Page 8 of Keeping My Bride

Chapter 5

Verona

ICAN’T BREATHE. I’m standing in the vestibule of the church, waiting to go inside…to be married…and my dress is too tight. It’s weird because I swear it fit me just a few minutes ago. But now I feel like I might pass out.

“Relax, Verona,” Dante’s soothing voice says from next to me.

“My dress is too tight,” I tell him, my voice rising to new heights in panic.

“Your dress is fine. You’re giving yourself a panic attack.” Dante steps in front of me, takes my hands in his and starts breathing in and out slowly. “Do what I do.”

At first, my breathing is rapid, but eventually I’m able to get it to slow down to match his level.

“See? Just a panic attack.”

I can’t help but smile at Dante. He always was so good at calming me down. When we were kids, I used to have panic attacks fairly often after my mother died. He was always there to make sure I was okay.

“You look handsome,” I whisper in the quiet room. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, and his hair is styled. I don’t get to see him dressed up very often.

“And you look gorgeous,” he whispers back, his eyes roaming down and then back up until finally resting on my face. A frown pulls down at his lips as he tells me, “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“It’s not about what anyone deserves or doesn’t deserve at this point,” I tell him with a dismissive wave of my hand. “We’re under contract to do this.” Tears burn my eyes. “I just can’t believe my father would allow this.”

“The Morettis and Vitales are all about money,” he says, and I can hear the contempt in his voice. When he notices me staring at him, he clears his throat and says, “Well, at least the Vitales are anyway.”

I shake my head. “I can’t expect Papa to lose everything because of me. He’s worked so hard all his life. Grandfather wasn’t a nice man. My father had to work his way up in the ranks to even be equal to my grandfather.” I stare down at my hands. “This has to be done whether I like it or not.”

“Well, I definitely don’t like it,” Dante spits out.

“What don’t we like?” my father asks as he enters the room. He glares at Dante and sternly tells him, “Go take a seat, Dante. The wedding will be starting soon.”

I watch as Dante opens the door and disappears inside the church. I catch a glance at some of the pews, the people seated who are waiting. I recognize some of them, while the rest are strangers from the Vitale side of the family.

“Papa, I don’t know if I can do this,” I say when the door closes, turning to my father.

“You can. And you will,” he says, his words uncompromising…and final.

I nod in agreement. I never was able to stand up to my father. My mother was the gentle, caring one of the two. My father was the disciplinarian. I learned from an early age to never question him or else there would be consequences. He was always quick to get his belt to get his point across, and I feared him as a child. I guess maybe a part of me still does.

The string quartet begins to play Canon in D, and my entire body seizes up. I can’t move. I can’t think. I’m about to marry a total stranger, someone I knew years ago when I was a little girl, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t say no. I can’t run away, like my legs are protesting to do right at this very moment.

“Verona,” my father whispers at my side. Perhaps he can sense that I want to flee.

I look up at him with tears in my eyes.

“You have to do this. For the family.”

I nod even though I’m screaming out no inside of my head.

The song ends. I can hear someone clear their throat from inside the church, and more tears build up in my eyes as the song starts over.

“It’s time, Verona,” my father tells me before pulling the veil down over my face.

When I give a final nod, he motions for the ushers to open the intricately carved doors before us. The people sitting on the pews immediately stand, all eyes on me.

My legs are moving, but I can’t feel them. I feel like I’m gliding. Maybe I’m moving on my father’s sheer will and determination alone.

Through the lace of my veil, I glance at the two families gathered on each side of the room. On the right are the Vitales, and on the left are the Morettis. I can see some of them staring one another down from across the pews. The families have been at war for years, for as long as I can remember.

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