“It was nothing, really,” Kian replied, waving it off. “No more talkof it.” He turned slightly toward me, his one arm around my waist. “This is Sophie.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you,” I said, extending my hand. She took it in both of hers, her grip surprisingly firm.
“Ah—the golden bracelet with rubies.” She chuckled softly. “It’s Dina’s favorite.”
I beamed, relief and pride blooming in my chest at her words.
She leaned in and kissed my cheek, then gestured for a waiter, who appeared almost instantly with a tray of champagne flutes, the sharp scent of alcohol lingering in the air.
Kian accepted three glasses, handing one to Dina’s mother and one to me before taking his own. He raised his flute. “To the bride and groom,” he toasted.
We clinked our glasses and drank the liquid down, despite it being way too early for champagne.
Once Dina’s mother left us, I turned to Kian, stunned, my earlier words already feeling ridiculous.
“This,” I said, my voice nearly swallowed by the percussion instruments all around, “is nothing like I imagined.”
His mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Welcome to your first Albanian wedding.”
The music thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, the celebration still going strong. The air smelled like grilled lamb, alcohol, and rosewater.
Kian had introduced me to everyone. There were only a handful of names I remembered, but it didn’t matter. I was having a good time.
We were seated close to the happy couple, but the two had found their way to our table and now everyone was chatting loudly over the music, their English worsening with each glass of alcohol.
“I love your gift so much,” Dina said again, one of the rare people, like me, who was not drunk at this party. Her fingers traced over thelong row of bangles, gold and gemstones catching the light. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for having me here.”
She waved it off, her bangles jingling. “Mr. Cortes is family. That makes you family too.”
I smiled, appreciating her words. “The wedding is amazing. How did you put it together so quickly? And without missing a day’s work.”
In the span of a week, they’d put this masterpiece together. Yes, maybe Kian had provided the space for them, but a lot more went into organizing a party like this.
“First, Mr. Cortes was wonderful to let us use this venue. Second, my mom and aunts. Nobody dares say no to them.” She chuckled conspicuously. “Plus, they didn’t want to wait too long. You know, in case I start… showing. They want the world to believe I entered this marriage pure.”
“Well, they should seriously consider getting into the business, because they rock.”
She chuckled dryly. “They made me pray for my sins for hours the day I told them about”—she lowered her voice, her eyes darting to her stomach before she continued—“you know. If they do that to every customer, they’ll lose them before their business takes off.”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they’d appreciate it more.”
“Pfft, I sincerely doubt anyone misses those old-fashioned ideals.”
“Sometimes the world needs more of those.”
“I’m surprised you’re not snobbing our customs.”
“Why would I? It’s what makes the world so colorful and beautiful. Besides, who am I to judge any culture, custom, or human being?”
“That’s very open-minded of you.”
“Hardly.”
She flicked a glance to Amir who was deep in conversation with Kian, both sticking to Albanian as they discussed what I presumed was business.
“My mom said rushed marriages rarely end up happy.”
