7. Anna
Anna
I’m already awake, having patted the empty mattress beside me, realizing Vincenzo didn’t stay the night.
The fact I woke up alone doesn’t sit well, but it’s not like that’s not what’s been happening time and time again for the last few weeks.
I swear he needs less sleep than anyone I know.
After last night though, I genuinely hoped to wake up next to Vincenzo with his arms wrapped around me
A light knock on my bedroom door so different from Vincenzo’s turns my attention. “Come in.”
A slightly elder woman walks in with Saint the enforcer. He glances around the room before taking his station right outside the door. No, I am not going to hit the poor little lady upside the head with a closet rod.
“I’m Ms. Lottie and I’ve been asked to help you today. Her kindly gray eyes meet mine and then rake over the sheet pulled tightly to my chin as I sit against the headboard. Ms. Lottie gestures upward with her hands. “Time to get up and prepare for your wedding.”
When I don’t spring into action fast enough, she claps her hands together. “Saint, be a dear and start bringing in the packages.”
My eyes widen as he lets a couple women through with their arms loaded with packages.
Ms. Lottie gestures to place them on the table.
They’ve barely gotten their packages unloaded onto the table when another woman with a long dress bag across her arms walks into the room.
She looks around and heads to the closet and moves some of the dresses already hanging to the side.
“Here, we’ll hang it in the closet, and we’ll drape the train here,” she says taking another hanger to pin the ends, so they don’t drag.
Ms. Lottie clears her throat. “That will be all for now. Thank you, ladies.”
This little old lady is quite the dynamo. “Did you pick out my dress?” I ask as the door closes and I slip from beneath the bedding.
A smile touches her lips. “Vincenzo wouldn’t have allowed that. He picked out your dress and everything else down to the finest detail.”
Butterflies dance in my belly. Maybe this is what was keeping Vincenzo busy after he slipped out of my bed, but I’m not telling this woman any of that. “And what else did he pick out?” I ask as I walk to the table, curious about the boxes of goods that have been specially purchased for me.
She gestures to the box. “Open them. Don’t be shy. I can assure you at my age there’s nothing I haven’t seen.”
I give the woman a genuine smile. “You work for Vincenzo?” I ask, tentatively opening one of the smaller boxes tied with a red bow to find whatever it is wrapped in a cloud of white tissue.
Ms. Lottie doesn’t answer me, just watches as I remove the lacy white lingerie made of the softest silk and lace combination, the texture buttery soft to my touch. “These are very nice.”
Ms. Lottie is so quiet that I turn to see if she’s still there or has left the room.
Ms. Lottie is still there though, just taking the experience in with me.
I lay the dainties to the side and open another box, this one wrapped in a silver bow.
A handwritten card lays on the top. I open it up and my eyes moisten.
“Something old.” A picture of me and my sister, Sophia, together with Mamma and Papa before she died so many years ago.
My throat tightens with emotion looking at a copy of the picture always kept near the entryway of our family home.
I lay it down and open the next. A similar card lies on top of the white tissue. “Something new.” A single delicate strand of the most uniquely pink casted pearls I’ve ever seen. Ms. Lottie takes the box from my hand. “To wear with your dress today,” she says gently.
I pick up another box, this one with a gold bow, but a similar card stares up at me from this box too.
I open it and read the note. “Something borrowed.” A small pearl hair pin that matches the necklace sits in this box.
I pull out the delicate item. “It’s beautiful,” I say, touching the smoothness of the pearls.
“Who am I borrowing this from?” Ms. Lottie smiles.
“I wore it on my own wedding day many years ago, and now it will give the bride of the DeLuca boss many years of good fortune and marriage.”
The next box has a blue bow. Ms. Lottie gestures for me to open it.
“In Italy we add something gifted to the customary prewedding attire. This gift comes from Vincenzo, as did all of them really, but this one is his personal item. It’s both something gifted and blue.
” I pull it from the box and can’t restrain the smile. “It’s his favorite tie.”
Ms. Lottie nods, knowingly. “It is indeed, child. We’ll have to find a discreet place to keep this fancy little detail.” I’m suddenly overwhelmed with it all and give Ms. Lottie a big hug. “Thank you for being here today.”
She smiles at me gently. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now let’s get you into the shower so we can get you all prettied up for your wedding. Vincenzo is going to drive the entire household crazy until you’re standing by his side.”
It’s hard to even concentrate under the water, awash with so many emotions pulling me in so many directions.
Happiness, nerves, fear of what Massimo and the rest of the Rosellis will say, of the Gallini’s wrath when they find that Vincenzo DeLuca has taken what they claim as theirs to possess, but the emotion that climbs over all of that and bubbles in my heart is love.
Hearing Vincenzo say those words last night, the way he made love to me over and over again, and the handwritten notes and special gifts he picked to make this day as special as it can be.
The love for this man causes my heart to swell. After all I’ve accused him of, and all the baggage that comes with being a Cassone in a world of mafia men who want to literally crush that name, still he loves me, wants to put a ring on my finger and give me his name.
This feeling, the emotion, so different from when I first heard I would be marrying the dark- hearted DeLuca feels so much different. His love is what makes the difference and transcends all the obstacles life has thrown in our way into something we can overcome.
Together.
I slide into a luxurious bathrobe while the vanilla body cream soaks into my skin. Ms. Lottie walks into the bedroom as I begin towel drying my hair. “A stylist is on the way up for hair, nails, and makeup.”
“I see … do you know if we’re getting married here, or somewhere else?” The keen older woman’s lips move to the side. “Sorry dear, no details, just a day full of wonderful surprises, no?”
Clearly Vincenzo has been up to much more than sleep since I last saw him last. The next thing I know three women come into the room, all talking in Italian a thousand miles a minute, touching my face and lifting my hair, talking to everyone but me.
I give Ms. Lottie wide eyes, and she gives me a wink and a smile.
“You’re in good hands. Vincenzo’s cousins,” she explains.
“And you won’t get a thing out of them so don’t ask.
Sit back and enjoy. I’ll return in a while. ”
One of them moves the chair from the table by the window in front of the bedroom dresser and places two large pillows on it, gesturing for me to sit atop the magnificent little hairstyling throne they’ve created in front of the mirror.
I have no idea what I could give Vincenzo DeLuca as a token of my affection and newly expressed love on our wedding day that would have any sentimental value at all. Try as I might nothing comes to light, until all of a sudden, the answer flashes in my mind.