“I can’t believe we’re doing this. Together. You and I. Can you believe it?” I exclaim.
Sofia giggles. “I really can’t, but I’m so happy.”
“All that’s missing is for us to get our ears pierced. Should we go find a Claire’s?” I wink.
“Very funny. Never doing that again,” she says, laughing. “But I’m always up for an adventure with you.”
I can’t help but smile. It feels as if nothing has changed. As if there hasn’t been ten years of silence between us. I want to know everything about her. How her life went after we stopped seeing each other. Her love life. Friends. College. Everything. I feel like I missed out on so much, and I don’t want to waste another second not knowing everything about my cousin.
Suddenly, the mattress vibrates. I look around and spot Sofia’s phone lighting up. I grab it and see a text from her mother.
Mi Florecita! Where are you? We need to do a final dress try-on for the seamstress.
My heart beats so loudly I can barely hear Sofia speak. That name.Florecita.The one from my father’s journal.
“Who was it?” she asks nonchalantly.
“Your mother.” I clear my throat. “Dress fitting.”
“Oh crap. Right. I must get that done, but this was so much fun. Thanks for doing this with me, Isa.”
She pulls me in tightly for a warm embrace. At first, I resist, but then I melt into her arms.
“I love you, prima,” Sofia whispers.
“I love you too. See you at the rehearsal dinner.”
As she walks out of the cabin, I can’t help but wonder if Sofia is “the little flower” my father was talking about, or if the nickname was passed down to her from Rosita. Regardless of who it was, I need to find out what it was that he couldn’t do and why he couldn’t do it.
Chapter Nineteen
As the sun sets behind the trees, Sofia and Luciano’s rehearsal dinner is officially coming to life at the campsite. The main seating area is decorated with elegant white tablecloths, high-backed white chairs, and thick, plush cushions. String lights are strung up on poles and hanging across the trees, creating a canopy and giving off a warm, golden glow that illuminates the entire area. Luscious bouquets of white roses, periwinkles, hyacinths, and dahlias adorn the tables, with large and incredibly tall centerpieces cascading over the vessels’ sides. Flickering candles placed between the flowers add an extra layer of coziness. At each place setting, delicately folded white napkins and silverware glisten in the light. A small vase with a single white flower is placed on each plate. A garland of greenery and white flowers, delicately interwoven with a sparkling string of fairy lights, runs down the center of the serving table.
Maria snorts as we stare at the immaculate setup. “That’s a lot of white for a place full of dirt.”
We spent the last couple of hours getting ready while the bridal party rehearsed their entrances for the ceremony. Maria is wearing an emerald-green pleated Badgley Mischka gown. The sleeves are long, reaching down to her wrists, but mesh, so she can probably still feel the slight chill in the air. The frock’s plunging V-shape neckline is perfect for displaying her diamond necklace.
As for me? My burgundy off-the-shoulder dress clings to my every curve. The cap sleeves lie just below the top of my shoulders, perfectly displaying my collarbones and the tiny key necklace my father gave me. It’s not designer, but it’s so stunning I may just be able to get away with it tonight. I catch myself thinking I could say it’s Vera Wang, and part of me is ready to. The truth, though, is so close to the surface now that I wonder if there’s even a point.
But then, the fear creeps back in. I’ve protected myself from Silvana’s threats, but what if someone still finds out? If the wrong person catches wind of my truth, I could lose everything—the investment, the restaurant, and my last chance to save my family’s legacy. So maybe, just for tonight, I’ll keep pretending. Because as much as I want to be real, I can’t afford for anyone to know the truth—not yet.
“I wish you would have told me you would wear a burgundy dress. We look like fucking Christmas over here.”
We walk in unison toward the dinner. Unsurprisingly, Sofia has set up a cocktail hour beforehand. Several bar tables covered in white linen have been placed around the center of the path, keeping the guests away from the seating area until all the food is ready. Maria reaches for two glasses of pink champagne a waiter is carrying on a tray and hands me one. We stand around one of the tables and begin surveying the situation. I can’t help but look for Valentina.
Maria smirks. “She’s probably in the kitchen finishing up.”
“Who?”
“Oh, please, Isa. The woman you’re so desperately searching for right now. Valentina’s not here. Plus, she was probably at rehearsal, so she had to return to the kitchen and ensure the staff was okay.”
I scoff. “I’m not looking for her.”
I was, but I wouldn’t admit that. The trees surrounding the dinner tables are wrapped in twinkling lights and draped with more garlands of greenery and flowers. White paper lanterns are strung from tree to tree, creating a canopy of soft golden light that bathes the entire area in a romantic glow.
As guests slowly arrive, they are greeted by the servers, who are dressed in crisp white shirts and black pants. The servers, equipped with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks, quickly circulate among the guests, offering them delicious treats and refreshing cocktails.
“There’s Satan,” Maria mumbles and points with her eyes.
