Julian’s brothers acquired the twelve foot high tree in the foyer. Getty didn’t even roll his eyes once when he spent the afternoon on a ladder to hang an army of ornaments while Mel stood below and instructed him on where each piece ought to go.
This is a dream house to spend Christmas in. It’s everything I’ve longed for since my own family was destroyed. Next year at this time I’ll have two baby boys to celebrate with. This gaping hole in my heart will heal sooner or later. My husband doesn’t need to know I’m hopelessly in love with him. I’ve already said too much. I have to remind myself of the terms of our contract. I’ll stop yearning for the impossible.
After all, nobody gets everything they wish for.
“Cecilia, come in here please.”
I jump at the sound of Cass Tempesta’s voice. It’s coming from his study. I hadn’t realized he was even in the house.
Sure enough, I find him sitting in a leather chair, facing forward, his back to his desk. An open bottle of bourbon, same brand as the one Julian drank on our wedding night, sits on a nearby table beside an empty shot glass. The massive stone fireplace crackles with a comforting blaze. And above the fireplace mantle, Teresa Tempesta smiles in her wedding dress.
It’s unclear what he’s doing, aside from staring at his wife’s painting. I stand at the threshold and wait for him to explain what he wants.
“Take a seat,” he orders, expecting to be obeyed. “I’m going to show you something.”
His occasionally bizarre behavior aside, I’ve become used to feeling mostly pity for Julian’s father. I can’t be the only one to notice that he seems to have aged significantly in the past six months. There’s more grey laced through his hair and he spends an increasing number of hours in this room alone. I suspect he sleeps in here sometimes.
Cass’s eyes remain on the dancing flames in the fireplace until I’m uneasily settled in one of the oversized armchairs. Then he withdraws a small black remote control from his pocket. Upon pressing a button, a puzzling hum comes from the opposite wall. Soon a segment of the dark paneled wall slowly slides to the right, revealing a large screen television that I’ve never seen before.
A bright scene flickers to life. The footage is old, slightly grainy, and clearly taken as an amateur home movie. There are flowers everywhere. The view pans to a crowd of unfamiliar people, all of them dressed up.
“There’s my sister,” says the man behind the camera and zooms in on a beautiful young bride.
She laughs and blows a kiss at the camera. She’s lovely. Dark haired and dark-eyed. Pink-cheeked and ecstatic. Radiating so much vibrance it seems likely she’ll step right through the screen and join us.
And I know her. There’s a hint of my husband in her smile.
“Congratulations, Teresa,” says the man recording. “Hard to believe you’re a married woman now.”
“Love you, big brother,” she replies with a wink and looks around. “Now where’s my gorgeous prince? I demand a dance.”
“I’m right here.” The groom sneaks up behind her and slides his arms around her slender waist. He cradles her close, hulking and protective. “I’ll never be far from you, angel. You know that.”
Teresa turns her head to look up at him. “Promise?” she says.
A very young and dashing Cass Tempesta smiles at his bride and answers her request with a kiss. A few people clap. An unseen woman yells to start the music.
A handful of familiar notes is all it takes for recognition to click. The first time I heard this old song it was coming from this room. Now I know the reason why. And I also know why I ended up dancing to it at my own wedding.
On the screen, Teresa hooks her arms over her husband’s shoulders. He holds her with care and there’s so much reverence and devotion written on his face. They don’t look away from each other once as the music plays. A few times they speak private words, too softly for the camera to pick it up. They kiss often. They are blissfully, magnificently in love.
I wish every good thing in the world for this couple. I wish I was unaware of the heartbreak to come. There is too much sorrow in the knowledge that they will be brutally ripped apart far too soon.
This young groom, so desperately in love, has no idea that decades in the future, he will play this very song at his son’s wedding. Perhaps Julian’s father was trying to share a little bit of his own love story. Or maybe he was attempting to relive the moment through us in a way.
Lost In Your Eyesis on its final seconds and Cass abruptly freezes the screen. He and Teresa gaze at each other and time stands still for them.
Julian’s father doesn’t look my way as he says, “I thought you’d want to see her.”
I swallow the grief in my throat. “She was wonderful.”
“Yes.”
It hurts to see Cass and his beloved Teresa up there, so young and hopeful. But I doubt they would want me to feel sorry for them.
“You and Teresa really had the dream,” I say. “You shared the kind of love most people only wish they could experience.”
His dark eyes shift and focus on me. His expression is unreadable and apprehension tickles the base of my spine as I panic that I’ve accidentally offended him. I’m in no way prepared for what he says next.
