I laugh, and it comes out shaky.
Elena turns her head toward me.
Her eyes are soft.
“You okay?” she asks.
I nod.
I don’t trust my voice.
Because if I speak, I’m going to cry.
And I already cried once today when I saw Maddy for the first time in months. It took some time, but we mended things. I don’t know if we’ll ever be what we were before—I’m still hurt that she never once called about my dad—but we’re working on it.
Bianca is sitting on the little couch right now, legs crossed, dress immaculate, hair perfect.
She’s holding Stephano, who is mostly interested in chewing on her bracelet.
The only boy or man allowed in the bridal suite.
Antonio tried to argue that he is not a man, he is “a gift to the world.”
Bianca told him to leave.
He left.
Roberto is down the hall somewhere, doing what Roberto does—probably fixing something that doesn’t need fixing, just because he can.
Olivia is here too, perched carefully on a chair, her newborn baby girl cradled in her arms. Isabella.
She catches me looking and lifts her brows.
“Going to be you before you know it,” she teases.
I press my hand to my belly. “Scary to think about.”
I hear a knock.
My heart jumps.
“Erica?” a voice calls from the other side. “We’re ready.”
Elena shifts Alessandra higher on her hip and looks at me again.
Her smile is warm.
“It’s time,” she says softly.
My stomach flips.
Bianca stands first, careful not to jostle Stephano.
“Okay,” she says, all business now. “Everyone breathe in and out. Nobody cries until after we take pictures.”
She points at me.
“You,” she says. “Especially you.”
