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“Thank you,” I say softly, as we walk out together and down the stairs. Cecelia is waiting, nearly bouncing on her toes as she stands there in a pretty dress of light blue taffeta with a frilly skirt, holding a small bouquet of white roses and sunflowers. Agnes picks up a larger, similar bouquet off of a side table and hands it to me, and I take it, giving her a watery smile.
I’m trying very hard not to cry today.
My stomach is in knots for the entire ride to the church. There’s ample security with us, and that only reminds me of the danger, of the possibility of something going wrong. I find myself wishing I had seen Gabriel this morning, if only because having him near seems to always calm me down, to make me feel safer. I don’t let myself think about why that is.
It feels too dangerous, given what we’re going to do today. All I can think is that I need to wall off every possible emotion, for as long as possible, so that I’m not even more hurt in the end. But it’s hard, especially now that I’m no longer sequestered in my room. I’m overwhelmed, afraid, tired, and on edge—but I also know how important it is not to let any of those feelings show, for Cecelia and Danny most of all. Gabriel and I have already talked about how important it is that they believe all of this, that there’s no sign of danger or worry for them to pick up on, and on that, we both agree.
Pretending is infectious, though. And as I try to seem relaxed and happy so that there’s only excitement for Cecelia, I can feel it creeping into me, making me feel as if I really am excited for this.
As if this is really the wedding day I should have dreamed of all along.
When we pull up in front of the church, one of the security comes around to open my door. I slide out, careful of my skirt—and freeze in place as I see who is standing in front of the church.
For a second, I think I’m hallucinating. That I’m so tired and overwhelmed that I’m seeing things. But then she walks towards me, and I know I’m not.
Clara is here. She’s wearing a gorgeous teal dress, strapless with a flowing skirt that splits up the side, her hair braided back and pulled up into a sleek updo. There’s a brilliant smile on her face, and she half-runs, half-trips towards me in her heels.
“Oh my god, these cobblestones are going to be the death of me.” She throws her arms around me, squeezing me in a tight hug. “You look beautiful.”
“You look—what are you doing here?” I gasp, and she pulls back, still grinning.
“Gabriel flew me out here. He told me to keep it a secret. He wanted it to be a surprise.”
“A—it’s definitely that.” I stare at her, still barely able to believe what I’m seeing. “It’s the best surprise. Oh my god—” I press my hand to my mouth, once again trying to fight back tears that could ruin my mascara. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
And I really, truly am. I feel a quick jolt of fear, the thought of what could happen if Igor attacks us here, but I shove it away. I know Gabriel, and I know he never would have brought Clara here if he thought that there was any chance that could happen. I know he would never have his children here, Agnes, people he loves and cares about, if he hadn’t taken precautions to make sure that Igor wasn’t somehow lying in wait for us.
He didn’t know about the day they broke into the mansion. A small voice whispers in the back of my head, but I push it away. He didn’t realize the threat, then. Now he does. And I know he won’t make the same mistake twice.
“Come on.” Clara loops her arm through mine. “Let’s get you married.”
Agnes thrusts a smaller bouquet into Clara’s hands, and it’s then that I realize she must have been in on this, too. I shoot her a grateful look as we walk into the church, and I breathe in the scent of old stone and incense, just as the doors open and the music starts.
For a brief moment, as Cecelia starts down the aisle first, Clara following her, I feel a jolt of fear that threatens to take my legs out from under me. I should have told Gabriel I couldn’t handle a church wedding, I think, fear turning my blood to ice, making me feel as if I’m going to fall apart. I should have told him that we had to have the priest come to the house, or something else?—
“Bella.” Agnes squeezes my arm, gently, where hers is looped through mine. “It’s okay. Look.”
She nods ahead of us, and I look up the aisle, and see Gabriel. Even here, at a wedding that isn’t real, arranged for my safety and nothing more, even with all of this going on that’s nothing more than a farce, seeing him calms me. It grounds me.
He catches sight of me, and his eyes widen as his gaze meets mine. His eyes slide down my body and back up again, and the look on his face, the smile that spreads across his mouth?—
All of this might not be real—but the smile on his lips looks real. The happiness on his face—it doesn’t look fake.
It makes me want to believe that Agnes and Clara are right. That there’s more to this than just what we need to do.
That this has something to do with what we want, too.
Just like that, the fear leaves me. I start down the aisle, Agnes’ hand comfortingly on my arm, and I keep my eyes on Gabriel. All the way to the altar, all the way to Agnes putting my hand in his as she goes to sit down, Clara and Cecelia standing to one side. Aldo and Danny are standing at the other.
The priest is in front of us. For a brief second, I think I hear the sound of doors locking, the heavy clanking of wood, and then Gabriel’s hand tightens around mine.
“You’re okay, Bella,” he says softly, his eyes meeting mine through the veil. “You’re safe. I promise.”
He knows. Of course, he does. He’s always known what I’m afraid of, since I first told him what happened to me. And he’s always known how to make it better, too.
I focus on his hands around mine, the warmth of them, the way they never make me afraid when he touches me. I focus on slowing the beat of my heart, on breathing, and I almost miss the vows until I hear Gabriel’s deep, rich voice murmur I do.
When it’s my turn, I manage the two words. I see Gabriel smile as I whisper them, and once again, I’m struck by the feeling that this is real. That at least some part of it is.
