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“It’s an open bar.”
He chuckles. “Ouch.”
“Besides, I’ll likely be busy with all my bridesmaid duties.”
His eyebrows lift again as he glances down at my dress.
This time, I can’t stop my cheeks from burning as he eyes the gold silk gown that clings to every curve of my body, and compliments my tanned skin and mahogany hair.
“You’re a bridesmaid?”
“The bride is my cousin.”
“Is that so…” He rolls his lower lip between his teeth.
My eyes fall to his full lips, and the air leaves my lungs as I watch as his tongue darts out to moisten them.
I swallow, my throat feeling thick.
“Are you family or…” I let my question trail off, partly due to the fact that my brain seems to be malfunctioning from being in such close quarters with a man of his size and looks.
“Yes. The groom and I are very…close.” There’s a certain hint of amusement in his eyes as he speaks.
It must be a joke I’m missing, perhaps from past college days spent in a frat house on Greek Row.
As the doors slide open revealing the packed rooftop terrace where the ceremony is being held, he offers me a last wink before stepping out. “Well, enjoy the wedding.”
As he disappears into the crowd of guests, I roll my eyes, but I’m soon distracted by the sight of the terrace.
It’s almost midday, and the sun is beaming down over the guests, casting the space in a warm glow. Arches of soft pink peonies and white roses line the aisle, with rows of white chairs on either side, with gold ribbons tied to the back.
I take a moment to look around at all the guests, many already holding glasses of champagne that are being carried around on trays by waiters.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”
I jump at the sound of my father’s voice as he appears beside me, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulder.
“Ah, Papino,” I sigh, glancing up at my father.
His salt and pepper hair is styled neatly, and he’s wearing a crisp linen suit that I had picked out for him. “You look very dashing,” I tease. “I’m glad I didn’t miss anything! It’s been one thing after another, what with my alarm not going off, then my car wouldn’t start?—”
“Bambina…” My father takes my hand, squeezing tightly.
I turn toward him. A deep crease forms between his eyebrows, and his mouth is pulled down into a frown.
“Something’s troubling you.” I scan his face for any indication of what’s wrong.
Emilio Bellucci is not a man who shows much feeling, but his blue eyes are filled with nothing but sadness as he looks around at the bustling terrace.
“Yes.” He avoids my eyes.
“What is it, Papino? Is it Rosanna? Is she okay?” I glance around, my heart sinking in my chest.
Has she had second thoughts? Has the groom?
“No, it’s nothing to do with Rosanna.”
I let out a breath, relaxing just a little. If the bride and groom are still going through with the wedding, any other issue will be trivial.
