Chapter 37
GIANNA
I barely slept and when I woke up my whole body was still burning with the harsh rejection from last night. But I refused to stay in my room with the curtains closed, watching movie after movie and drinking, which is what I would’ve done in the past, guaranteed.
Instead, I gathered up my mom and my sisters and insisted it’s high time we refresh our fall wardrobes.
Chiara finally had the stitches from her hand taken out yesterday, so she was in a great mood and agreed immediately, while Mom and Lidia didn’t take much convincing either.
Matteo wasn’t on duty when we left the apartment and I’m very glad for that. Not that I expected him to be. He usually isn’t in the mornings. And even if he was, I’d just ignore him. Who is he to reject me? I was ready to give him everything. Myself and my future. And he just walked out.
But I’ll have to unpack that some other time.
We’re at Bergdorf Goodman, in the private rooms at the top which they close off for us whenever we come shopping here.
Rich women have been shopping here, probably in this very room, for over a century and my dad sometimes jokes that me, my mom, and my sisters are single-handedly keeping it in business these days.
The plush armchairs and sofas are just as velvety soft as always, the room smells of roses and all the clothes they’ve brought for us to try have been divine.
Outside the window the day’s sunlight is diffused and soft, whiter than gold, just perfect.
I’ve rejected everything that even hinted at being gold until they brought up the shimmery dress I’m staring at now.
It looks like it’s actually made from gold, the spaghetti straps nicer than a lot of actual jewelry I’ve seen.
And that’s it’s only adornment. The rest of it falls to the floor like a sheet of melted gold, the slit in the side coming up almost to the hip and the folds of the scooped neckline revealing just the perfect amount of skin.
I couldn’t wear any underwear with this. And I wouldn’t want to.
“Get it,” Mom says, seeing me looking at the dress again. I tried it on a while back and hung it on the maybe rack, but I keep going back to it. “Gold looks so good on you.”
“I know.”
She runs her hand across the fabric of the dress. “I wish I could still pull off a dress like this.”
I look at her in total disbelief. She may be in her fifties, but nothing in her face or in her figure suggests it. “You could totally wear this dress, Mom.”
I take it off the rack and hand it to her. “Go on, try it on, you’ll see I’m right.”
She takes the dress, but then just stands there, looking at it with very sad eyes. Then she hands it back.
“Where would I wear it to?” she says quietly. “You should try it on again. I want to see you in it.”
There’s such longing in her voice for some reason that I find it impossible to refuse.
She’s sitting on one of the plush sofas, my sisters one to either side of her as I exit the dressing room.
I took everything off to try the dress on and am standing on my tiptoes because it’s so long.
And so beautiful. The moment I glimpsed myself in the mirror, I knew I’d be taking it home.
And the collective gasp from my mom and my sisters as they see me in it seals that deal even more.
“That dress is bomb,” Chiara says and winks at me, which I take to mean that she wants to add that Matteo will love it too. Lidia nods enthusiastically to her words. But Mom wipes a lonely tear from her cheek.
My heart sinks back down to the bottom of the pit in my stomach, where it’s been since the rejection last night.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” I ask.
She shakes her head, sighing deeply and wiping another tear away.
“No, really, what?” I ask and walk to her, the dress dragging on the floor behind me.
I take her hands and squeeze tight, feeling the wetness of the tears on her fingers. My sisters are looking at her with concern too.
She smiles a very tiny smile. “It’s just that… we should be shopping for wedding dresses for you girls. I want to see you settled so badly, what with everything going on. I want you to be happy and married and living your lives. Instead, you’re stuck at home or here with me.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Chiara says. “Better the devil you know.”
Mom, shudders, and I give Chiara a warning look. This is not the time to air all those grievances over arranged and loveless marriages. For a wonder, she looks away and stays quiet.
“The time for that will come too, Mom,” I say. “And I’m not missing much, I’m sure I’m not.”
I’d feel like a hypocrite for saying that, seeing as I’d just made a promise to myself that I’ll run away with Matteo if he’ll have me.
But he won’t have me.
So I’ve just made another promise to myself.
To stop being an idiot who thinks she found love with the first guy she’s ever kissed. To stop betraying my family and my duty because I like those kisses so much.
My family needs me, and they love me. Matteo doesn’t even want my body. There is no choice, so the choice is easy. I’m done with him.