Chapter 4 Sophia
SOPHIA
I dreamed about this day so many times.
What girl doesn’t?
Now that it’s here, it’s nothing like I could have imagined.
I’m not a child. I know reality rarely ever lives up to fantasy.
I mean, I was never going to marry the guys from my favorite boy band and go on a world tour with them, right?
I think there was a part of me, even when I was eleven or twelve years old, that knew that kind of dream would never come true.
A wedding is a different story. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with imagining a day full of joy, gripped by nervous anticipation, looking forward to watching the love of my life see me for the first time in my dress.
And the kiss.
I’m supposed to kiss him today.
In front of people.
Holy shit. Will this ever stop getting worse?
“You are absolutely gorgeous.” Emilia’s gentle voice snaps me out of the panic that was around three seconds from overtaking me. Her encouragement couldn’t have come at a better time.
Turning away from the mirror in Guilia’s bedroom, I hold my arms out to the sides and do a slow three-sixty.
The beaded lace draped over the sleek, full-length ivory satin is heavy, but the beads and pearls sparkle and gleam in the brilliant sunshine flooding through the window.
I got a sunny day for my wedding. At least one thing is going my way.
“Stunning,” Emilia assures me. “I only hope I look half as beautiful on my big day.”
“It’s a shame you guys couldn’t have a double wedding,” Guilia points out as she emerges from her bathroom after putting the final touches on her makeup.
She’s so fresh, effortlessly pretty, and sweet.
She’s loved by everyone who knows her. And Emilia somehow managed to make Luca fall so deeply in love that he was ready to burn the world down for her sake.
What I wouldn’t give to know that kind of love.
“Everybody deserves their wedding to be only theirs,” Emilia replies, winking at me. I can smile at her kindness, but really, I wish a second wedding would take a little of the attention away from this farce. At least she and Luca are really in love. I’m left with the other brother—the Grinch.
I know what that feels like. On a day like today, I wish I didn’t. I can only imagine it would make everything a little less heartbreaking if I didn’t have genuine memories to look back on. To compare this to.
“You must be out of your mind if you think I would allow you to marry that nothing! That nobody!” My nostrils flare while Dad’s voice echoes in my memory.
He was so cold, so cruel. He couldn’t have cared less that I had fallen in love, that he was breaking my heart and crushing my spirit.
Four years, and the wound is just as fresh and painful today when I think of what might have been.
Which is why I need to stop thinking about it.
“Do you want me to go down and get your mom?” Emilia asks, crossing the room in a long, lavender dress that floats around her legs when she moves. “In case she wants to take one more look at you before the ceremony?”
If she cared, she would be up here. “I’m sure she’s in the middle of a conversation with some important person or another,” I reply as lightly as I can, since it’s embarrassing enough that she can’t be bothered to help me get ready the way a loving mother is supposed to.
Then again, what do I know? I’m going off clichés here.
“Want me to take your flowers down for you?” Guilia offers, and I nod with a grateful grin.
We decided against bridal parties for this—Dante couldn’t find anyone willing to be a groomsman.
Granted, I’m only guessing that, but I would bet money on it based on our interactions.
I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be his friend. He’s got the personality of a doorknob.
Congratulations. You get to be his wife, instead.
It’s a ludicrous thought and enough to make me blurt out a soft laugh before leaning in closer to the mirror so I can make sure my pearl and diamond earrings are set firmly in place.
The delicate pearl bracelet on my left wrist belonged to my nonna, who would definitely hate everything about this day if she were still alive.
She stuck up for me, she saw me, she let me cry on her shoulder for hours after Dad forbade Enzo from ever seeing me again, much less marrying me.
The only thing I ever really wanted in this world.
Stop. Don’t. Over the years, it’s gotten easier to take those memories and block them away, but today, somebody threw away the key, and the door keeps swinging open.
I came so close to having the world, didn’t I?
Maybe a close call is all I can ever hope for.
Most people never get their heart’s desire.
A quick rap on the door makes me jump. It opens before I have a chance to say a word, but it isn’t Mom, and it’s not Isabella or one of the girls.
At the sight of my tuxedo-clad father, I flip the mental switch that allows me to pretend to be happy.
Satisfied, at least. A practiced gesture.
“Dad. What do you think?” Like I did for the girls, I give him a slow turn, gritting my teeth in the closest thing to a smile I can come up with.
I’m not going to cry and ruin my makeup.
My tears would only make him angry, anyway, and there’s nothing in the world more terrifying than watching blank rage fill his eyes and knowing there’s nothing to do but brace for impact.
He might be ill, but I know better than to underestimate him.
“Very nice, very nice.” Yeah, he’s less than disinterested, pulling out a handkerchief and rubbing it over his bald head. “It’s warm out there. We should’ve had this thing indoors.”
Exactly the kind of loving words every girl wants to hear from her daddy on her big day.
“The ceremony won’t be long, and then we can go to the tent where it’s shaded.
” The grounds of the Santoro estate have been completely taken over by waitstaff, wedding planners, and florists.
A massive tent covers practically half of the available lawn behind the main house, while the ceremony will take place on the other half.
“I made sure it would be short,” Dad confirms as he tucks his handkerchief away. I don’t see why. He’s only going to need it again for the fresh sweat beginning to bead. “The shorter, the better. I can’t be sitting out in that hot sun for too long.”
This is not the man I knew when I was a little girl. The dad I grew up with might not have been loving, but I adored him anyway. He could do anything and was my own living, breathing superhero. The strongest, the smartest. Always energetic, magnetic.
All I see in front of me now is a sunken-eyed husk in a tuxedo. “I guess we should get down there, get it over with,” I suggest. “Then you can rest a little before the reception.”
“Just one thing…” Is this when he’s finally going to be my dad?
There I was, thinking I was a grown-up, but nothing can keep me from holding my breath, hoping he can do better for me today.
Just this once. But I know the answer before he says a word.
I know it when his eyes harden before he lowers his brow.
“Make him happy. Don’t ruin this. I need at least one of my kids to do right by us. ”
So much for that. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. “I’ll do my best.”
It’s not the first time today I’ve thought about Alessandro.
My only brother, and he won’t be here. I had the same hero worship for him that I did for Dad when I was little.
He was so cool, always making me laugh and promising rides in his beautiful cars.
He would give me piggyback rides to the house and never get tired, no matter how many times I begged for more.
But time changes things too. I can’t pretend he is who I used to imagine when I was a kid. I don’t even think it would have been a good idea for him to show up here—he would’ve hated the thought of me marrying a Santoro. He probably would have picked a fight with Luca or one of their cousins.
This is it.
Walking down the stairs on my father’s arm.
It’s all a blur, every moment mixing with the next until all that really lands on my awareness are impressions.
Flowers everywhere. The photographer, capturing our every move as we walk through the main hall leading to the rear of the house, while two Vitali guards follow close behind. Even now, Dad can’t be too careful.
There’s no turning back. I’m standing in front of French doors that will open onto the back patio, then lead down to a white runner. At the other end stands my foggy, uncertain future.
“Everybody’s waiting,” Dad reminds me as my gaze sweeps over the hundreds of people sitting in long rows, anxiously awaiting my appearance, all surrounded by countless flowers in lush arrangements.
They aren’t the people who hold my attention when the doors open and everybody turns. It’s the black-haired man at the far end of the runner. A man whose chiseled face shows none of the joy or love I always imagined I would see at this crucial moment in my life—a stranger.
One whose brief peck on the lips after a lightning-fast ceremony serves as the most anticlimactic thing imaginable.
* * *
“Welcome home.” I can’t tell if my new husband sounds tired or bored as he ushers me into our home now that the last guest has left the grounds well past midnight.
My feet are screaming, and I would gladly take a pair of scissors to this dress if it meant getting out of it.
This has been both the longest and shortest day of my life.
I can hardly believe it’s over, even if it felt like an eternity sometimes.
Every picture, every dance, every speech.
Having to sit there and pretend to be any part of it.
As if I felt like anything other than a piece of meat in lace and pearls.
Now that it is all over and it’s just the two of us, there’s an obvious question at the front of my mind.
I don’t even want to look at Dante as I slide out of my heels and flex my feet.
He doesn’t expect us to sleep together tonight, does he?
I guess he might, consummation and all that, as barbaric as it sounds.
The thing is, and it has to be exhaustion making me feel this way, when I catch sight of his profile as he stands in front of the open refrigerator, I can’t ignore the slow sliver of excitement in my belly.
He was hot enough already when he wasn’t wearing a tuxedo.
But now? I danced in his arms at our reception, just once, but it was enough to give me an idea of his thick shoulders, powerful arms, and rock-hard chest.
“I should’ve asked if you needed anything.” He looks my way, and my cheeks get hot. “You thirsty?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” I’m nervous, and I am questioning my taste in men, but I’m fine.
He takes off his tie and leaves it on the counter before uncapping a bottle of water and gulping half of it all at once. The sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing shouldn’t make me stare the way it does.
I must be deliriously tired.
“This is a nice house,” I offer, looking around the living room.
I didn’t get much of a chance to appreciate it during my first visit, and of course, living here before the wedding was out of the question.
I’m surprised Dad didn’t lock me in my room until the rehearsal last night.
The Vitali family has been notorious for just about every flavor of violence for generations, but let’s all clutch our pearls at the possibility of a grown woman maybe having sex with her fiancé. What a joke.
Now, I have the opportunity to size up the place. The walls are a bland shade of gray, and it could use personal touches, but he’s a man who’s lived on his own for years. I wouldn’t expect him to be big on decorating.
“I’m glad you think so, since it now belongs to you too.
That reminds me, we’ll want to sign the new will I’ve had drawn up to include you.
” He finishes off the bottle of water and tosses it in the trash before popping the top buttons on his shirt and giving me a peek at his tanned chest, which makes my heart skip a beat before he has to ruin it by speaking again, “We can handle that in the morning.”
Well, well, well. He is seducing me right out of my shapewear. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll make sure it’s not too early, in case you would like to sleep in.
I normally go up to the main house for breakfast. You won’t find much here for that, but anything you want, you can find in the kitchen up there.
” He strolls toward the front door as he speaks, stopping with his hand around the knob. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What?” I ask with a disbelieving laugh. I must be imagining this. “You’re leaving? Where are you going?”
“I have work to do up at the house.” His brows draw together like he just remembered he’s supposed to pretend to be human today. “Oh, do you need help with your dress or anything?”
I don’t think my heart could sink any lower than it is now as I slowly shake my head. “It’s a zipper. The buttons on the back are decoration.”
“I see.” He hesitates, though, finally sighing softly before opening the door and letting in the noise coming from staff breaking down the rest of the tables and chairs outside. “All right. Goodnight.”
I can’t believe this.
I don’t know why I can’t.
Honestly, this is par for the course, right?
There hasn’t been anything normal about this whole situation, right down to the sparkling diamond bridal set on my left hand, which I had no part in choosing. I mean, I couldn’t choose my husband, so why choose the rings I’m supposed to wear for the rest of my life?
They weigh heavily on my hand, heavier than the layers of fabric I bunch in my fists before carefully climbing the stairs.
This is my wedding night, and I’ll be spending it alone, in a separate bed, while my husband runs back to the safety of his father’s study.
Because that’s all men like him are good at, I guess.
So what if it means leaving their women alone and teary-eyed?
Flipping on the light in the bedroom, I gaze down at the double bed the movers put together for me when I moved in. It’s inviting, especially considering the day I’ve had.
Before I can get out of my dress, I drop onto the bed when what’s left of my strength leaves me all at once.
Finally, in a room that isn’t mine, in a house that isn’t mine, I can let myself cry.
All of the tears I’ve stored up throughout the day, all of the loneliness, it all pours out of me in the form of racking sobs.
I knew when I lost Enzo, I might be losing any hope of a happy future.
I just never figured it would hurt this much when the future finally arrived.