As one, we threw down the glass vase as hard as we both could. I waited for the smash, but watched in shock as the vase bounced once, then again, landing between us, utterly unharmed.

Oh my God.

My heart stuttered.

Seriously?

The roar died down until a sickening silence settled around us. I didn’t miss the single crowing laughter. How could I when it was unmistakably my sisters?

It was official. The universe was fucking with us.

As far as bad omens go, this one was pretty clear. Zero fragments meant zero years together.

I should have been overjoyed, and yet, there I stood, mildly insulted.

A quick glance at the woman who had organized it had my stomach sinking. She was clearly devastated.

The silence stretched on. I peered up at my husband to find him already looking down at me. His expression was unreadable but I could sense a certain disappointment there. Without a single thought, I slipped my hand into his and held it tight. I didn’t take my eyes off him as I lifted my high-heeled foot, got into position then brought it down over the vase.

The tinkling sound of breaking glass filled the air.

I twisted the sole of my foot, making a show of crushing it even more thoroughly.

This was not my tradition. There was no certainty in how many years a marriage was due. But I respected the gesture.

People needed hope. Without it, we were nothing.

Ettore’s fingers tightened around my own. We stood wordlessly, but I felt so much being said, especially when my husband gently lifted his large foot and stepped onto the already cracked glass before us, creating even more fragments.

I bit my lip to hide my smile.

A moment passed, then another, and I don’t know who started the applause, but I did know one thing.

Fate be damned, we created our own destiny.

My gaze firmly attached to that of the man beside me, my heart raced. I felt it coming long before he moved. Oh God. I needed it. I craved it. I was desperate for another taste of him. And when he lowered his face, I propped myself up on my tiptoes, meeting him halfway. He grunted into my mouth, breathing me in. I sighed into his, breathing him out. I cupped his rough cheek and sucked at his bottom lip. The hand at the small of my back lowered some more and then I was throbbing in places I should not have been throbbing in public.

What was it about this man that made me want him so?

Some said tension made for electric foreplay.

We kissed until we were both out of breath, until we were both dazed and confused. Until foreplay wasn’t enough.

Ettore’s voice grated when he ordered, “We’re leaving.”

I nodded, dreamily.