Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
It looked like a dream. And it was—my dream wedding.
“You better not cry.” Camilla lifted a tissue to her eyes. “Because if you start, I’ll start, eh? Then my mascara will run, and I just met a silver fox out there who has my name written all over him.”
“What silver fox?”
“His name is Antonio.”
“That’s Matteo’s uncle. He’s handsome, but probably close to fifty.”
She grinned. “So if he and I marry, I will be your sister and your aunt, yes?”
I laughed and a breeze blew, carrying the faint scent of wine and lavender. Today couldn’t be any more perfect. My amazing sister was going to be my maid of honor. The last two years had given me more than I ever imagined possible when I’d first gone to see her pretending to be someone else. Camilla wasn’t just my sister now—she was my best friend, the person I could always count on, and hopefully soon, my business partner. I’d recently taken the Italian bar exam, and if all went well, we were going to open a practice together.
It’s funny, when I was little, every time I argued with my father, he would smile and say I was going to make one hell of a lawyer and that he could already see it: Bianchi and Bianchi. Now it was about to come true, just not with the Bianchi any of us had expected.
Yes, things were perfect now. Well, almost. Because my nonna wasn’t here.
Cassie walked in, her hand resting on her five-months-pregnant belly. “They’re ready for us, whenever you are.”
“Have you seen Luciana?” I asked.
“I saw her over by where the guests are seated a few minutes ago. Matteo’s little helper Tomasso had her hand. It looked like he was flirting with her. The guy she came with didn’t look happy about it.”
I smiled. “That’s Lorenzo. It’s okay. That’s…kind of his thing.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” I laughed.
Cassie squinted at me. “I think you have something in your hair. Come here.”
“It’s glitter. I put it there.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your day. By the way, I’m proud of you. When you showed me your dress, I was a little nervous about the strapless neckline. But you’re about to walk down the aisle, and I don’t see a single red blotch or a nervous bump.”
“That’s because I have nothing to be nervous about. I’m marrying the man I was meant to marry.”
Luciana walked in with her dad. “You ready?”
“I am.”
The music began—soft strings carrying an Italian love song Matteo had chosen. The guests turned in their seats as Cassie, Camilla, and Luciana started down the aisle with the groomsmen.
Matteo’s dad offered me his arm. “Thank you for letting me walk you down the aisle. It means the world to me.”
We started together, each slow step feeling like a louder heartbeat until I saw him.
Matteo stood at the archway, his jaw tense as though he was fighting every emotion all at once. When our eyes met, he broke—his lips trembled, and tears fell freely down his cheeks. The sight of it undid me. All the air left my lungs.
This man was the love of my life. And I had finally found my forever home.
When I reached him, he took my hands. “Sei la cosa più bella che abbia mai visto e io… io sono l’uomo più fortunato del mondo.” You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I, I am the luckiest man in the world.
I no longer needed to guess how his words translated. My Italian was fluent now.
The priest smiled, his eyes kind. “Before we begin,” he said, lifting a folded piece of paper tucked into his book. “I’ve been asked to read something very special that was given to me just this morning.”
I looked to Matteo, whose brow had furrowed. He seemed as confused as I was, and together we turned back to the priest.
“It’s a letter. From someone who couldn’t be here tonight, but very much wished to be.”
My breath caught in my chest.
The priest unfolded the paper and began to read.
My dearest girl,
If you’re hearing this, it means you’re standing in a white dress, probably fighting back tears—and I know you’re losing that battle already. Remember, darling: dab, don’t wipe.
Before I bestow the secrets to a happy marriage on you and your handsome groom, I must first confess to a tiny little white lie. I didn’t bring you to Tuscany and force you to spend three months in my old house because you were working too much—well, you were, but that wasn’t the real reason.
You see, I wanted to give you the chance to fall in love with Matteo, like I already have. I adore that man. Truly. He is a good soul—the kind who fixes my leaky gutters and pretends to need my opinion on a new wine blend just so I won’t eat dinner alone every night. They don’t make many like him anymore. Every time he left my house, I thought of you and how you two would be perfect for each other. I may have also checked out his rear end once or twice as he walked away. You’re welcome.