AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Downtown,” he replies. “We’re providing the concrete for a construction project. I’m checking on things.”
I have trouble picturing him somewhere as mundane as a construction site.
“Are you wearing a hard hat?” I tease.
A gruffness enters his voice.
“How about we talk about what you’re wearing instead?”
“I’m still in bed. If you were here last night then you know what that is.”
“Ah. Right. Those grandma jammies that you somehow manage to make look fucking sexy. Still don’t know how you do that, by the way.”
I hear another voice in the background, along with the beeping sound of a truck. Elio tells me that he has to go.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he murmurs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Deirdre.”
He hangs up before I can say it back.
* * *
As promised, Valentina shows up later that afternoon. And she doesn’t just have dresses for me. She’s got a whole rolling case of stuff that, when opened, spills over with fabric samples and stationery and catalogues, all of it distinctly bridal in aesthetic.
“I came a little early,” she says, hauling stuff out of the case and dumping it on the island in the kitchen. “I figured we could do some wedding stuff before you got ready. Although… If you don’t want to, I can make all the final decisions myself.”
She pauses then, swatches of pearly fabric in her fists, and eyes me like she expects me to object the way I did on the way to the wedding dress fitting.
“It’s alright,” I tell her with a small smile. “I’ll help.”
She looks surprised for a moment, then grins.
“Resigned yourself to your fate then, eh?” she says cheerily.
Not long ago, that sentence would have made me recoil. But now I just give a disbelieving laugh. “Something like that.”
Now that I’ve agreed to the wedding, it doesn’t seem fair to make Valentina take on so much work to plan it on her own. So I throw myself in head-first right alongside her. I don’t know anything about event planning, but it that doesn’t matter much. Valentina’s knowledge makes up for my lack. And it seems like she mostly just wants my input on things, which I’ve grown to appreciate.
This isn’t a wedding I ever could have anticipated. But at least I’m being consulted on things like the flowers and the décor.
We’re elbow deep in wedding stuff when Valentina glances at her phone and swears.
“Shit. We have to get you ready!” She leaps off the stool beside the island, and I follow suit. She snatches the garment bags she brought with her and hustles up the stairs with me close behind.
This reminds me so much of that second night here, when Valentina came to help me get ready for the gala. But this time, I’m much more willing to do everything she asks. I try on both dresses quickly without dithering about the camera the way I once did.
I grimace to myself, remembering what she said. About how I’d get used to things here.
And it seems like I have.
We both agree on the second dress I try on. It’s a gown of opalescent silk that looks white at first glance, but gleams in the palest shades of lavender and shell-pink at certain angles and in certain light. Something about the design feels Grecian – the silk is draped in flowing swoops at the shoulders, and it’s cut not too low in the front but very low in the back. As I reach up to adjust the shoulder of the dress, Valentina smacks her forehead.
“I forgot you don’t have any razors. I didn’t bring one this time. Quick. Take that off. There’s a waxing kit in the bathroom.”
I’m not exactly keen on waxing right now, but it seems like the only available option at the moment. And it turns out that Valentina’s got a deft hand for the job. She waxes beneath my arms and along my legs with a ruthlessly competent efficiency that makes the stinging not as bad as it probably could have been in other circumstances.
“Want me to do your bush?” she suddenly asks.
I nearly choke on my own spit at the completely unselfconscious way she says it. Coughing, I stare at her with watering eyes.
