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So much.
This isn’t how I imagined my wedding. Not even close. For one thing, I always dreamed Nonna would be here, but she’s been gone nearly nine years now. The colors aren’t what I would have picked. The dresses. The guests. My father walking me down the aisle. None of it is what I want.
But what choice do I have?
My eyes are watering as I take Giosuè’s outstretched hand, letting him pull me to his side.
The priest clears his throat. “In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit.”
“Amen,” the assembly behind us answers.
My breath hitches, but somehow, I manage to answer with everyone at the appropriate times. The heaviness in my chest gets worse with each moment that passes. At one point, my head spins and I feel faint. Thankfully, the sensation passes, but no matter what I do, I can’t shake the heavy feeling that makes me want to be sick. It can’t even be blamed on not eating this morning, which Gia insisted on because, and I quote, ‘you’re already not going to fit into your dress as it is’. No, this is a deep knowledge that I’m making a huge mistake.
Nonna always told me to only marry a man I could see myself loving. I don’t love Giosuè and, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever will.
Why am I standing up here, marrying him?
I know why. Because my father said his life was in my hands and that this was the only way to save him.
A lump forms in my throat that burns when I swallow. Why didn’t I tell my father no? Tell him that he needs to fix his own mistakes? Why should I look out for him when he’s never looked out for me?
I look up at Giosuè and shake my head.
“I can’t do this.”
I say it low enough that only he can hear. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, speaking in the same low tone.
“Quiet, Isabetta.”
“Giosuè, I mean it. I can’t do this. I won’t.”
Giosuè scoffs. “You will.”
“No.”
The priest notices that we’re speaking and pauses, asking delicately, “Is everything okay?”
We answer at the same time.
“No.”
“Yes.” Giosuè’s eyes narrow. “My bride is just having a few nerves. Please, continue.”
But I’m shaking my head.
Giosuè grabs my arm, pulling me close.
“Isabetta, think carefully before you do this. I’m not a forgiving man.”
His gaze is hard, making me shiver. If I do this, there’s no going back. Everything in my life will change, and not necessarily for the better. I glance over my shoulder, my gaze landing on my father. He’s glaring, but the shocking thing is that I don’t care. If I do this, I’ll be free.
Hope blooms through me as I face Giosuè.
“Giosuè—”
“Sorry to interrupt the ceremony, but there’s a change in plans.”
People behind me gasp, and I turn to see who had the balls to disrupt a wedding, even though I was about to do the same. My lips part, and I have to blink twice just to make sure I’m not seeing things.
