Six Months Later
The sky burns orange behind me. I’m wearing my mother’s dress. It was her mother’s before her and her mother’s before that.
The breeze blows from the sea, salty and cool, the sunset one of the most beautiful I’ve seen since coming to Italy. A gift, maybe.
“Are you ready?” Gabe asks me.
I turn to him, look up into his handsome, sweet face. I don’t think about what could have been for him. I can’t do that anymore. He is here. He is alive. And I think he’s happy. Maybe he’s happier than he would have been if none of this had happened.
“You look really handsome in your suit, Gabe,” I say, adjusting his tie.
“Thanks, Gabi. You’re so beautiful. You look like mom. You make me remember her face.”
Tears warm my eyes.
“I think she’s watching us sometimes,” he says.
“Me too. I know she is.”
He smiles.
I think about all that’s happened. All the things I know. The things I don’t want to know. Like what Stefan had on my father that made him give me up in the first place. I don’t want to know that. I know it will be terrible and what I know about him is terrible enough.
I think, instead, about what he did. His final act on earth.
He saved my life.
He died to save me.
When I told Gabe, he cried. But then he said something unexpected and so wise. He said he was happy dad was at peace. I love that about him. I love Gabe’s innocence.
The old door of the chapel creaks and someone peers their head out. It’s Miss Millie.
“Ready?” she whispers.
I nod.
Gabe lifts the veil to lay it over my head, covering my face. Yellowed lace obscures my vision as I turn to the chapel, look at the old stone walls, at the tall, arched stained glass windows depicting scenes from the Bible.
When Gabe takes my arm and tucks it into his, the doors open and organ music trickles out, the opening notes of the piece Stefan chose. We step onto the carpet and Gabe squeezes my arm when the few people gathered stand and turn to us.
I breathe in the scent of incense, remembering Alex. Knowing he’s watching over us too.
I only glimpse Miss Millie’s face for a moment before the soprano begins her song, the music rising, and my gaze falls on Stefan standing at the end of the aisle. He stands alone and I think Rafa should be here. Rafa should be by his side.
I hope one day he can be.
But I can’t think about that now. Past is past. Today is the beginning of our future.
Stefan smiles as I walk toward him and I feel Gabe’s grip tighten, feel that tender, reassuring squeeze again. Stefan looks as handsome as ever, even as the hair at his temple has greyed a little, even as there’s one more crease on his forehead.
When we reach the altar, the priest speaks.
“Who gives this woman to marry this man?” he asks.
“I do,” Gabe says.
The priest nods, and I turn to my brother. He lifts my veil and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Don’t cry,” he whispers.
I respond with a loud sniffle and hug my brother. He hands me to Stefan and takes his place at my side.
Stefan smiles, squeezes my hands and kisses my cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you,” I say.
“And now you’ll stop crying. No more tears. Understand?” he asks, pulling back.
I nod and we turn to the priest and all I can think throughout the ceremony, as we listen to the mass, as we take our vows and exchange our rings, all I can think is how happy I am. How right this is.
How I belong here.
How I belong with Stefan and Stefan belongs with me.
And when the priest gives us his blessing and instructs Stefan to kiss his bride, I think this is it. This is my wedding day, even if on paper it’s months ago that we were married.
I remember saying to Rafa how it wasn’t the real deal when he congratulated me then. Well, this is the real deal.
And there’s nothing I want more.
Well, maybe a dozen of Stefan’s babies.
The End