones for names. She scoured the names and dates, seeing some of the more recent and familiar combat zones named-Gulf War, Iraq, Desert Storm, Operation Enduring Freedom, sometimes shown as Afghanistan. How devastating for so many families who lost loved ones. A deep sorrow came over Angelina knowing how profoundly the loss of one Marine had affected Marc's family.

Her mind became numb to so much death and devastation until Marc's hand halted her steps. She focused on the stone to his left. No recognition. Not his. Then the next one...

Gino Z. D'Alessio PFC US Marine Corps Afghanistan Purple Heart October 5, 1974 February 24, 2002 Angelina remembered seeing Gino's name on a tattooed memorial on Adam's back after he'd been attacked by the cougar. His loss had been felt beyond his family. She blessed herself and said a silent prayer for Gino's soul to find rest and peace in God's perpetual light. Marc had a death grip on her hand, but she merely held on. He remained silent. She hated to intrude on his moment of reflection, so she continued to stare at the grave. Gino had died on Damian's birthday. She wondered if one of the reasons things had come to a head that night was that Marc was remembering the loss of his beloved big brother.

Marc released a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob before he dropped to his knees onto Gino's grave.

"I'm so sorry, Gino. Please forgive me."

Angelina knelt beside him, feeling the cold wet ground seep through her tights and not caring. She wrapped her arms around Marc, holding him as he sobbed for his brother. Tears fell down her cheeks, chilled by the cold wind that whipped up the hillside all of the sudden.

"Shhh. He's forgiven you, Marc. Big brothers understand."

Racking sobs poured out of him. "Let go, Marc. I have you." She cried for Marc; no one should have to bury a sibling. She cried for Gino; the man had died saving lives, sacrificing his own so a fellow Marine could return home to his wife and baby.

Sometime later, Marc reached out to touch the stone. His fingers traced the letters of Gino's name, taking special care to slow down over the name they shared.

"He didn't have a drop of Mama or Papa's blood and yet proudly took their name, knowing full well he was adopted his whole life." Marc paused a moment before continuing. "If I needed any more proof that blood didn't matter, all I had to do was look at the way Gramps, Mama, Papa-hell, the entire D'Alessio family-treated Gino as one of their own. Papa did the same with me from the earliest memories I have. Until New Year's, I had no inkling Papa wasn't my birth father. But Papa loved Gino and me no less than he loved his own biological children."

Angelina listened as more of the pieces came together for Marc.

"I've spent months trying to figure out if I'm a D'Alessio or a Solari-figuring out who the hell I was." He sank back on the heels of his shoes, breaking contact with the stone and resting his hand on his thigh. Angelina stroked his arm, hoping to coax him to share more without intruding on his grief.

Marc turned to Angelina. "At Christmas, your family showed me what it's like to be from a close-knit, demonstrative family. I envied you and your brothers the connection you have. Despite some tensions, the love you have for each other came through loud and clear."

Angelina nodded. "I wouldn't trade my brothers for anyone, even though there are times when I have to keep my distance from them; otherwise, they'll smother me alive."

Marc's gaze returned to the stone. "There was a time when I didn't even claim that I knew Gino, much less that we were brothers. I was so angry." Tears poured unheeded down his cheeks again. Thank God he was finally able to express emotion over his loss. Angelina had no doubt he'd stood on this spot back in 2002 and watched as his brother was laid to rest with a mixture of remorse and hatred for what Gino had done with Melissa.

"But so many things are clearer to me now. We might not have been the kind of brothers who hugged a lot, but he always protected and loved me, probably since the time I invaded his family out of nowhere."

Angelina smiled. "Somehow I think having you as a brother did Gino a lot of good."

Marc remained silent a moment. "Do you really think he forgave me for shutting him out for the rest of his life?"

Angelina nodded. "I'm sure Gino learned very quickly what was important in life when he joined the Marines and deployed to Afghanistan. I have no doubt the two of you would have figured out what Melissa was really after given time."

"He was in-country only a short while, a line replacement for some casualties in Adam's unit. Despite that, Adam said he served honorably and with distinction. He died a hero. Remember Staff Sergeant Anderson?"

"Yes, I met him and his family at Karla's wedding. Gino saved his life."

Marc nodded and stared at the tombstone in silence.

"Marc, I think what's most important is that you eventually come to forgive yourself."

He closed his eyes. "I don't think I can."

"Your responses to what happened back then were normal for a young man not terribly experienced with women."

Marc sighed.

"We all make mistakes, Marc, especially when we're young. Gino and you would have shared a bottle of wine toasting your good fortune at having gotten rid of her."

Marc almost laughed at the image. She was happy she could help him picture what that reunion might have been like. "Most of us have time to remedy our misjudgments. You and Gino didn't have that luxury, but until you make peace with him and accept the fact that he just made a stupid mistake, I don't think you are going to find peace within yourself."

Marc didn't say anything. She hoped her words would convey to him the need to forgive and move on.

A blast of wind hit them, and Marc stood and helped her up, pulling her closer when she began shivering. She hadn't dressed for this visit, but thanked God Marc had brought her here.

"I need to get you back in the car, but first..." He paused a moment and cleared his throat. "Gino Zirilli D'Alessio, this is long overdue, but I'd like you to meet my girl, Angelina Cristina Giardano."

She'd wondered what the Z stood for. Zirilli. The maiden name of two complicated sisters who had mothered two equally complicated brothers, Marco and Gino.

"It's a great honor to meet you, Gino. Thank you for getting your brother off the hook of that b...creature Melissa. I can't tell you how much I personally appreciate you for rescuing him from her clutches, so he would be ready for me when we met."

Marc turned toward her, and she looked up at him. "Thank you. I needed that kick in the ass right about now."

"I know." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"Brat."

"Always. Your brat. Don't you ever forget it."

For the first time since they'd come here, Marc grinned. "I'm not sure I could ever have prepared for you. Angelina, you came charging into my life like gangbusters. I'll never be the same-thank God."

Chapter Thirty.

Damian paced across the floor for the tenth time and glanced at the wall clock over the arched doorway.

Marc chuckled. "Two minutes since the last time you looked. Stop worrying. Savannah's not going to leave you standing at the altar."

"I know that."

"Then why are you so nervous?"

Who the hell knew? He certainly had no hesitation about marrying Savannah. The two of them were perfect for each other. He couldn't believe at this very moment she was standing on the other side of San Miguel's Church, preparing to walk down the aisle and into his life-forever.

How'd he ever come to deserve someone like her-or Marisol?

He shot his gaze to the case on the bench across the room, and his heart pounded harder. Why was he so fucking nervous? She'd seen his stump. She'd accept his decision to do this, probably would ask what the fuck had taken him so long to get there. But that was for later, at the reception.

His polished dress shoe pinched his foot, but he wanted a formal Marine wedding. The Corps had saved his life in a lot of ways. He'd enlisted as a lost kid with no direction in his life and come out a man forever changed by the events in Fallujah. The men and women he served with had saved him, too, when he'd thought life was no longer worth living. Many of them were a part of his family now.

"You all right, man?"

Damian glanced up at Marc and nodded. For the first time in years, he did feel all right and knew what he had to do. He sat on the bench and reached for the case opening the lid. Inside lay his new prosthetic blade. He'd planned to wear it for dancing at the reception. The thing hurt like hell if he had to stand still on it for long periods. But on this very special occasion, he had a point to prove-to both Savannah and Marisol. No more hiding and pretending. He'd only been hiding from himself. Savannah, his daughter, and his friends loved and accepted him just the way he was. He needed to accept himself, too. His body would never be whole or perfect again. He had to live with some limitations.

Today, he wasn't just binding himself before God to his beautiful Savannah, he would be deepening the bond with his beautiful daughter, also. When he asked Savannah and Marisol to make him a permanent part of their lives, he wanted to do so honestly. No more pretending. No more secrets.

Damian removed the more realistic-looking prosthetic that had enabled him to mask his disability pretty well since he'd been fitted for it in Denver all those years ago. He pulled the new blade out of the case and drew up the leg of his dress blues. Soon, he was adjusting it to the perfect fit.

Just the way his girls were a perfect fit in his life. Mierda, they were his life. His very blessed life.

He stood up and tested his weight by bouncing on it a couple of times, as he'd done in the physical therapist's office at the VA where he'd picked it up last week. All week, he'd been trying to decide when he should wear it, but something always held him back.

Checking the clock again-twenty minutes before the ceremony would begin-he turned to Marc, one of his padrinos de boda and his best man, who had tears in his eyes.

Fuck that shit. Maybe he shouldn't do this.

"'Bout damned time."

"Don't fuck me up today. I'm not going to bawl like a baby in front of Savannah and Marisol."

Marc grinned. "Nothing wrong with a man showing emotion. I can make you an honorary Italian today if you want."

Fuck. Damian felt the tears burning the backs of his eyes. No way in hell would he shed them. "Thanks for standing beside me, Doc. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't stuck by me after Fallujah until you finally got through to me..."

"I think Adam's the one who finally got through that thick skull of yours."

Damian shook his head. "Dad wouldn't have known I was having adjustment problems if you hadn't called him out to Balboa."

Marc opened his mouth as if to argue but smiled instead. "I think we all rescued each other-well, at least to the point of survival mode-until the girls in our lives straightened out our shit."

Damian grinned. "That they did. When are you and Angelina going to make it official?"

Marc shrugged. "I'm working on it."

Before he could admonish his friend not to waste too much more time, the scent of cinnamon wafted to him and Damian glanced up at Marc. "Do you smell that?"

"What? Did you forget your deodorant?"

Damian would have told Marc to fuck off but couldn't form any words as his throat closed off. He reached down to twist his pinky ring and remembered too late it had been removed to be resized for Savannah's tiny finger. She would be the third Orlando bride to wear it. The ring had been worn by Damian since Mama died, but he knew she would be pleased to see his father's family legacy passed down to another generation. Until recently, he'd never pictured having a wife of his own-and never imagined it would be his beloved Savannah.

A tear splashed onto his hand.

I'm gonna make you proud, Mama. You, too, Papa. I'm going to give my family all the love you showed me growing up.