Chapter 17
Twenty minutes later, I inspect myself in the mirror.
That assistant knew exactly what she was doing.
Everything from the insanely sexy underwear, hold-up stockings and complimentary sparkling body mist she shoved in the bag, to the exquisite sleeveless wedding gown that is flowing with my body with every slight movement I make.
It wasn’t an expensive gown, but it sure feels like one.
I admire the delicate layers of off-white chiffon falling gently to the floor.
I trace the soft, simple lace of the V-neck plunging just below the breastbone because of the clever built-in straps.
I reach behind my neck to fasten the tiny buttons.
The dress is almost backless because the lace is cut out from the shoulder blades in a soft diamond shape to just above the waist. It makes my waist tiny.
It’s simple. It’s classic. It’s perfect for this wedding on an Italian gondola, floating on a canal in the middle of this crazy city.
My hair is teased into sleek waves, my lips are voluptuous and stained ruby red and my smoky eyes are huge, enhanced with black flicks of liner and fake lashes showing them off.
My locket sits nicely on my chest, and sparkly earrings and a sweet diamanté headband complete the look.
I slip my feet into some kitten heels that I brought with me and spritz myself with perfume.
Anyone would think I was really getting married.
I feel a pang of wistfulness as my head is temporarily clouded by my heart.
I text Matteo to let him know I’m on my way, pick up my beaded purse and close the door behind me.
It feels like a dream as I hitch up the skirts of my wedding dress to the ankle and walk along the carpeted corridors as people zigzag out of my way, no one batting an eyelid at the matrimonial attire.
By the time I reach the floor with the canal and gondolas on, I have passed four brides already.
I am not even out of place; there are so many people coming and going here.
I make my way to the gondola station, nervous excitement providing a spring in each step, as the charm of Venice, with its breathtaking architecture and stone-clad shopfronts, surrounds me. The ceiling is an almost cloudless blue sky, as though it is a bright sunny day in bustling St Mark’s Square.
Matteo is waiting for me. He is standing deep in conversation with Elvis Presley who is wearing bell-bottom white trousers lined with colourful rhinestones up the sides.
He has a matching blazer, dark oversized sunglasses, thick black sideburns and hair slicked back into a perfect pompadour. He’s certainly committed.
A giggle escapes my lips. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s insane. It’s thrilling. It’s exactly what my soul is crying out to do. I’m finally living an adventurous, messy, unpredictable life. And it’s everything I dreamed it would be, and so much more.
The icing on the cake is the way Matteo’s eyes light up when he catches sight of me walking towards him. He almost drops the clipboard that he’s holding. Even Elvis is grinning broadly.
‘Why, you’ve caught yourself a mighty fine filly, if I say so myself, ah-har-ha,’ Elvis drawls in a thick Southern accent. He obviously never comes out of character. ‘Are you two sweethearts excited? This is a mighty fine special day.’
I nod politely but I just can’t take my eyes from Matteo. It seems as though he has a thousand things he wants to say but is lost for words. He reaches for my hand, and that dreamy smile is all I need. ‘You look… stunning.’
‘Back at you,’ I say, leaning in close. I can practically feel the sparkles bursting from my eyes.
Elvis takes the clipboard from Matteo and hands it to me. ‘Just tick the box and sign on the dotted line and we’ll get your wedding vows underway.’
I can barely hold the pen for nerves, never mind read what I’m signing.
‘You two lovebirds make a handsome couple, that’s for sure,’ Elvis is saying as he holds my bouquet for me. ‘You seem perfect together. Have you been together long?’
Ah. Awkward.
‘No. Not long,’ says Matteo.
‘You sure give the impression that you have a happy life together.’ He takes the clipboard from me, hands back the flowers and leads us to a spectacular gondola, all white with elaborate gold swirls and edging.
The seats are a deep plum colour. There’s a gondolier wearing a striped T-shirt, a boater hat, red neckerchief and a matching cummerbund.
Matteo takes my hand and helps me climb down onto it, he follows, and lastly Elvis climbs in and sits opposite. We take our seats and Matteo shuffles closer to me as gentle romantic music begins to play. The gondolier croons along as he pushes us away from the jetty and onto the canal.
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this.’ Matteo’s face is lit up. ‘It’s insane,’ he whispers. He holds both my hands in his as we press even closer together.
‘It’s just another bonkers story to tell the grandkids,’ I quip.
Elvis winks at us. ‘Ready?’
We both nod nervously. It feels so real.
‘Now, not only is this little lady adorable, she’s happy,’ he says to Matteo. ‘And it’s your job to keep her that way for the rest of your days. Are you up to it, young fella?’
‘Yes. I am.’
‘Well, alright! Today is all about a promise. A promise to cherish one another, no matter what comes your way, with a love that’s tender and true.
A promise to stay honest and faithful when times get hard and confusing, ’cause they certainly will.
And a promise to remember that any place is paradise, as long as you’re together.
’ Elvis raises one of his thick black eyebrows and curls his lip as he gives us a piercing look.
‘Today is about celebrating the special bond you two share. If you keep loving each other the way you’ve been loving each other, that bond is bound to last forever.
Now, son, face your bride and… I see you’re doing it already. That’s a good sign.’
He peruses the clipboard where we have written our names.
‘Are you, Xavier Matteo George…’ Elvis tilts his head and checks with Matteo before continuing.
I totally forgot Matteo has the longest name in recorded history.
‘…Marie-Carmen Torrado Grande…’ Elvis pauses for breath. ‘…ready to take Constance Emily Cooper as your wife?’
‘I am,’ says Matteo, smiling.
‘Then repeat after me. I promise to never step on your blue suede shoes. Or treat you like a fool. I promise to love you tender, and never return to sender. Like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky with burning love. I’m just a hunk, a hunk of burning love for you.’
Matteo can barely stop chuckling as he obediently repeats every phrase while trying to gaze earnestly into my eyes.
Elvis is clearly enjoying himself too. When it’s my turn, I can barely keep a straight face.
‘I promise to never leave you in Heartbreak Hotel. Or have a suspicious mind,’ I say.
‘I promise to love you tender, and love you sweet, and never let you go. You have made my life complete, and I promise to always love you so.’ Our eyes meet and for a brief second, I wish with all my heart this was real.
‘You’ve chosen to exchange wedding rings, which symbolise the promise of lasting marriage and your devotion to each other.’
Matteo hands Elvis the boxes with our rings in.
‘Like a fountain of love, flowing endlessly, these rings and the love they represent will nourish you, in this life and the next. But remember,’ he says, dramatically and loudly, ‘the ring is only a symbol. It shows the world that you belong to someone, just as they belong to your heart. But as you wear them, it’s your care, devotion, and concern for one another that are the true signs of your love. ’
Matteo slips the ring on my finger, not taking his eyes from mine for a second. I blink slowly. The emotion is welling up inside me.
I gulp down the temptation to cry happy tears as I slip the golden wedding band slowly onto his strong and capable finger. The matching platinum band against the raised gold looks simple and elegant.
‘Lord have mercy, look at this beautiful love!’ yells Elvis to our gondolier, causing us to start giggling again. ‘Constance and Matteo, by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada and American Marriage Ministries, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!’
Matteo leans towards me, a huge smile on his face.
He has thoroughly enjoyed this experience.
It has been so much fun. Everything I’d want in a real wedding.
He kisses me lightly on the lips, leaving me tingling all over.
‘You look so happy. I wish we could stay in this moment forever,’ he murmurs into my ear.
I cup his face, a bloom of pride swelling in my heart. ‘Me too.’
Elvis stands up and spreads his arms wide as ‘Viva Las Vegas’ bellows from the gondola speaker. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he yells to all the passers-by, ‘give it up for Mr and Mrs Torrado Grande!’
People walking along the sides of the canal, bustling from shop to shop or scurrying towards the casino, stop to stare, cheer and clap.
It’s then that I remember we need to be floating under the bridge at dead on 3 p.m. I have no idea where my phone is to check the time and, as I cast my eyes about, I remember Las Vegas is the city with no clocks.
Matteo gets my drift instantly. ‘No need,’ he says, pointing at the bridge. The colour has drained from his face. I twist round to see what’s going on.