Chapter 52
Wedding Day
One month later
I gaze at my wedding dress hanging on a rack in my mother-in-law’s guest room, wishing more than ever that my mother was here.
She was so joyful before the illness. In fact, she only let herself get down near the end, when the suffering seemed too great. Now, I believe she stayed strong for my sake.
At this moment, I recall my entire life and especially the past few months.
I finally mustered the courage to read my biological mother’s letter to the end. I won’t lie and say that what was there didn’t hurt me. She didn’t want me because everyone would know I wasn’t her husband’s child. How could she abandon a child based on hair color?
Her actions are incomprehensible to me, and as I’ve told Guillermo more than once, I was the lucky one in this whole story. Being raised by Mama Heloísa was a privilege. No amount of money could give me what she provided.
I look up, preventing a tear from escaping.
I’ve done this many times over the past few years—prevented the tears from falling, I mean. Guillermo noticed my tendency to always hold back the pain, the need to be strong, and taught me that there was nothing wrong with admitting to struggling from time to time.
When I lost my mother, I stayed strong because I needed to fulfill one of the promises I made to her—to be happy.
My love asked me to teach him how to live, but I need to learn how to do that too.
After moving into his house, it has become easier to keep the promise about being happy. Coming home from work every day and having a moment just for the three of us, witnessing Nina’s growth, and of course, enjoying our love story.
We talked and decided that one day we’ll tell Valentina who Layla was.
Without delving into the parents’ tumultuous relationship, we’ll just state the truth, including the fact that we were sisters and all the circumstances that led to that discovery.
I know what it’s like to grow up in the dark, not knowing my origins.
Even though I was protected and loved, there was always a question mark in my story. I don’t want Nina to go through that.
“Is something wrong?” Mrs. Isabel asks, entering with Valentina in her arms.
God, my little girl looks adorable in a long cream dress.
Of course, there was no possibility of any hair accessories. She still won’t let us put bows or clips on her. But she’s so beautiful that it doesn’t even matter.
“No, just pensive,” I reply.
My mother-in-law approaches. “Thinking about your mother?”
“Yes. She loved parties and would have been so happy to be part of such a big family like yours.”
“Like ours,” she corrects me.
Gradually, a bond has formed between my mother-in-law and me. Isabel Caldwell-Oviedo is a very loving woman, but she is also protective of her family, and that’s what made her suspicious of me at first.
“Thank you for accepting me so well.”
We both know what I’m talking about. Unfortunately, I can’t erase my blood ties with Layla.
“You are one of us, Olívia. You will be my son’s wife and my granddaughter’s mother. How could I not love you?”
“You didn’t seem to like me much at first.”
“Because I feared my son might be wrong about you. I don’t know if he told you, but Nina’s pregnancy was a very distressing time for all of us.”
As she speaks, Nina leaps into my arms, her little hands holding my face.
I look at her reddish hair and chubby cheeks, and I promise myself that I will do my best to give her all the love she deserves.
“But I have to admit I was wrong,” she continues.
“You make him happy, Olívia. Guillermo had to take over the business very early on and didn’t get a chance to enjoy life like a twenty-five-year-old would, but in these months he’s spent with you, he’s more relaxed.
He smiles, jokes around. Just the good you do for my boy would be enough for me to love you, but rest assured, I’ve adored you for who you are for a while now.
I tried not to judge you, but I was afraid.
For Guillermo, who from the start seemed completely enamored with you, and also for Valentina. ”
“I appreciate you keeping an open mind and getting to know me. I only had my mother, who was very present and gave me all the love she could, but it feels like a dream to join a family with so many relatives.”
“My God, are you two still here? The party is outside, folks,” Martina say, entering the room out of breath.
I look at the beautiful girl, just a little younger than me. She has a strong temperament. She’s bold and drives her siblings crazy.
“We’re almost ready, aren’t we, Princess Nina?”
She nods her head in agreement.
It’s time to start writing our story together.
Honeymoon—Angra dos Reis—Brazil
“This place is perfect. I could live here,” he says.
Guillermo is lucky. He has a beautiful tan, while I look like a tomato from being so sunburned. Despite that, I love the tan lines the bikini top gave me.
“It really is. People are so cheerful and laidback. I think I’m a carioca. What a funny term. Where do you think it comes from?”
We’re sitting on the yacht Guillermo rented. We swam for a while this morning. There are several other boats around us, all enjoying the Brazilian summer.
“From what I read before the trip, the term comes from two indigenous words: karaiwa, meaning white man, and oka, meaning house. Together, they obviously mean white man’s house.
The natives started using the expression shortly after the founding of the city of Rio de Janeiro, to refer to it—but as a kind of nickname for Rio’s residents, the term only started being used from the eighteenth century. ”
“Wow, someone’s studied local history.”
“I’m naturally curious. I never get tired of learning.”
“Thank you for agreeing to spend our honeymoon in Brazil. You’re fulfilling a dream, even though I haven’t been able to fully fulfill mine.”
Guillermo has tirelessly searched for my mother’s family. They had moved, not just houses but cities. When the detective finally located them, he found out that Mama Heloísa’s parents had already passed away.
There were some uncles, aunts, cousins, and nephews and nieces left in Minas Gerais, but that was it.
Still, I wanted to visit them, but I needed a translator. They don’t speak English, and my Portuguese is very limited. I can form basic sentences, but I can’t tell stories about Mama Heloísa the way I’d like to.
At first, I felt a bit awkward. They seemed hesitant, and I feared I was forcing a situation, but the translator explained to me that they were simple people and were shy. However, as the afternoon went on, they gradually loosened up.
My mother’s cousin, Nice, prepared a snack for us. When I said we didn’t want to be a bother and that just coffee would do, she replied, “I’m not serving coffee with tongue, Olívia.”
The translator explained that it’s a common expression among the people from Minas Gerais, meaning they would never serve just coffee but will always offer a variety of foods to accompany it as well.
So we tried fubá cake, corn bread, and several other delights, but what won Guillermo over was the cheese bread.
He fell in love with it and made me ask for the recipe.
In the end, I said goodbye with a hug and received a jar of doce de leite as a gift—which started competing with brigadeiro as my favorite treat—plus a bottle of aged cachaca.
It’s a distilled drink made from sugarcane and is one hundred percent Brazilian.
Guillermo said he already knew it because there’s a drink served at his hotels called caipirinha, which is prepared with this beverage.
“Don’t you know I would do anything to see you happy?” He brings me back to the present, responding to my gratitude. “Besides, it’s not like having you all to myself, dressed all day in a tiny bikini, is any sacrifice.”
I smile, and he pulls me onto his lap.
“I’m looking forward to reaching the city of Rio de Janeiro,” I say. “I can’t wait to ride the cable car to Sugarloaf Mountain and visit the Christ the Redeemer statue.”
“I love you, little firecracker. You have no idea how good your zest for life makes me feel.”
God, that beautiful smile of his kills me!
“Do you have any idea how sexy you look with all that golden skin exposed, declaring your love for me? I think I’ve had enough sun. Can we go downstairs and rest for a bit?” I ask coyly.
My husband looks at me with a fire I know all too well.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, already feeling my pulse quicken.
“I suddenly feel like having doce de leite for dessert,” he whispers in my ear. “On you.”
My face heats up, and I look to see if the captain and assistants are paying attention to us. “You shouldn’t say these things to me in public.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might not be able to wait until we get to the cabin.”