Page 96 of The Road to You
The white gravel crunches under the tires as Antonio pulls into the courtyard of our parents’ masseria. My Alfa Romeo is gleaming like it’s just stepped off a showroom floor. He kills the engine and glances at me, one hand still resting on the steering wheel. He’s all dressed up, with a tie and everything, and the smile on his face is one of happiness and maybe a bit of pride.
“You sure you’re not going to faint?” he teases, and I know he’s just trying to ease the tension that’s been growing in my chest since yesterday evening.
I smile, but my heart’s pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. “Not unless she doesn’t show up.”
God, I hope not because I would… I don’t even know what I would do. I can’t even contemplate this idea without having a panic attack.
He snorts. “She flew across the world for this moment. I think she’s showing up,” he reassures me.
I know I shouldn’t be concerned, I’m pretty sure she loves me as much as I love her, but I can’t shake the nervousness grippingmy stomach. I’m not having doubts or anything like that. I just want this to speed up because I can’t wait to see her again.
I step out of the car, the late afternoon sun wrapping its golden arms around everything, the stone walls, the rows of olive trees, the linen tablecloths fluttering in the breeze. My family and friends spill out into the backyard, all dressed in soft hues, smiling widely, clapping me on the back, and offering congratulations.
My mother kisses both my cheeks. Her eyes are misty. “You clean up well,tesoro mio.”
She wasn’t thrilled for me to get ready at my brother’s house, but after seeing the chaos spiraling into the masseria yesterday for the latest arrangements, I was glad I made this decision. My mom needed a bit of rest to get ready, too, instead of fussing after me all morning.
“You crying already?” I ask, teasing.
Her eyes are watery, and I’m sure she has already shed some tears before I got here. My father is a bit emotional today too. I know because he’s fussing with his tie and the white rose on his lapel, similar to the one I have.
“I will be,” she says, placing her hand over her heart, “when she walks down the aisle.”
I swallow hard. I can’t think of a more emotional day in my life. I’ve never been so nervous, not even on mySerie Adebut. Not when I proposed and she said yes, during a pillow fight in our living room. We were laughing so hard we almost cried, and that was the moment when my lips popped the question, even before my brain processed what I was doing. But my heart was already on board with the idea for a long time. She smiled and said yes, then she smiled even brighter, and she said yes again. Then we made love and cuddled. It wasn’t the most romantic proposal, but it was our proposal. Our story started with animpromptu journey when we didn’t even know each other—who cares if the ring came a few days later than the question?
We walk through the courtyard and into the olive grove where we’ve set everything up: simple wooden chairs lined on either side of the aisle, strings of fairy lights looping between the ancient trees, petals scattered on the grass. The air smells like rosemary and earth and happiness. It smells like the joyfulness of the people here today, celebrating with us. It smells like home.
The officiant waits by the little wooden arch we built with my father. Antonio hands me a glass of water and claps my shoulder. “Deep breaths. Smile. And maybe don’t cry too soon.”
Easier said than done. It’s too late. My chest already feels tight, my heart is already thundering in my chest like it wants to jump out and run to her.
Then I hear it, the soft sound of the gravel creaking under the tires—the buzz of a small engine, light and uneven, growing louder. Every head turns toward the driveway that curves around the house.
When the nervousness almost eats me alive, I see it, a powder-blueFiat Cinquecento, older than both of us, with little white ribbons tied to its mirrors. It sputters to a stop in the shade of the olive trees, and the passenger driver’s door creaks open. Lena’s dad walks around the car and opens the passenger door.
And there she is, Lena.
Her dress is simple and elegant, with lace covering the white fabric that softly envelopes her curves. Her blond hair is twisted back with tiny flowers threaded through the strands. The sun catches the shimmer on her cheeks and the joy in her eyes, and I swear, for a second, the whole world holds its breath with me.
She steps around the door slowly, and the moment she turns her head and locks eyes with me, everything else disappears.
I feel it all at once: our first kiss, our laughter, the heartbreak at the airport, the quiet mornings in LA, the afternoons filled with cuddles, and the nights tangled in happiness and promises. And now this. Her. Here. Becoming my wife.
She walks toward me, each step soft and sure. When she reaches me, I take her hand in mine, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin.
“Hi,” she whispers, a soft smile playing on her lips.
I can barely get the words out in a whisper too. “You’re…sei bellissima.I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.”
She squeezes my hand, and I feel her thumb brush over my knuckles, steadying me when my voice cracks. We turn to the officiant together, our fingers laced tight, and I realize I’m not just marrying the love of my life. I’m marrying my best friend, my home, my future.
I let the tears fall, because for the first time in my life, I am full to the brim with love, with joy, with a quiet certainty that this is forever.
