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The thought still hasn’t fully sunk in yet.
I’m going to be married. To Matteo. In less than a month.
Things happen fast in the mafia. When weddings are announced, they’re usually planned in less than a month. I haveno idea why, but my guess is to entrap women into marriages as soon as possible.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell the saleslady, whose name is Morgan, based on her name tag. “But I’m not sure it’s really me.”
“Ok. We’ll keep looking.”
“Thanks.”
She hurries away to find me another dress.
Pia grabs a mermaid-style dress from the rack. “What about this one?”
“It’s nice, too … but still, not my style.”
“What is your style?” Serafina asks, waltzing past. “Boring and unoriginal?”
I flinch. I know she’s speaking about my dislike for Matteo and not my dislike for the wedding dresses.
Pia catches my gaze and leans in to whisper, “I remember when Serafina used to be mean to me. I tried not to take it too personally.”
“I know.” I watch as Serafina struts around the store, looking at dresses. “It’s just … it would be nice to be in solidarity with my sister at a moment like this. Not bickering like we used to.”
Are you ok?Pia signs. She likes to flit back and forth between sign and verbal language.
“No,” I admit, putting a poofy dress back onto the rack. “I’m not.”
Her eyes soften, and she opens her mouth to speak when Morgan returns with another selection of dresses.
“I think you should try these on,” she tells me.
I suck in a breath, compose myself, and nod. “All right.”
I follow her into the changing room and try on the first dress, which has long sleeves covered in lace with a bodice that shows off my clavicle and a long, lacy skirt that reveals just a hint of my skin underneath. It’s both beautiful and slightly sexy, but not in an inappropriate way.
If I were ever going to choose a dress, this would be it.
I stare at myself for a moment, taking it in.
“What do you think?” Morgan asks, clamping her hands together. “It looks absolutely beautiful on you.”
I agree. It’s stunning.
And yet, why do I feel like crying?
All of a sudden, panic sweeps over me, and I double over, clutching at my chest and stomach.
Morgan flutters to my side. “Are you all right?”
“No,” I whisper, curling tighter into myself. My chest feels tight, and breathing is almost unbearable.
“Should I get someone?”
“Pia,” I manage to say. I wish I could say Serafina, but I’m not sure she’d be the most supportive right now.
Morgan rushes away and returns a moment later with Pia in tow.
