"I'm not nervous."
"Vittoria—"
"I'm fine, Mamma."
I pull my hand away.
Smooth my dress even though it doesn't need smoothing.
The silence stretches.
Amanda shifts beside me. She knows when to push and when to retreat. Right now, she's retreating. Pulling out her phone. Pretending to check Instagram while the tension builds.
"You look beautiful," Mamma tries again.
"Thank you."
"The dress is perfect. Your hair is perfect. Dmitri won't be able to take his eyes off you."
"That's the plan."
"And you're happy?" Her voice drops. Goes soft. Vulnerable in a way Mamma rarely allows herself to be. "With him? With this marriage?"
I turn to look at her.
She's dressed in deep burgundy. Elegant. Timeless. Her hair is swept up in a classic style that makes her look younger than her years. Diamonds glitter at her throat and ears.
She's beautiful.
She's also terrified.
I can see it in the tightness around her mouth. The way her hands clasp together in her lap. The slight tremor in her voice.
She's afraid I'm making a mistake.
Afraid I'm being forced into something I don't want.
Afraid she failed me as a mother by pushing the marriage issue in the first place.
"I'm happy," I say.
And it's not a lie.
Not entirely.
I am happy with Dmitri.
When we're alone. When he's touching me.
But this feeling in my chest?
This wrongness?
It has nothing to do with happiness.
"Good." Mamma's shoulders relax slightly. "That's all I want for you, tesoro. Happiness. A good man who treats you well. A partnership like your father and I had."
My throat tightens.
