“Nice of you to ask.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

The Dome is so silent, my whisper sounds like a scream in my head. I look down at the bloodstains on the center stone. Some of that is mine. Some is Dario’s. A marriage created in violence that grew into love. This marriage today will be forged in peace, but there will never be love in it.

A rumble overtakes the dome. The kids look upward toward a sky that’s not there.

Every storm has a few thunderclaps loud enough to penetrate the underground chamber, and because there are no windows to reveal the weather, we forget it’s raining. It’s a little surprising every time, but not for long. We know the source of the noise is harmless.

To an outsider, it must sound like a bomb going off on the sidewalk.

Yet Sergio seems unconcerned. Is he that driven? Is his tunnel-vision so complete? Does his ambition dull his senses?

One day, I’ll use that to my advantage. I’ll use it to kill him or escape from him. I’ll use it to plan.

Dario won’t know, but I imagine he’d be proud.

Unlike my first wedding, Massimo can hand me off like a plate of spinach passed around the table, saying all the right words. The priest can do the invocations. He can remove the knife and bless it.

All this can go on while I imagine all the ways I can kill Sergio if Massimo doesn’t.

A crack breaks through the wall of silence, echoes diminishing over and over… crack-crack-crack.

In a split second, Massimo has his gun out. So does Marco, Ray, and every other man who worked with my father… except Sergio. Again, he’s unmoved.

Heads turn. It’s hard to follow a sound that’s everywhere, but our attention lands on a little boy in a blue suit standing over a tall gold candle holder that’s fallen.

“Oopsie,” he says, hands covering his mouth as the walls catch his regret and bounce it between them.

The congregants laugh. I laugh. His cheeks are so round and his shame is so palpable, I can’t help it.

A woman I recognize but can’t be bothered to place rushes out of the rows with another child on her hip and takes the boy by the hand, pulling him back into the fold while Amara rights the candlestick. When it’s stable, it’s a foot taller than she is.

Under my veil, I’m still smiling, because even at their worst, children are the best of us. When I turn back to the front, I find Massimo grinning as well, even as he puts his gun back in the holster under his jacket.