“I will go,” Philippa volunteered out of the blue.
“You will?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes, signorina. This is too importante to wait.”
Chiara glanced at an old clock with roman numerals on the wall. “We only have thirty minutes till the ceremony.”
But the maid had already headed for the door. “I will hurry.”
Suddenly, my eyes stung, and I reached for my sisters. “I’m so glad you’re both here with me today.” There were sniffles as we each struggled with our emotions for a moment. It was Alessandra who broke us out of it.
“No, we have to stop this. You’ll ruin your face, and you’re so gorgeous right now.”
“Thank you,” I whispered to her, hugging her even harder.
Then, perhaps because Philippa had left us alone, she murmured another question. “Are you safe, Lucia? Is he treating you well?”
At another time in my life, I might’ve hidden the truth from my younger sisters. But after all that we’d endured to this point, I saw no reason to sugar coat it. “I was frightened at first. He was so… callous sometimes. And… he wasn’t as gentle as he could’ve been early on.” I felt heat rise to my complexion, and I couldn’t quite admit to the fact that I’d liked the roughness of his hands on me. I still did, though I didn’t welcome it as much considering my possible condition. “But that’s changed. I think he cares about me. Genuinely. I think it’s going to be okay.”
The truth we’d all come to realize the older we’d become was that none of our lives were guaranteed to be long. It was part and parcel of being a member of our family’s lifestyles. The ugliness of our parent’s deaths had only served to remind us of this.
Chiara kept her eyes on the clock, and though she didn’t say anything, I knew what she was probably thinking. Time was growing short. And maybe I was wrong. Maybe my lateness was due to the stress of these past few days. The busyness of the overall preparations. Angelo’s odd interference. Being separated from Romeo and knowing that he’d been separated from me. Not having him at my side last night had kept me tossing and turning. I no longer felt safe without him. It was all very disconcerting. Perhaps my body chemistry was just a bit off.
Which made Philippa’s return sooner rather than later feel imperative.
As we dressed and reapplied our smudged mascara and powder, all of us kept taking peeks at that clock. Time seemed to be moving much faster than it should’ve been. The chapel area outside became louder and louder. More guests must be arriving. I hoped they wouldn’t block the maid’s path.
At last, with only five minutes to spare, she arrived. I took the box in the restroom, then came out, holding it in my hand.
“Two minutes,” I said by way of explanation, and now, all four of us kept the vigil.
We were tense as we waited, but it was Alessandra who frowned. “Do you want this, Lucia? Do you want the test to be positive?”
I almost spouted off an automatic answer, but then, I paused. Did I want this? Now? I thought of all the ups and downs I’d had with Romeo, of the plans our parents had made, of all the deaths and violence. I remembered when we’d met, and how he’d made me feel. Scared, and yet fascinated. Angry, yet disarmed by him. Tentative, yet turned on. It was much the same now except that the better aspects of his personality had started to override the negative.
I hoped it’d stay that way.
“It’s time,” Alessandra said, loudly, and Chiara and Philippa both hushed her.
I flipped the test over and looked. Two lines instead of one. “Uh, I really am pregnant…”
“You are?” Alessandra grabbed the test to check for herself, then she cheered. Suddenly, I was surrounded by three women as they crushed me in the middle of their circle. It was like playing Ring Around the Rosie and Red Rover all in one. But their twisting and turning had another effect, too.
“Okay, we have to stop or I’m going to get sick again.”
They pulled back, and there was a knock on the door, which we assumed to be Rosetta, the wedding planner telling us to come out. Philippa went to answer it while I prepared myself but the person in the hallway wasn’t the older lady Angelo had hired. It was my brother.
“Giorgio,” I screamed and raced toward him. Chiara and Alessandra were right on my heels, and soon we had tackled him, nearly throwing him off his feet. For a long minute, we all remained there together, wrapped around each other. I had a million questions to ask, and I’d hardly had time to absorb just how gaunt and undernourished he looked, when we were interrupted. And this time, it was Rosetta.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to begin.”
“It’s wonderful to see you,” I told Giorgio as we left our dressing room. “I love you.” My sisters offered him similar sentiments, and as he gave them back, I felt so thankful.
Things might not be ideal, but I hoped that eventually, we remaining Bonifacios would be okay.
Calla lily blooms in hand, Chiara and Alessandra stood in front of me as we lined up to go down the aisle. My bridal bouquet was more elaborate than my sister’s individual blossoms. The white calla lilies had been mixed with tangerine chrysanthemums, burgundy hypericum, trailing ivy and baby’s breath. The baby’s breath now felt somewhat prophetic.
I wished so much that I could call a brief timeout and spend a few moments with Romeo. He needed to be told this secret as soon as possible, but it’d have to wait until after the ceremony. As Rosetta did her due diligence and stepped around me to smooth down the clingy lace and satin of my gown, I loosened the double grip on my bouquet to rest a hand on my stomach. Soon, the flatness there would be round, bursting with a new life, a life Romeo and I had created together. Tears pricked my eyes again, and this time, I didn’t stop them. I didn’t want to.
The church had been playing piped music over the speakers, but then the hundred-plus-year-old organ kicked in, sending waves of sound throughout the atrium where we stood. This was it.
My sisters trundled down the aisle in their chiffon, past the hundreds of attendees, mafia families who’d appeared at Angelo’s behest. The wedding planner motioned me toward the doorway, straightening my short train. I looked up and caught sight of my groom. There he was in his flawless wedding suit, looking more handsome than any man I’d ever seen. He’d been regarding the crowd with the same cold cockiness he used to always wear, but then his gaze focused on me.
Our eyes locked as I continued toward him, and though the rest of his features remained aloof, even stony, those dark orbs of his warmed more and more the closer I came. By the time I reached him, his entire face had softened like butter, and he tenderly caressed my tears away with his thumbs. He’d opened his mouth to ask me something, but it was drowned out by the priest’s bellowed words.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite Lucia Bonifacio and Romeo Cavetti in holy matrimony…”
He droned on and on about the sanctity of marriage and the bond we would from then on share, but I barely registered what he said. The longer we were left without the ability to communicate, the less easy it was to bear. I wanted to ask my groom about Giorgio and to confide in him the truth about my condition. I felt so agitated I couldn’t hold still. Perhaps because of this, my husband-to-be’s brow furrowed in confusion.