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“I’ll make sure you fill all the bathroom help duties.” I force a chuckle. “Also, I believe your official tasks are related to the wedding itself.”
“Gio asked me to drop his bag here,” Massi says and rolls a bag into the bedroom. He kisses Gina’s forehead. “Are you coming, Blue?”
“I’ll join you downstairs later.” She brushes his cheek, and he leans into her palm and kisses it. The adoration in their eyes cuts through me, leaving ugly jealous claw-marks in my heart.
“I’ll be right back.” I rush to the bedroom and close the door behind me.
I can’t cry. I can’t cry.
Gio hired a stylist for me, but I sent them away. I didn’t want anyone to witness what a mess I’ve been. Annie helped me get ready, but even my minimal makeup would be destroyed if I cry.
Jesus, why am I such a mess? I pace around the bed and lay my eyes on Gio’s bag. Oh my God.
My stomach constricts. The week flew by with all the technicalities of our arrangement and the logistics of the rushed party, but we never discussed what the engagement and then the marriage would look like.
Hope flutters in my chest. Gio needs me to fulfill certain public obligations, but is what happens behind closed doors optional? Gio booked this room. Perhaps if we reconnect on a physical level, we can find each other again. Find us.
A smile blooms, still shy, but real. Perhaps I should just enjoy the day. It’s not my dream party and my fiancé is somewhat reluctant, but I can prove to him how much I care. I actually have some control over this situation.
For the first time in weeks, the fog lifts slightly and I let myself dream. I burst through the door with my newly-found confidence.
“Ready?” I practically hop into the living room.
Annie turns from the window, her eyes red. She stares at me, scrutinizing like she used to when I stayed out late and she tried to assess if I was high.
“If you are,” Gina proclaims and wraps me in an embrace. “The family is undecided how to feel about this. You couldn’t look at each other a week ago and now you’re engaged. But I knew it. When Gio said he wanted to fix things, but you wouldn’t listen, I told him to try harder. And it all worked out.”
Annie lets out a strangled sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp. I squeeze Gina tighter, trying to steal her positive energy.
I didn’t listen. I never gave him a chance to tell me what he came to say, but it’s too late. I don’t think I’ll ever hear those words.
My newly- found confidence falters, but I push the feeling away. There is no point in dwelling on the past. The future is in my hands.
* * *
My eyes mist when Gio speaks, reciting words like a robot. He informs the guests about our engagement without emotions, without a joke or the cute story usually expected on an occasion like this.
He looks at my tears with a mixture of annoyance and something else, which looks more like constipation, and he slides a ring on my finger. It’s big and undoubtedly expensive, but it’s as generic as they come.
“Maybe at the wedding, let Mila speak, bro. Stick to your phone,” Massi calls out, and the room breaks into laughter. It rings in my ears with pretense, but at least the guests bought the charade.
We stand beside each other and I’m hyper-aware of his scent, his heat, his distance. He keeps his hand on the small of my back while people come to congratulate us. The touch is light but charged with ownership. I have a tough time focusing on all the words and questions.
I haven’t felt his touch since that morning in his office before the proposal, and while I knew I missed it, I didn’t realize how much my body has craved it.
Aside from that connection, Gio keeps his distance. And not just physically. When we entered the room together earlier, without thinking, I laced my fingers with his. His body tensed and he dropped my hand as soon as possible, turning to Massi to say something.
He hasn’t said a word to me yet, if I don’t count his uninspired speech. No private moment. No compliment. We’re standing beside each other, but the distance can’t be longer or deeper.
“Congratulations, darling Mila. I’m so happy for you both.” Bianca hugs me and air kisses me on both sides. She lifts my hand and I expect anahorohlike all the other reactions. Instead, she raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Is this the ring?” she asks, as if it wasn’t obvious.
I nod, and she assesses her son who speaks with Bianca’s husband, Micah.
“Interesting,” she mutters and then smiles at me, patting my hand.
Before she can say anything else, Gio gives her a stern look. “Don’t, Mother.”
What was all that about? I look at my ring, burning my finger, but then Annie comes to fake congratulate me and I don’t have more time to think about the weird exchange.
