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It’s the first one I’ve tried on with long sleeves. They’re three-quarter-length, the swirling flowers and petals of cream-coloured lace fitting tightly until midway to my wrist. The sleeves lead up to mostly bare shoulders, where they connect to a deep sweet-heart neckline. The bodice of the dress is tightly fitted until it flares out at the hips into a lusciously-shaped skirt, not too narrow and not too full. The beading glitters like dew in shades of pearl and pewter, more densely arranged and sparkly at the bodice then thinning out, like sprays of stars, along the skirt and long train.
My strategy of trying to look at only one bit of the dress at a time completely fails me, though, when Donata comes up behind me and reaches up to secure a veil to the back of my head. The gossamer fabric settles around my shoulders, light as mist, and I can no longer just look at the dress in severed, detached parts. Because that’s me in the dress.
And I look like a bride.
My eyes are huge, shining with unshed tears. My thick hair is loose and long, curved into waves from my braid and turned a brilliant golden-red by the soft, warm lights in here. The veil ripples around me with the ephemeral thinness of a butterfly’s wings, coming to a silken stop well below my waist.
A tear escapes one of my eyes, quickly followed by another, rolling in hot stripes down my cheeks.
“God,” I mutter, sniffing hard. “I don’t even know why I’m crying!”
Valentina shakes her head rapidly, pressing her lips together and vigorously fanning her face with both hands before shakily stammering, “I’m crying too. Gah! It’s because you’re so fucking beautiful!”
“You look like something from a fairy tale,” Lucia breathes.
“Like a medieval Irish princess,” Giulia agrees from beside her on the couch.
But soon they, like Valentina, are standing at my side, as if they’ve been drawn inexorably forward. They circle around me, gasping and sighing as they take in all angles of the dress and the veil. And me.
“This is it,” Valentina says. “They always say when a dress makes you cry, you know that it’s the one.”
“Do they say that?” I ask, swiping at my wet cheeks.
“Well, if they don’t, they should,” Valentina replies with a teary laugh. “This is the one.”
I look at myself in the mirror again, and this time I’m not looking at me with my own eyes but Elio’s. This is how he will see me walking down the aisle.
And I’m terrified, because I want him to see me like this.
That sends me back-pedalling internally, fighting panic. Now I want to rip this dress off of my body and go back to one of the other ones. One of the safer dresses that didn’t make me look like a bride and didn’t make me cry.
I feel like if I agree to this dress, the dress I actually love, then I’m agreeing to everything.
“I don’t know,” I stutter, my voice quavering as I run my fingers over the beaded bodice.
“I think you do know,” Valentina replies with such conviction that it takes my breath away. “I think you know exactly what you want, and you’re just afraid to say yes to it.”
I haven’t eaten dinner or any of the appetizers brought out. And maybe it’s the champagne I drank on an empty stomach hitting my system all at once, but I’m suddenly too exhausted to keep fighting. To keep saying no.
Feeling like I’m probably making a terrible mistake and just not finding it in myself to care, I give one stiff, tight nod to Valentina. Her eyes light up. Giulia gives a cheer and Lucia claps her hands together beneath her chin, beaming.
“Congratulations, Deirdre,” Donata says. “While you’re still in the dress we’ll take some measurements and begin alterations immediately. Of course, a deposit will be required tonight. Fifty percent of the cost of the gown is due now, which works out to twenty-five thousand dollars.”
I just about fall off the damn pedestal, but Valentina doesn’t even bat a long-lashed eye as she hands over Elio’s shiny black card.
“Charge it to this,” Valentina says breezily, as if we’re simply buying coffees instead of something the price of a nice car. “And do as many alterations as you need to. Elio wants everything to be perfect.”
Chapter 24
Elio
I didn’t realize how damn long it took to pick out a dress. Even I took less time than this with the rings and I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. With Valentina there, shit should be a piece of cake. So when a couple hours go by and Deirdre isn’t back yet, I start getting restless.
I don’t know if it’s because the Tylenol hasn’t done diddly squat for me and my side and head feel worse than ever, but my mood is fraying as I pick up my phone and use voice command to tell it to call Curse.
He picks up immediately.
I realize I don’t really have anything specific to ask him or to say. The girls are at a dress shop. What am I going to do, ask for a play-by-play?
