23. Matilde
Matilde
All week, I’ve had plenty of distractions to help me ignore my impending wedding. We went dress shopping. Maddalena squealed with delight when I asked her to be my Maid of Honor… even if she hates my groom. Zeta questioned me, early and often, about my thoughts regarding her son’s proposal.
But none of it felt quite real.
“He did not get you a ring of engagement,” Zeta tuts, glaring at my bare fingers. “I raised him better than this, I did.”
It hadn’t occurred to me. I fear an expensive ring would make me feel even more like a fraud. A marriage of convenience, a live-in nanny who will carry his name and enjoy his protection. An employee with better and unusual benefits.
“It happened quickly. He already gave me this,” I add, displaying my bracelet.
“Yes, well… There’s time enough for a diamond, but you are the picture of loveliness, my dear,” she gushes affectionately as she attaches my veil to the headpiece.
When she steps back, I study myself in the full-length mirror.
I feel lovely. The gown has airy sleeves that flutter when I move and exquisite pearl beading at the neckline.
The back plunges low, but the full chiffon skirt is embroidered with ivy leaves of the palest green among all the bridal white.
Yet, this seems like make-believe, too, like I’m playing dress-up.
“You are beautiful, Mat. This is from me,” Maddalena says, handing me a gift-wrapped box.
“Oh! When did you go shopping?” I ask, delighted. We’ve been sticking close as much as possible. She’s been worried for me while I’ve been worried she might do something crazy in her concern over Giacomo.
“Primo drove me when you were taking your last final,” she replies.
Unwrapping the gift, my eyes promptly fill with tears. “This is like the version Papà would read to me when I was small.” I compare the bracelet Nico gave me to the wood nymph’s image in the storybook’s illustration. “They might be twins,” I murmur.
A rapping knock draws me out of the moment as Zeta answers. “Francesca! This is a surprise!” she cries. “Come in. This is Francesca Vicini, girls, the Don of New York’s wife but also my Caterina’s dearest friend.”
Introductions are made, and the stunning young lady with red hair is certainly every bit as friendly as I would expect from Caterina’s dearest friend.
But I can’t help noting an uncomfortable tightening sensation in my chest. The Don and his wife traveled here for this occasion. My make-believe state is dissipating.
“Please, call me Frankie. I hope you’ll forgive me for crashing the party, but I’ve been so eager to meet you, Matilde. My cousins and Cat mentioned you often over the summer before Sofia, um… left. They told me you had moved here when we were together in New York for my reception.”
Over the summer after the horrible things that happened. Gia, Sofia and Cat who I may never see again. “Yes. Nico attended your reception,” I say, stating the obvious like a little fool and cringing when I recall her husband was originally engaged to Sofia. “I hope they are all well.”
Frankie’s smile dims a little, but the warmth in her blue eyes remains. “Gia and Cat certainly are. I don’t know if you’ve spoken to them lately, but Gia and Armando are getting married soon as well. At New Year’s.”
“Oh! That is wonderful to hear,” I exclaim, delighted for Gia to be with her true love.
“Did you choose the gown? I love the ivy leaves.”
Talk of the dress helps ease my growing distress, and Frankie raves over my bracelet. Maddalena mentions the storybook, and the three of us discuss the illustrations and the charm.
“I’m jealous. I didn’t get to choose my wedding dress.”
“Why not?” my sister asks.
“I didn’t think I’d be getting married that particular morning,” Frankie replies with a sly grin.
Zeta chuckles at the strange answer, saying she’s going to fetch the babies. She asks Maddelena to help her.
Once we’re alone, the Don’s wife’s expression turns unexpectedly serious. “Matilde, I understand how… difficult men in the Trio can be and how few choices girls like us have.”
“Girls like us? Forgive me, but your cousin is Capo of the West. You are the Don’s wife. I am nobody, the daughter of a dead soldier who was not part of the Trio. It is an honor for a girl such as me to be chosen by a man like Nico.”
Even if he does not love me. Even if he barely tolerates me.
“No matter who your parents were, you are worthy of being chosen, and I hope Nico will prove himself worthy of you. Our situations were not the same, I know, but my father was a traitor to the Trio. Believe me when I say, a year ago I never would’ve believed I would become Carlo’s wife, much less be glad of it. ”
I regret my churlishness, murmuring as much.
“I don't know Nico well,” she adds, “but he seems an honorable man.
Still, I know what it is to agree to a marriage versus it being something you wanted with all your heart.
We could be friends, you know. You have your sister and Zeta, but if you ever needed a friend to talk to or wanted help from someone whose husband is powerful enough to change things, I'm here. And I hope this marriage is something you want.”
What do I even say? It isn’t fully, but maybe it is a little. “I agreed. I have hopes we might… in time… come to…”
My words trail off, foolish words of foolish hopes, and our conversation is cut short by Zeta and Maddalena returning with the twins, but my heart is pounding incredibly fast while my corset is feeling tighter by the second.
“Look how adorable they are!” Maddalena cries.
She carries Amadeo who’s dressed in the cutest little baby version of a tuxedo, a dressy white onesie tucked into black pants with suspenders and a bowtie.
His dark hair has been smoothed down with a comb, and his judgy little face betrays his extreme displeasure.
Zeta holds Lucia whose pale green dress and bonnet is ornamented with embroidered ivy that matches the skirt of my gown. She’s absolutely precious, even gnawing determinedly on her chubby fist.
They’re six months old now with a handful of teeth between them, rosy cheeks and darling smiles.
And I am eighteen years old, freshly graduated from high school and about to become their mother in every way that matters. For the rest of my life, from now until I’m dust, there will never be a day when these two children will not occupy my thoughts, my plans, my prayers, my dreams and my heart.
Their father will be my husband. He does not love me.
He probably never will. But tonight, he will lay with me.
He might even wish to make me a mother again sometime soon.
A Capo’s life is filled with uncertainty.
He’ll want more sons to carry on his name, won’t he?
And he’ll arrange marriages for our daughters with men like him someday.
Cold men. Cruel men. Criminals. Torturers. Murderers.
“Matilde, are you-”
“No, I… I need a moment!” I shriek in Italian, dashing into the bathroom and locking the door behind me.
***
I haven’t felt panic like that since my abduction, but I’m regretting climbing out this window. It’s a long way down, much farther than the fall from my father’s wooden fence, and this trellis doesn’t seem as sturdy as the one at Nico’s house.
“What the fuck are you thinking?”
“That I am going crazy,” I admit, meeting Nico’s stern face. “Help me, per favore.” He does, wrapping his arms around my waist with ease and pulling me inside without even snagging my gown on the windowsill. “Grazie. I hope no one else saw that.”
“Were you going to jump?” he asks, still holding me.
I quickly shake my head. “I got… cold toes?”
He snorts. “You mean cold feet.”
“Yes. But that is all. I did not want to hurt myself.”
“Oh God!” Zeta screeches when she sees the open window and me in her son’s arms. She instantly turns on him, a mother bear going after a mob boss. “This! This is what you have pushed her to! Because you probably twisted her arm."
"You will find Matilde's arm untwisted."
"Don't get smart with me, Nico! You think I haven’t been married to a Capo for thirty years? You think I don’t know what you’re capable of when you’ve decided on something?”
“Mother-”
“Don’t ‘Mother’ me! Have you considered her feelings at all?”
“I wanted to speak to her earlier but you-”
“She’s terrified! She was shaking so much at the spa today that the esthetician couldn’t finish with her.”
“The what?”
“The woman waxing her unmentionable areas.” Nico’s eyebrows climb skyward as heat blasts my cheeks, and I really wish Zeta hadn’t brought that up.
“Mother, with all due respect, get the fuck out.”
“But you can’t see her in her dress before the ceremony!”
I can’t say why, but I start cackling at the silly, pointless superstition. “He has already seen me. Better he sees me than I fall.”
I make a whooshing noise followed by a splat sound.
And Nico’s rumbling laughter suddenly fills the small space.
I made him laugh. My jaw drops before my smile grows so broad my cheeks ache, and Zeta’s frantic expression softens.
His gray eyes, so stormy, latch onto mine, and some silent agreement passes between us. “Will you give me a few minutes with my bride?”
With one last look my way, Zeta leaves. Nico and I walk back into the bedroom. He paces to the far side of the room to close the door, looking very handsome in his charcoal gray wedding suit. He notices the storybook Maddalena gave me, opening the cover and murmuring something to himself.
When he faces me again, I quickly drop my eyes.
“Even hanging onto a trellis, you’re the most radiant woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
My eyes zip back up to his face, hardly believing my ears.
“What can I say to keep you from climbing out another window?”
I laugh softly at the question, and he does, too. “I like your laugh,” I whisper. The warmth leaves his eyes. Does he not believe me? “I do not know what you can say. I feel like I do not know myself anymore. Not since Papà told me…”
He steps closer, and my pulse thunders. “Most people spend the better part of their lives figuring that out.”
“What about you?”
He shakes his head. “My path has been laid at my feet since birth, but you’re young, and you have time to figure things out. Whoever you are, whoever you become, Matilde, you’ll be mine.” I can’t tell if I’m more annoyed or exhilarated at his possessiveness until he adds, “And I will be yours.”
Thinking of my father’s actions, I duck my chin. “But in the Trio, important men have the Seconda Notte. They enjoy women like my mother.”
“I won’t. I know marriage is not what you came here for, and I know I wouldn’t be any woman’s first choice for a groom.”
I frown, but he doesn’t allow me to interrupt.
He unbuttons his dress shirt, tugging it aside so I may see the three-headed wolf tattoo over his heart.
Butterflies fill my belly when he takes my right hand, placing it over the mark and holding it still with his own hand.
His skin is hot, and his heartbeat is strong and steady.
Warmth spreads from my cheeks down to my partially waxed unmentionable areas.
“For a Made Man of the Trio, an oath sworn on his tattoo is as sacred as any vow you can name. This wasn’t much of a choice for you, but I swear to you, if you’ll walk down that aisle and accept me as your husband today, I will be faithful, I will devote myself to your comfort, your safety, and your every wish so long as we both draw breath. ”
Giving him a tentative smile, I nod. He does not know my every wish, but I will hold him to his vow.
***
All the staring eyes, random coughs and even Lucia’s tiny whimpers melt away when I’m facing him at the altar a short while later. “Matilda Cerniglia, do you take this man…”
“I do.”
He slips a golden band on my finger, and the priest declares us man and wife. I wish that he would smile when he cups my cheek and leans in. He’s a stern man. So was my father. He’s stubborn, but I am stubborn, too. I will find a way to draw more smiles and laughter out of him in time.
With our noses nearly bumping, he murmurs, “Perdonami.” Why is he sorry to kiss me?
The question flies from my brain when he firmly presses his lips to mine for the first time.
The sound of blood rushing through my veins, his scent, the touch of his hand on my cheek, it dominates my thoughts…
until his tongue licks the seam of my mouth, a sizzling sensation that engulfs me.
I part my lips without a moment’s hesitation, flooded with desire from the merest brush of his tongue against mine.
Then he steps back, ending the kiss before I can fully savor it. Every inch of my body tingles, and I reach up, dazedly touching my lips while the guests applaud.