Page 96 of Last Comes Fate

Francesca

“Idon’t know, Frankie. I just don’t know.”

Even as she was getting me ready to walk down the aisle, Lea still couldn't help voicing her misgivings.

It had been two weeks since Xavier had proposed in the dark of night in my basement. Two weeks since he’d declared he’d make me his duchess and take me back to Kendal. And in those two weeks, everything had changed.

My man had been a flurry of action that extended to the rest of our life together. Xavier had moved upstairs properly, though he had insisted on exchanging his spacious king mattress for Matthew’s old double bed. I didn’t argue. After all, we made good use of the space, asleep or not.

The day after we told Sofia the good news, a wedding planner had turned up at my front door, prepared to take over my life and expedite our marriage. Meanwhile, Xavier had transformed the basement into ground zero to run both his restaurant empire and prepare for his meeting with Parliament, though neither was anything he wouldn’t interrupt for dinner at Nonna’s or taking me out on several more dates as we continued our reunion.

Now I sat in front of the vanity in Joni’s bedroom, having my hair teased out of hot rollers while the rest of my family was a bustle of activity in my grandmother’s house, helping me get ready for my wedding in a thousand other ways.

“Oh my God, Lea, give it up,” Kate called from across the room where she was working at a hastily set up craft table. “She’s getting married to the father of her children. Xavier finally got his head out of his butt and made things right. The man even subjected himself to your soggy manicotti to apologize to our entire family for what’s gone down. What more do you want from him?”

Kate was busy sewing last-minute alterations on the wedding dress she’d found for me at an auction. It wasn’t easy—my quickly changing shape required new measurements every time I tried it on until, at one point, Kate had thrown up her hands and declared she would sew me into it on the big day.

“My manicotti isnotsoggy,” Lea said as she gently coaxed another curl from a roller.

Both Kate and I coughed.

Lea frowned and pulled a little too hard on the next curl.

“Ow!” I reached up to lightly smack her hand. “That hurt!”

“So did the jab. That was Nonna’s recipe.”

“Well, it wasn’t Nonna who made it,” I said, earning a guffaw from Kate. “Ow! Fine, fine, your manicotti was just fine. I’m the bride here, in case you forgot. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

Lea grumbled but went back to her job more gently.

Everyone in my family had a job today. Lea was in charge of hair and makeup since she had almost finished cosmetology school before she and Mike had their first. Marie, back from Paris for the weekend, was keeping track of the caterer and pastry chefs, putting her own final flourishes on the food when Xavier could not. Joni was charged with getting the party started at the reception now that she was off crutches. Nonna was providing all my special somethings. She had gifted me a new lace garter and an old pair of pearl earrings that used to be her mother’s and lent me a beautiful pearl clutch she used at her own wedding, in which she had enclosed a blue handkerchief that had belonged to Nonno. Matthew, of course, was walking me down the aisle while his wife, Nina, oversaw the flower arrangements.

Xavier had told me none of the extra work was necessary. He insisted on footing every bill, and the wedding planner Elsie had found assured me money was no object. Every last detail could and would be hired out. It was as if I could flick a wand and have my will be done. But it didn’t feel right, somehow, to get married without having my family contribute. Zola affairs had always been group projects.

And this wasn’t only about me and Xavier. He wasn’t just marrying me, but the chaotic clan that came with. For years, I’d been supported by my sisters, my grandmother, my brother. They had raised Sofia and me together. I wanted them all to have a piece of letting me go.

“What’s Lea bitching about now?” Joni asked as she swanned in, wearing her choice of bridesmaid dress, blush-pink silk that still managed to look revealing and slightly too tight despite its floor length.

That really was Joni’s magical power—she could inject her brand of sexy charisma into a circus tent, and people would think it was the hottest new trend. I shook my head in minor awe as I accepted the “virgin mimosa” (orange juice with seltzer) she held out to me.

“She still thinks Frankie should wait,” Marie said as she followed her in, carrying a sample of foods on a tray. “Here, try these. The caterer stopped by with some samples before heading downtown.”

“I do not,” Lea said as she pinned a few locks together at the back of my head. “I just did her lips for the big day. And use a straw on that juice, by the way, so you don’t smudge your mouth. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about the marriage when I said I didn’t know—it’s about time Xavier made an honest woman out of her. I was talking about the hair. It should be bigger.”

“I already told you, I don’t want a beehive,” I argued. “I’m not trying to look like Priscilla Presley.”

“But you’re so much shorter than him! You don’t want to look like a child bride in your pictures, Frankie.”

“Lea,” I said in the no-nonsense teacher’s tone that I’d been using more with my family over the past two weeks than any child in three and a half years. “I am not interested in looking like a nineteen sixties go-go dancer or a place where local bees might want to hibernate. Xavier is fully aware of our differences in height. Honestly, I think he likes it. And I’m fine with it too. Besides, I’ll be wearing heels.”

“Big ones too!” Kate called across the room.

“See,” I said. “We’ll be fine. Just do it like we practiced, please.”

Lea grumbled something unintelligible but obediently pulled my hair apart and re-pinned it with a decidedly less hive-like appearance.

“Crap,” she said, shaking an empty bottle. “I’m out of hairspray. Hold on, I’ll see if Nonna has some more downstairs.”

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