My Pretend Romance in Sicily ✔ | 18+

ventidue.

Today was the day of the wedding rehearsal. With the wedding drawing nearer, only two days from now, it was of utmost importance to walk through the schedule and finalise all the little details.

"No!" Clementine screamed, stomping to the bottom of the stairs. "You girls must stand behind me!"

Taya and I looked at each other with pursed lips, eyes wide. I wrinkled my nose, fed up with Clementine's constant whining.

"She clearly failed geometry." Taya commented lowly and I snorted.

"Clem, how in the hell are we supposed to do that?" Rachel murmured, giving her friend a large eye roll and scoffing. "Has it occurred to you that the stairs end here, and you specified that you wished to stand at the top of them as well?"

Everyone was standing on the guest house stairs, organised in rows as we waited for Clementine's next series of nagging instructions. They were double stairs, spiralling into the first floor. The groomsmen stood on the other set of white steps, coupled exactly opposite from us.

I glanced down, analysing the current set-up. The covered chairs had already been placed, flowered decorations propped beautifully on tall pillars, silver draping's streaked across the entire ceiling.

I held the makeshift bouquet in my hands, my mouth setting in a hard line. Expression dulling, I sighed heavily through my nose.

Seeing as the foyer of the house was large and spacious, Clementine's aisle would simply be the entrance of the guest house, leading right up to the centre of the foyer. She would walk in from the corner of the entrance hallway, before strolling down the lengthy cream coloured carpet, and reaching the fore of the foyer.

The only problem was that she wanted to say her vows where the stairs met, right above us. Which would only complicate things more than they already were.

"Fine." Clementine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Daddy, we're changing it."

Sergio looked up from his novel, smiling at his daughter in the most dismissive, nonchalant way, before his eyes flicked back to the book he was reading.

"Raffaele, come down here." Clementine instructed and I heard him groan overhead. Her eyes narrowed, through gritted teeth commanding, "Now."

I glanced at him, snickering when I noticed how his hands were stuffed in his pockets, shoulders slumped back. Feet dragging against the floor, he moved sluggishly to the stairs, heaving down the side where the girls were standing.

I followed his figure, and as he walked, his gaze met mine. He clenched his jaw, and my smile dropped. I watched him expectantly, lips pursed once more, hoping that he would mirror a sign that assured he didn't hate me.

I waited.

Giving Raffaele my ultimatum was one of the most painful things I have ever had to do in my entire life. When I saw his face fall, heard the guttural whimper in the back his throat as the words poured out of my mouth like bile, my heart tightened in my chest. My emotions turned jagged and my insides toiled once the hurt in his eyes glossed over before me.