Lucia
My leg is bouncing as I sit on the edge of the mattress, with my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I don’t know if it’s nerves or the kind of giddy excitement that makes you feel like you might float right out of your own skin.
To Romeo, this wedding might be a formality, a temporary arrangement, but to me, it’s everything. A dream I never thought I’d get to live. He may not love me or even want to be tied to me for the rest of his life, but I’ve already made up my mind. I’m keeping him.
I’m going to make this work by showing him we’re worth fighting for. That together, we’re stronger. He needs to see that I won’t let him down like others have in the past. That I’ll stand by him through every dark day and every storm.
I’ll love that man with everything I have.
I’ll be his calm in the chaos, his soft place to land.
His home, if he’ll let me.
I don’t care that my special day isn’t anything lavish like Arabella and Dante’s wedding. The only thing that mattersto me in this moment is the man I’ll be standing beside when I take my vows.
The only downside I can see about today is that my sister isn’t here to share it with me. I miss her so much, and my baby niece. She’s growing every day, and I hate that I’m missing it. Her cheeks are getting squishier, and although I’ve never wanted to be a mother myself, I love that little girl with every fibre of my being.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when there is a light rap on my door. “Luc, are you there?” I hear Romeo ask from the other side.
I leap to my feet and rush in that direction. “Yes,” I say, placing my flattened palms against the wood.
“Are you decent? Can I come in?”
I glance down at the beautiful dress he bought me to wear today. It fits my body like a glove. I’ve spent the last hour curling my hair and carefully putting on my makeup. It’s not something I often wear, but thanks to a YouTube step-by-step tutorial on smoky eyes, I’m pretty pleased with the end result.
“I’m decent,” I reply. “But you can’t come in.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s bad luck to see the bride before she walks down the aisle.”
And we need all the luck we can get.
I hear him chuckle before saying, “Fair enough. I’m going to place something by the door. You can come out and get it once I leave.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just something I thought you’d like.”
“Oh. Well, thank you, I think.”
“You’re welcome … I think,” he retorts. “I’m going to walk away now, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Father Flannery is here, so come out when you’re ready. We’ll be waiting in the main room.”
“Alright.”
I wait a few moments before I crack open the door and peek my head into the hallway. He’s gone. I glance down and see the largish brown box sitting on the floor.
I release a little squeak of excitement as I reach down to retrieve it before locking myself back inside my room.
It’s not heavy, despite its size, but I’m not game enough to shake it because I have no idea if the contents are fragile.
Gently placing the box down on the bed, I quickly lift back the top flaps. I gasp when I see what’s inside.
I remove the bouquet, a soft, fragrant mix of pink rosebuds in shades ranging from pale blush to vibrant fuchsia, that are tied together with a white satin ribbon.