“You don’t have to love him, you know,” she says softly, as though she’s given this a lot of thought. “I mean, maybe you will one day… I hope you will… But you don’t have to love him to do what’s right, Marie.”
I know we have to say these kinds of things to each other, but it’s still painful to hear the words.
A soft knock comes at the door. Gianna’s eyes flicker toward it and then back up to me in a last beseeching expression. “That's the car,” she says softly. “It's time, Marie. Are you ready?”
I nod stiffly. I'm as ready as I'm going to be.
Gianna stands in her fuchsia bridesmaid’s gown, a beautiful one-shouldered shift that we picked out probably ten years ago. I wish she didn't have to waste that dress on this day either, but I don't say anything about it.
She holds her hand out to me and helps me to standing. I look at myself one more time in the mirror and tell myself I'm just going to meet my Prince Charming. Maybe he'll swoop in on the way there and kidnap me. Maybe none of this will go down the way that I'm afraid it will.
Well, a girl has to hope.
Gianna leads me out to the waiting town car, festooned with silk flowers and ribbons. Jimmy Two-Fist opens the door for me, his cheeks all wet with tears. Jesus, he’s already a mess. What the hell is he gonna do during the ceremony? Sob like a little kid?
He kisses my hand before I drop myself into the backseat of the Town Car. Somehow I manage to give him a little smile and then tell myself that's good. That's good practice. I'm going to have to spend the whole day smiling at people whether I like it or not.
The ride to the hall is only a few minutes. I have no idea how Daddy got the White Smith Hall booked on such short notice, but everybody is here. As the Town Car slows in front of the entrance, a huge crowd parts. There have to be three hundred people standing outside waiting for me and I catch my breath in surprise.
“See? It's just how you thought it would be, Marie,” Gianna murmurs in my ear. I nod quietly, fighting back a wave of angry tears that threaten to burst from my eyes at any moment.
It is just how I thought it would be. Back in the days where I thought I'd get treated like royalty, I imagined a crowd of a hundred people waiting for me to arrive. I imagined this beautiful dress. I imagined how the door would open and I'd step out into the sunlight, shielding my eyes and smiling as pretty as I could before I stepped onto the white carpet that they rolled out for me.
All of it is happening, and I couldn't feel worse about it.
Daddy comes forward and offers me his arm. I curl my hand around his elbow gratefully and lean on him as he guides me toward the front doors and into the dark space beyond. He says something nice against my hair but I can't even hear him. I'm just trying to keep it together at this point.
The crowd follows behind us and we stand at the back of the room as everyone files into their seats. They have taken down the partition walls to expand the space to its full capacity, seven hundred people if I remember correctly.
Seven hundred people dropped everything they were doing to come and see Don Lauro's daughter getting married to this Russian monster, and we’re all supposed to act like it's the happiest day ever.
I want to die.
For long moments we stand at the back of the room. My core is trembling as I hear the combined rustling noises of a few hundred people all settling into their seats at once. A strange, thick hush falls over the room. Far ahead of me, I see Gianna taking her place in the short row of bridesmaids on the left side of the altar. On the right side, two burly Russian thugs stand there stiffly in their suits, trying not to flex their arms against the tight fabric. Arms as thick as tree trunks. Eyes as dead as coins.
And there in the middle: Roman. And just behind him: Alek. They wear sharp, midnight black tuxedos and thin ties. Their dark eyes pierce me from across the room. Alek is grinning. Roman looks resolved, like the priest is just about to loop a noose around his neck and he’s just made peace with God.
“I'm so sorry I couldn't get the Sacred Sister Chapel,” Daddy whispers in my ear. “Something about a cardinal’s funeral, can you believe it?”
I raise a couple fingers in the air to let him know it's all right. What else am I going to do? At least we are not doing this in a church. Maybe God can’t see it from there. Maybe he doesn't know what a terrible, terrible thing we’re doing today.
The music starts, and Daddy tugs me forward gently. He's walking me down the aisle. This is my wedding. It's really happening. I sort of want to run to the end, just to get it over with. Instead we have to take one step at a time, pausing in between so that everyone can turn around and stare at me.