Chapter 45
Forty-Five
“Sometimes the most beautiful days are the ones that hurt the most, because joy, without the ones you’ve lost, takes its own kind of courage.”–Aria Boschett.
The moment we step into the boutique, a careful excitement settles over me. The kind I don’t trust, yet. A slim woman with olive skin and infectious energy greets us with a radiant smile.
“Ahh, the Boschett party! Welcome to Gracie Hiroshi Atelier Couture Bridal. I’m Lia, Ms. Hiroshi’s assistant,” she says in a crisp British accent. “Ms. Hiroshi will join us soon. Please, follow me.”
We trail after her through the boutique, and my eyes don’t know where to land.
The space is a dream rendered in silk, lace, and more.
Mannequins stand like works of art, draped in gowns that shimmer beneath soft lighting.
In ball gowns, A-lines, sheaths, mermaids, trumpet silhouettes, and fit-and-flares.
Veils, gloves, tiaras, heirloom-worthy accessories; each piece already knows it will be part of someone’s forever.
Lia leads us through the boutique, to the middle of the store, then guides us along the side of the runway to a seating area that looks straight out of the Victorian era. “Please take a seat. Which one of you is Miss Boschett?”
I pause for a beat, realizing that it’s my cue. “Um... yeah, right, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Lia.”
“Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations on your upcoming marriage, Aria.” Her eyes widen, then flicker with sudden panic. “Oh, Aria. Forgive me, Ms. Boschetti, please. I didn’t mean to address you so informally. That was very unprofessional.”
“It’s fine. Please call me Aria. Honestly, I would prefer that you do.”
Relief floods her face. “Wonderful! Then let’s begin.” She claps her hands. “I see you brought your mother and sister.” The words land like a blade.
The last time I saw my mother’s smile flashes in my mind–warm, proud, alive. With the same zoom, the memory, leaves and the truth rush in. She’s not here. None of them are, and it’s my fault. My chest tightens, and tears sting behind my eyes.
Unaware of the landmine she’s stepped on, Lia continues talking, her voice fading beneath the roar of grief in my ears. There will be no la mia piccola signora whispered in awe. No mom marveling over lace and buttons and no dad to walk me down the aisle.
Before I can crumble, Tasha steps in. “Hey, Lia,” she flashes Lia a polite smile. “You might want to let the bride introduce her party next time. I’m Tasha, Aria’s best friend, and this is Rosa, the groom’s aunt.”
Lia’s hand flies to her pearl necklace, horror flooding her expression.“I’m so sorry, Aria. That was thoughtless of me.”
I force steadiness into my voice. “It’s fine. Let’s not dwell on it.”
Lia nods, recovering. “Of course, may I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea… or perhaps something celebratory?”
“Bubbly,” Tasha says instantly. “It is a wedding appointment.”
“Coffee,” Rosa adds. “One cream, one sugar.”
“And you, Aria?”
I manage a smile. “I’ll have the bubbly.”
As Lia walks away, Rosa squeezes my arm. “You alright, honey?”
“Yes, a little nervous. That’s all.” It takes everything I have not to break.
Tasha, sensing the moment, gestures around the room. “These gowns are unreal. The photos didn’t do them justice.”
“I agree, Ms. Hiroshi is incredible.”
“Gracie’s been sewing since she was a child,” Rosa says fondly.
Lia returns with our drinks, and Tasha leans toward her. “Slow day today?”
“Not at all,” Lia replies. “We do one appointment at a time. It’s part of the experience.” She hesitates. “You must know Ms. Hiroshi personally. I’ve never seen her come in on her day off.”
Tasha whispers to me, “Or your mafia kingpin fiancé threatened to introduce her to the Hudson River.”
I can’t help it; a snort escapes me. Tasha bumps my shoulder. “That’s it. That’s the expression I want you to have during this appointment.”
Heels click across the floor. I turn to see a petite Asian woman with smoky eyes and dusty pink hair approaching. She resembles Lucilla just enough to be unsettling, but where Lucilla is guarded, this woman radiates sharp warmth.
“Hello, Aria,” she says. “Cyan’s told me so much about you.”
Before I can reply, Gabriel barrels forward and lifts her clean off the ground. “Gracie, bébé. What, no hello for me?”
“You slut,” she laughs, swatting him. “I’m trying to maintain professionalism here.”
“Aria doesn’t need you to pretend. When she met me for the first time, she nicknamed me the manwhore.”
“At least she’s observant,” Gracie shoots back, making me like her even more.
“Gracie, you wound me.” Gabriel clutches his chest in mock devastation.
Tasha, sipping her champagne, adds. “She just calls it like she sees it. My girl Aria ain’t no fool.” Tasha already knows Gabriel’s mafia alias is ‘The Angel’ because I filled her in during our flight. She agreed with my manwhore assessment.
“Hey, Gracie, Gabriel isn’t the only one here, you know,” Jake cuts in.
“Yeah, but I saw you a month ago when I visited Mom and Dad.”
“Shhh,” Jake presses a finger to his lips.
Gabriel smirks. “Little brother you’re sneaking around with Gracie behind Thomas’s back? Oh man, he’ll beat the shit out of you when he finds out.”
“It’s not like that, you ass. I handle all of her online web stuff. I’m her website designer, you fool.”
Gracie’s expression darkens. “Utter that name in my presence again, and I’ll snap your cock off, making you to a eunuch.” Gabriel raises one hand in surrender, steps back, while clutching his crotch with the other.
“Apologies. Apologies.” He even pretends to zip his lips shut.
“It’s about time someone got him to shut up,” Johnny laughs. “You’re looking good, Gracie.”
“The kid! You’re all grown up.” She nudges Johnny’s arm. “What a difference ten years makes. Now you’re taller than I am.” Johnny grins and kisses her cheek.
“It’s because of you that the nickname stuck.” Gracie claps her hands.
“Alright, boys, time to go.”
“What? Why?” Gabriel protests.
“One,” she puts up one finger, “it’s Aria’s appointment, and you’ve already monopolized enough of her time. Two, you gossip like old ladies and will blab about the dress to Cyan. So, bye. Get out.” The tiny, pink-haired woman escorts them out before they can protest, slamming the door behind them.
“I like her,” Tasha whispers in my ear, grinning.
Once the door shuts, Gracie turns to us. “Sorry about that. I forgot how they can be.”
I wave it off. “It’s fine, Ms. Hiroshi. I get it.”
She smiles. “Please don’t call me Ms. Hiroshi. That’s my mother, and trust me, she’s stuck up enough for both of us.”
Rosa steps forward and hugs her. “I’ve missed your sass.”
“You created my sass,” Gracie squeezes Rosa back. Once they break apart, Gracie’s expression turns thoughtful. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. When Cyan called me to tell me he’s getting married, I wondered about you.”
“Don’t be concerned. Cyan is intelligent, unlike my other son,” Rosa says with a tinge of sadness. “Whom we shall not name. The fool responsible for your pulling back from the family.”
Gracie’s easy smile falters, the sadness flashing across her face.
Thomas. She was with him before he married Lucilla.
Beyond the pink hair, Gracie and Lucilla look so similar it’s undeniable.
Thomas definitely has a type. But Gracie doesn’t let the emotion linger.
She takes a deep breath, straightens, and smiles tightly.
“This isn’t the place, Rosa. My goal today is to give Aria the dress of her dreams.”
The memory sneaks in unbidden of my father walking me down the aisle, I squeeze my eyes close. Damn it. Not today. Opening my lids, I muster a smile and turn to Gracie. “Let’s try on some dresses,” I say, even as my heart aches.
“That’s the plan. But first, your groom sent a surprise for you.” The door swings open, and Johnny and Gabriel return, dragging in a flatscreen that resembles a person-sized touchscreen cellphone. Jake sets it up, his fingers moving efficiently over the controls.
Curious, I tilt my head. “What is this?”
Jake presses a few buttons, and the screen flickers to life.
Three familiar faces appear. Nonna’s face fills it, with her vacant eyes and familiar lines.
Next to her sits Dr. Saaha, dressed in a yellow sari, her long braid draped over her right shoulder.
Pauline sits beside her, arm on her lap, presence serene, with her expression thoughtful.
The dam breaks. Full, uncontrollable sobs escaping, because joy without my family takes courage, and today, courage hurts.