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“It was nice to meet you, Emmy,” Chris tells me right before we reach the end of the aisle.
I look into the blue eyes of this famous and incredible man, and all I can think about is Evan.
All I want is Evan.
For me, there is no one else.
“Nice to meet you too,” I tell him in a daze, unable to think about anything other than the fact that the man I’m in love with is sitting only a few feet away, holding hands with a woman whom I thought was my friend.
Chris and I take our places and Larisa is announced.
The entire wedding party is asked to stand as she makes her glorious, royal entrance. The minutes pass in the blink of an eye as the ceremony proceeds. Larisa and Gianluca hold hands, look into each other’s eyes, and say their vows.
“You are the one. You are my soulmate. When I’m not with you, my heart yearns and cries—my soul is lonely. I love you.”
I look toward Evan. He meets my gaze and, for a moment, it’s as if our hearts connect again, as they once did, when we were young, when we were children.
Perhaps we weren’t able to understand each other, but our hearts did.
Next to him, Carol is fuming.
Chapter Nineteen
Evan
“I think it was a little tacky, don’t you?”
“What do you mean tacky?” I ask Carol.
“Well, that whole … production. That Larisa girl walking out in that fancy, over-the-top wedding dress. I mean, it had such a long train. What was the point of that?”
As Carol continues to ramble and present to me her opinions on the wedding that we attended over the weekend, I look around the restaurant for the waiter. The man sees me and I signal him to come to our table.
“Evan? Are you even listening to me??”
“Yes. I think the point was that Larisa liked it. I don’t think we should be judging anything about the wedding. It’s what Larisa and Gianluca wanted. Who are we to say otherwise?”
“Well, I still say that it was tacky. What was with that cake? Olive oil and lemon cake with rose-flavored frosting? Yuck … I almost threw up!” She makes a vomiting noise.
“Gianluca is Italian. I think Larisa chose those flavors on purpose, to honor him and his heritage. They also met in Italy, so it makes sense. Plus, I thought the cake was really good. I’ve never had such interesting flavors,” I reply.
“You need to get your head checked. How did they meet in Italy, anyway? I thought he lived in Los Angeles or something.”
“Because he’s … Italian. I just said that,” I reply, starting to feel a little annoyed at her negative attitude. “They met during Jo’s bachelorette party in Italy. She accidentally took a photo of him, which led to a huge misunderstanding but…” My voice trails off as I realize she isn’t even paying attention.
The waiter arrives and I order a bottle of wine and some water. He leaves us two menus and walks away.
“And what about that flower girl?” Carol carries on, clearly still wanting to gossip about the wedding.
“Clem? What about her?”
“Well … isn’t she a little too old to be a flower girl? She was a teenager! I could see her braces from where I was sitting!!” Carol says indignantly.
“Clem is Jo and Jacob’s daughter. I’m sure she was chosen to be the flower girl because she’s like family to Larisa and Gianluca. Sure, she might be a teenager but … who cares? It’s not like there are rules around this sort of thing. Some people even have their dogs be their flower girls. It really doesn’t matter, Carol. Clem is dear to them.”
She makes a sour face and starts perusing the menu. “Oh, I’m so glad we came to this restaurant! I simply love Turkish food!”
“That’s great. I love it too. It’s one of my favorite restaurants in Boston. In fact, I used to come here all the time with—” I catch myself and cough loudly on purpose instead of finishing the sentence. I look toward Carol but she doesn’t seem to have understood what I was about to say. That or she’s pretending not to have understood. “I’m glad you like it, Carol. It’s good to have something in common,” I reply instead.
