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My eyes flit to Henry, who’s in the room. I want to ask him what he was doing talking to Francesca, but now is not the time. I focus on my bride-to-be.
“Francesca.” I gently pat her cheek. “Fran?” After checking her pulse, I relax a little. “What made her pass out?”
Emilia shakes her head. “I’m not sure. It just happened.”
“Fran.” I pull her head into my lap and shake her.
“Be gentle,” Emilia snaps.
“I am.”
She turns to Henry. “Call 9-1-1.” He nods and grabs his phone. As if she knows the chaos she’s causing, Francesca opens her eyes. Emilia cries out. “Francesca? Are you ok?”
Francesca’s mom bursts into the room. Giulia is a force to be reckoned with I’ve noticed in the few times I’ve met her. She hurries over to us. “Is she ok?”
Francesca frowns when she looks up at me. “What’s going on?”
“You passed out,” Emilia explains.
I help Fran sit up slowly. “What happened?” She shakes her head and keeps her eyes down.
“I just felt lightheaded, then …”
“Grab some water,” Emilia orders her mom. Giulia nods, grabs the nearest water glass, and holds it to Francesca’s mouth. Fran takes a small sip before sitting back.
“I’m ok,” she says. “Really,” she emphasizes when we all give her a dubious look. “I feel better now.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have the wedding,” I say. Emilia shoots me a glare.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Hey. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant … maybe Francesca isn’t up for getting married today.”
“Well, maybe we should ask Francesca.”
We both turn to her, and she flinches. “I’m … ok. I just want to get it over with.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I tease. She smiles slightly as I help her stand. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask murmur so only she can hear.
She meets my gaze and holds it for a moment before nodding. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for … helping me.”
“What are husbands for?”
“Not my husband yet.”
I squeeze her hands. “Well, in just a few minutes, I will be.” Even though the thought terrifies me.
Francesca steps away from me, turning to the group of people. “I’m fine. Truly.” There’s a collective sigh of relief. Emilia pulls her into a hug while their mom watches on. I stand there, feeling awkward. I’m never awkward. It’s a strange sensation.
“I’ll meet you out there,” I tell Fran.
“Actually.” She pulls away from her sister. “I don’t have my dad to walk me down the aisle. Marco was going to do it for me. But … do you think we could walk down together?” I don’t know what to say. “I know it’s not conventional, but …”
I give Fran a sincere smile. “I’d like that.” And that’s the truth.
* * *
I holdmy arm out for Francesca to take, and she does with a small smile. The music swells. Everyone turns to look at us.
