Hand in hand, we make our way up to the villa, while his men carry our luggage, keeping a respectable distance behind us.
"You'll love this place." Roberto leans in one more time to kiss my neck, making me giggle.
Several men and women dressed in servants' clothing stand by the large veranda doors, bowing their heads at our arrival.
"Come," Roberto pulls me with him, lacing his fingers through mine. He leads me up a curved set of marble stairs, warm from the sun. The villa is carved into the lush hillside, all sleek lines and natural stone, but the second floor…
The second floor is something else entirely.
The moment we step into the bedroom, I stop breathing.
It’s like walking into a fairy tale.
All virgin white, floor to ceiling. Billowy white curtains flutter in the open archways where French doors spill out onto a wide stone balcony overlooking the ocean. The breeze pushes through the room, soft and scented with salt and hibiscus. The bed is enormous, draped in sheer white netting like a veil, and covered in cloud-like linens. A white orchid blooms on the nightstand. There’s champagne chilling in a silver bucket on the table by the windows, and a platter of tropical fruit, perfectly arranged like a still life painting.
The light in here is golden, honey-soft, refracted through the swaying palms outside. Everything feels open. Airy. Safe. I step forward slowly, brushing my fingers across the smooth white canopy as if it might dissolve at my touch.
"It’s beautiful," I breathe.
"I wanted it to be perfect," Roberto says behind me. He lets go of my hand and walks to the balcony, pulling the gauzy curtain aside with one hand as he gestures toward the sea. "Look at that view."
I do.
The water stretches into forever. Crystal blue, broken only by the shadows of coral reefs and the lazy passing of a yacht far in the distance. The sun hangs low, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. The sound of the waves is rhythmic and hypnotic.
"It’s paradise," I whisper.
And in this moment, I almost believe it.
The men arrive with our luggage, and Roberto leaves my side to grab hold of a sealed black garment bag. He nods at the men, and they close the door behind them when they leave.
"I've been fantasizing about this moment for a long time. Would you indulge me and put this back on?"
Curiously, I cock my head and watch him open the garment bag. Out spills my wedding dress. All tulle and satin. A genuine smile breaks over my lips, "I didn't know you were such a romantic."
"You don't have any idea what I am," he says. His words should be a warning, but the tone in which they're delivered and the grin around his lips make my heart flutter.
"Okay." I take the dress and look for the bathroom.
"There," he points.
With the heavy dress in hand, I walk into the bathroom.This is it, I think. The moment I’ve known would come. The moment every girl in our world is raised to expect. The moment when I give my body to my husband. When I become a wife in every sense of the word.
I place the dress carefully on the counter. For a moment, I just stare at it, ivory silk and tulle and lace. It still smells fresh, like it had been cleaned since I wore it last. I never thought I’d put it back on. I thought the wedding wasthebig moment. The vows. The kiss. But this… this is the real one. The one no one talks about except in euphemisms and warnings and whispered advice.
Be sweet.
Be patient.
Don’t flinch.
I’m not afraid of Roberto. I keep telling myself that. He’s been kind. He’s never rushed me or raised his voice. But kindness doesn't change the fact that this is my first time. I can’t help but wonder if he knows that I'm a virgin. Should I tell him? Ask him to be careful? I pull the zipper down the back of the dress I’m wearing with trembling fingers and step out of it slowly. My skin feels too bare in the air-conditioned chill, too aware of itself.
I slip the wedding gown on, again.
It feels heavier now.
Like it knows what’s coming.
