Page 4 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“Roma, you’ve brought so much joy and light into my life. You’re the ultimate support, and you encourage me to be a better man. So I ask, with all my humble heart, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Oh God, yes! I thought you’d never ask!”

Then he was putting a ring on her manicured finger (when had he pulled that out?) and she was screaming as she jumped up and down. The furor was almost immediate, with everyone around me shouting and applauding.

“Amazing!”

“How romantic!”

“Looks like we’ve got another wedding to plan!”

I tried to be happy for them and joined in with some of the cheers, clapping as best I could. In my heart of hearts, I was happy for them. Despite my brother’s grandstanding and selfish tendencies, Roma did really bring out a more considerate, softer side of him. But even if I did want the best for them, I couldn’t help but think, why propose on my birthday? Why couldn’t I have one thing for myself?

Naturally, with such an announcement, the cake was forgotten for quite a while. I thought about redirecting the energy toward me, but that would have ruined the mood for everyone. So, I asked those carrying it to put it down on the table, then started plucking the candles out one by one.

It’s not like I had anything to wish for anyway. I had a healthy, large pack. I was the daughter of the alpha and we were well enough off that I could pretty much ask for whatever I wanted and he would buy it. I was great at my job in the family business and respected in my department. I had a degree.

Maybe a cat would be nice, but despite our own animal nature, we weren’t really pet people.

Except for Ginna, but those were her babies more than pets.

“I’m going to have to buy a new dress for the wedding with all the weight I’ve lost.”

“I’ll need to buy one with how much weight I’ve gained!”

“What a beautiful couple.”

“Her parents are going to be so thrilled when they hear!”

“I’m sure he’s already asked permission. Leandro is a good boy. Respects tradition.”

“Now it’s just you and Massimo who need to get hitched!”

I looked up sharply at that last line, realizing it was directed at me. I’d been half-heartedly listening to the conversation around me as I dutifully cut the sheet cake into even slices and blinked at one of my older cousins.

“Pardon?”

He grinned at me like what he was saying was perfectly normal. “Riccardo, Serafina, and Leandro are all married or getting married. You and Massimo need to get your rings!”

I was relieved he didn’t say anything about Rolando, because my baby brother was only seventeen and we all were very protective of him. I might have decked him even. Instead of starting a fight, however, I chose to calmly reply.

“Ginna isn’t married, either.”

“Yeah, but Ginna is Ginna; it’s by choice. Once her little sugar-baby fantasy dries up, I’m sure she’ll settle down too.”

“I think you fundamentally misunderstand what Ginna’s about.”

“Did somebody say my name?”

As if summoned, my second eldest sister and third eldest Rizoli child pushed through the throng of people waiting for the cake without looking like they were waiting for the cake, dressed in her usual guidette glory. I said that with love, because my sister embraced the stereotype and loved every minute of it.

“Sure did,” I answered, allowing my cousin to sweat a moment before covering for him. “Paulie was just asking about Lil’ Champange, but I think you two broke up?”

When she had first texted me about him, I assumed it was a typo and he was named after bubbling alcohol from a very particular area of France. But no, his name was quite literally Little Cam-pang-knee.

Creative types, I guessed.

“Oh yeah, that was ages ago,” she said, popping her gum. “He got too into the biz, ya know? I love me a man in the spotlight, but he’s gotta know that there ain’t gonna be no hoes when you got Ginna on your roster!”