“It’s a beautiful dress,” I tell Fabrizia. “I hope I can make it look good.”
She makes the ‘pffeew’ sound again. “I shouldn’t be asking you your opinion, should I? Nothing about this wedding is for you.”
Before I can reply, Fabrizia strides away, barking at her assistants in Italian. One of them brings forward the veil Mr. Parker chose. My hair stylist Monika fixes the diamond circle around my head and the Venetian lace falls almost to my feet.
I study myself in the mirror, rearranging my face into a shy smile. This is how I’ll look as I walk down the aisle. I transition into a toothy beam. This is how I’ll look as the Archbishop announces us Mr. and Mrs. Parker. I touch a hand to my cheek. This is the blissful astonishment I’ll hold through our first dance, giddy at what a fairy tale this has turned out to be.
“January,” Sadie calls. “Can we come see the dress?”
“Of course,” I say, letting my face relax.
By the time everyone has admired the dress, there’s only twenty minutes until the wedding cars arrive. Staff bring out flutes of champagne and orange juice and Kurt and Theodore pour themselves one last whiskey.
“Cheers,” Penelope says, and we clink glasses. I take a small sip of my cocktail and put it aside. Margot downs hers and reaches clumsily for mine. As Margot chugs it back, there’s a sharp tap on my shoulder. It’s Fabrizia. “Come with me,” she says.
I follow her to a corner of the suite hoping mom hasn’t called with some insane last-minute request. But Fabrizia points to a small person slipping through the door. My mouth falls open. “Zia!”
I run toward her, but Fabrizia clutches my wrist. “Don’t ruin your dress.”
I pull up short and stand there waving at Zia Teresa like a moron. She seems smaller than usual and kind of withdrawn. Only her brown eyes are the same, bright as a sparrow’s. She looks me up and down with the same assessing look she used to give me before school. “You’re magnifica,bella,but what is…?”
She gestures at my breasts.
I raise a hand to my barely covered chest. “It wasn’t my idea, Zia! Mr. Parker chose the dress.”
“He could have chosen a little more of it.”
I grin even though my heart is tearing open. I want to hug her so badly, it hurts. By the time I was nine, I was already taller than Zia and I started picking her up and crushing her to my chest. She pretends to find it annoying, but I know she loves it. If it wasn’t for this stupid wedding dress, I could do it again.
“I can’t believe you came to see me!” I say.
“Of course, I came. Nothing could keep me away.” Zia looks at Fabrizia and I wonder if she’s about to criticize her for showing off my cleavage, but their eyes meet in some mutual understanding.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Fabrizia says and walks back to everyone else.
Zia takes my hand. “I can’t stay long. If your stepmother knew I was here…”
“I know.”
She turns her head and coughs. A long, wet cough I could recognize in my sleep. “Zia, please quit smoking.”
“Bah, what’s the point?” She looks around then stands on tiptoe and kisses my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
I try to smile but my face won’t move. “I wish you could come to the wedding.”
“What do we say about wishes?”
“They’re for fools.”
“That’s right.” Zia pushes her tiny shoulders back. “Stand tall.”
I lift my spine, imitating her.
“Better. Now smile.”
I try again but it makes the corners of my eyes sting. Zia Teresa has the heart of a soldier and today, of all days, I don’t want to disappoint her, but the thought of what will happen once I’m Mr. Parker’s wife is terrifying. “Zia—”
Her hand tightens on mine. “This is not the place.”
