She’d been there for him after his fiancée betrayed him. Helped pull him out of whatever dark place that kind of loss leaves behind. It should feel strange, sharing memories of my best friend with a man I’m only about to marry out of necessity.
Instead, it feels... nice, like Sienna is somehow still with me when we say her name out loud.
I smile into my cup. “I think she’d tell us we were both insane.”
Dante huffs a laugh. “She wouldn’t be wrong.”
“No.” I set my tea down and look at him. “She’d probably callthis a terrible idea, then help me pick out shoes for the wedding.”
That draws a real smile from him, quick and rare. “That sounds accurate.”
“She always did love a little chaos.”
His gaze softens. “She did.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. The silence isn’t awkward.
“I’m glad you talk about her with me,” I admit.
Dante’s eyes meet mine. “So am I.”
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. There’s no performance in it. And maybe that’s why what comes next feels so unfair. Because the closer the wedding gets, the more a strange unease begins to coil inside me. Not fear, exactly. Just the awful, creeping sense that something is wrong. I tell myself it’s normal. Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to marry a man I barely know, even if I like him more than I ever planned to. I’m carrying another man’s baby. My entire life has twisted itself into something unrecognizable in a matter of months.
Anyone would be nervous.
But this morning, when I woke before sunrise with my heart already pounding, it doesn’t feel like nerves. It felt like a warning.
Teresa arrives and makes a shooing motion at Dante before leading me to the bridal suite. By the time the dress is laid across the bed, the house is already humming with quiet activity downstairs.
Flowers being delivered.
Cars arriving.
Doors opening and closing.
The whole world moving toward the ceremony whether I’m ready or not.
I stand in front of the mirror in my slip while Teresa and the seamstress guide the gown over my head.
It’s beautiful.
Soft ivory silk with fitted lace sleeves and a high neckline that makes it feel elegant instead of too precious. The bodice is structured just enough, and the skirt falls in a graceful line that skims my body instead of clinging to it.
Most importantly, it hides my stomach.
When they finish fastening the back, I look at my reflection and barely recognize the woman staring back at me.
I look like a bride.
A real one.
My throat tightens.
Behind me, Dante clears his throat. “Everything okay?”
I meet his gaze in the mirror and shake my head once.
He says something in Italian and the room empties to just the two of us.
