It’s hard to believe I would actually covet the voices’ approval, but here we are.
I smooth my hands over the silk one more time, then reach for my bouquet—white roses mixed with dark greenery that somehow manages to look both romantic and slightly dangerous.
Perfect for a DeLuca wedding.
A soft knock at the door makes me turn. “Come in,” I call.
The door opens to reveal Dad in his morning coat, and my breath catches.
He looks incredible—perfectly tailored charcoal gray that emphasizes his broad shoulders and the silver threading through his dark hair.
But it’s his expression that makes a lump form in my throat.
He looks proud, but it also looks suspiciously like he’s trying not to cry.
“Oh, Bianca,” he breathes, stopping just inside the doorway like he’s afraid to come closer. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“Don’t you dare make me cry,” I warn, my voice already shaky. “Santiago spent an hour on my makeup.”
He laughs, blinking rapidly. “I won’t cry if you won’t.”
“Deal,” I say, but we’re both lying and we know it.
He crosses the room slowly, like he’s memorizing every detail of this moment.
When he reaches me, his hands hover near my shoulders before settling gently on my arms.
“I can’t believe my little girl is getting married,” he says softly.
“I can’t believe you’re letting me,” I admit. “A year ago, you would have locked me in my room if I even mentioned getting married at nineteen.”
His smile is rueful. “A year ago, you were still my little girl trying to figure out who she was supposed to become. Now…” He pauses, his blue-gray eyes serious. “Now you’re a woman who knows exactly who she is and what she wants. That changes everything.”
The simple acknowledgment hits me harder than I expected.
He sees me as an adult, as someone capable of making her own choices about her life and future.
After everything we’ve been through—the lies, the truth, the anger, the reconciliation—he trusts me to know what’s best for myself.
“I love him, Dad,” I tell him, even though I know he knows this.
But still, some part of me desperately wants to make sure he knows this isn’t some impulsive, rebellious decision. “I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person.”
“I know you do.” His voice is thick with emotion as he squeezes my arms affectionately. “And I know he loves you the same way. The way he looks at you…” Dad shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s like you’re the most precious thing in his world.”
“He is in mine,” I whisper, tears threatening despite my earlier warning.
Dad reaches up to cup my face gently, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “Not just today, but for everything. For coming into your own. For choosing love and happiness and a future that’s entirely yours.”
“Dad,” I start, but he’s not finished.
“I know I haven’t always made the right choices,” he continues, his voice low as if he’s trying and failing to hold it together. “I-I know I hurt you by keeping the truth from you for so long. But watching you today, seeing how happy you are…” He swallows hard and he exhales. “I think maybe everything happened exactly the way it was supposed to.”
Dammit, Dad. That does it.
The tears I’ve been fighting spill over, and I don’t even care about my makeup anymore.
Santiago is going to kill me, but he can get in line with all the other people who also want me dead.
