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And then we start walking.
I can see the confused frowns and smiles as our guests watch us walk down the aisle together. Giulia looks like she wants to snatch me away from her daughter and make her walk on her own. I need to get Francesca’s trust if I’m ever going to succeed at sleeping with her.
And I don’t know … there was something unsettling about seeing Francesca on the ground, passed out. A feeling in my chest I wasn’t used to—fear.
I don’t have feelings for Francesca. I can’t. When it comes to the things I do to women, it’s easier to just turn my feelings off. So, I have no clue why Francesca is instilling things within me. It’s not normal.
We reach the priest and let go of each other to stand opposite one another. I try to let go of Francesca’s hand, but she grips my fingers tighter. She shoots a nervous look at the guests, and it dawns on me—she’s nervous. Being in front of a large crowd like this is probably not high on Francesca’s bucket list.
“You’re ok,” I whisper to her, and it seems to ease her. Huh. Interesting.
The priest begins the ceremony. Francesca keeps her eyes glued to mine and her fingers locked with mine, not looking away or letting go once.
“Do you, Leo Benetti,” the priest says, breaking me out of my trance, “take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I pause. I need to say yet, but to say yes means my life will change forever. Marco clears his throat from the pew. I look over at him, and he nods at me, silently telling me to say something.
Francesca’s hopeful gaze becomes confused as she waits for me to speak.
With a deep breath, I say, “I do.” It surprises me how easy it was to say given how much I never wanted this to begin with.
The priest turns to Francesca. “And do you, Francesca Moretti, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” she whispers. It’s so quiet, even I can barely hear her, and I’m right in front of her.
“What was that?” the priest asks gently.
Francesca flushes. “I do,” she says in a slightly louder voice.
The priest smiles. “And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
I cup Francesca’s face and lower my lips to hers, giving her a simple, lingering kiss. When I pull back, Francesca looks relieved.
She’s silent as we walk back down the aisle, everyone cheering around us, and out to the car that will take us to the reception. Francesca lets out a deep sigh when we get into the car. The loudness of the crowd is instantly muted once I shut the door behind us. The driver takes off.
“I guess that’s it,” I say, settling into my seat beside her. “We’re married.”
“We’re married.”
Neither one of us look at each other. And we don’t until we reach the venue.
I want to ask Francesca how she’s feeling, but I figure, because neither of us exactly asked for this, that I can reckon a guess. We’re just gonna have to make the most of this.
Francesca holds onto my arm as we walk into the reception, which is being held in the ballroom of one of the best hotels in the city. The moment we walk through the doors and the guests cheer for us, Francesca flinches and tightens her hand on my arm. I slip my own hand over hers, reminding her she’s not in this alone.
The singer of the band announces our first dance, and I lead Francesca onto the dance floor. The room is decorated in fine white and crystals. It’s like stepping into wonderland.
Francesca is tense as I place my hands on her hips, and we begin to sway. “Everything all right?” I ask.
“Everyone is watching us,” she whispers, nodding to the guests mingling around the dance floor.
“That’s kind of the point.”
“I know, but I hate it. It makes me feel like an animal in the zoo.”
I grip her hips tighter. “I have an idea. Place your head against my chest and close your eyes. You can forget all these people are here. It’ll be just you and me.”
Francesca eyes me warily for a moment before doing as I suggest. Her hair smells like flowers, and I lean in to get an even better whiff. Her arms tighten around my shoulders. We continue to sway together.
