"The veil goes down like this, under the flowers in her hair," Hugh says to my mother, coming up behind me. I watch them through the mirror as Veronica applies my makeup meticulously in front of me. My mother throws up her hands, backing up to give Hugh his space.
"Are you sure you don't want something for the nerves, honey? I had a shot before I married your father. Three, actually." Veronica gapes at her.
I chuckle weakly, unable to move my face. "Mom, I'm already married."
"You're fidgeting."
I smile. "I'm just enjoying this."
"Did Matteo really set all this up himself?" Veronica asks, glancing outside. The archway we'll be married under is being set up. My father and Cesar are outside, helping with the flower arrangements and white chairs, draped with satin. The flowers are purple lilacs... for first love. That was Matteo's hidden gem.
I think of him alone in the other room, just a room away and I'm hit with a wave of unease. He has no one beside him, no family. He had no one he felt important enough to bring to this weekend. Charles and I are all he has.
"Earth to Emma!"
I look up, finding my mother holding up the dress. She smiles. "It's time."
***
I gaze into the mirror, running my manicured nails over the creamy satin material of the wedding gown. Simplistic and bias cut, it's backless and conforms to the shape of my curves, the ones I do have. There are white forget-me-nots placed on the edge of my veil to match with the ones in my bouquet.
Veronica heeded my advice and remained simplistic for my makeup, going for a natural look. Since we'll be on the water, it should feel calm and carefree. I don't want to worry about my makeup.
"Oh, darling," my mother sighs, coming up behind me. She runs her hand over my arm. "You look exquisite."
I smile, turning to her. She pulls me in close. "I've always dreamed of this day. I'm glad you let me be apart of it."
"I want you to always be apart of my life. You and dad."
She pulls back, caressing my face gently. "I have to give you your something old and something new, borrowed, and blue."
I chuckle. "You remembered to bring them?"
"Of course."
She walks to her purse, pulling out a small box. "Okay." She opens it and I peer inside, excited. There's white lace, only a small piece. She lifts it up. "I thought this could be perfect to fold into your veil at the hairline. It was used on your Grandma Claire's veil and mine..."
I wait as she carefully mixes it into my veil. She backs up. "Perfect."
Next she fishes out a blue ribbon. "To wrap around your bouquet."
I chuckle, biting my lip, feeling oddly nervous. "Why do people do this?"
She pulls out the something borrowed. It's her earrings. The ones she wore at her wedding. Diamond studs. "It's a sweet tradition. It's been fun saving these."
I smile wide as put them on, finding when I'm finished that the outfit has come together nicely. She holds up a necklace last. "This is from your father and me."
It's a delicate silver chain, one that goes around my neck like a choker, clasping in the back with a row of diamonds that descends down in between my shoulder blades.
I blink, staring at it. "Mom, you shouldn't have."
"It wasn't just her." I turn, finding my dad at the doorway. He's in a formal tuxedo. It's the first time I've seen him so dressed up apart from his wedding photos.
I smile wider. "Dad, you look wonderful."
He shakes his head. "No, that would be you, baby. The guy is going to be pinching himself when you go out there."
"Have you seen him?" I grin, resisting jumping up and down as my mom clasps the necklace to my throat.
"The groom is leaving the building!" I hear Hugh shout from afar. There's shushing and laughter that follow and begin to bounce excitedly, just ready to get on with this.
"Shut up," Veronica exclaims, laughing.
"I love you!" I shout, unable to stop myself, earning a gasp from my mother. I hear Matteo's laugh, his carefree one in the hallway as doors shut.
My mom stomps her heel against the wood. "Emma!"
"I'll meet you outside, baby," Matteo replies warmly.
***
I lean against the stage from the reception as I watch my father embrace Matteo. He's had four brandies so he's probably seeing stars by now. My mother is beside them, holding Charles. The rest of the group stumbled to their cabins almost an hour ago.
"This was a fine reception, young man."
Matteo nods, pulling back. "Thank you, Jesse."
My mother is taking Charles for the night, insisted it really, wanting Matteo and I to have our time together. I reach out for Charles to say goodnight as my father stutters through his sentences with Matteo.
"Harriet and I, well, we worried about you. We treated you poorly."
"It's alright..." Matteo cuts in. I lift my lips from Charles cheek as my dad clasps Matteo's face between his hands.
"I'm glad it was you that married my girl. Your parents would be... very proud of you today, Matteo."
Matteo blinks back shock and I chuckle nervously, handing Charles back to my mom. "Alright, daddy. You better be getting to the cabin."
My father releases Matteo with a laugh. "I'm just trying to-"
"Dad, I love you," I say, resting a hand on his chest. "Goodnight. We'll see you at the beach tomorrow."
He smirks and kisses my cheek, nodding. "Night sweetheart."
My mother comes up and kisses my cheek as well. She stops in front of Matteo and smiles softly. "I won't get as emotional as my very inebriated husband but I will thank you for today. Thank you for making sure we were here."
Matteo nods, smiling warmly. "We're both glad you're here."
Charles tiredly reaches out for Matteo with one arm, flinging it in the air. He wants to be with him. I'm gazing admirably between them as Matteo extends his arms, letting Charles into them.
"We'll see you in the morning, bud," Matteo says, kissing his forehead. An exhale leaves my lips witnessing the intimacy. He's come so far in such a short amount of time. He hands him back to my mother, who smiles, turning to catch up with my father, who's stumbling in search for his lodgings, completely lost.
It's probably midnight already. The resort is quiet. The lamps are turned down. The orchestra is gone. I walk slowly towards the stage again, turning towards him. He's watching me, his hands in his pockets.
"You've never looked more beautiful," he says suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Neither have you."
He approaches me, in the dim light. "Was it what you wanted?"
"This was more than I could have dreamed of, really."
He smiles, stopping before me. "What do you want to do now?"
I flush as his eyes scan my features slowly. I don't want this night to end. I want to stay here. "I want you to play for me."
He chuckles, confused. "That was not what I was expecting you to say."
I point to the abandoned cello on the stage. "I actually have never heard you play, you know that?"
"Yes, I'm not as good as I once was."
"I find that hard to believe," I argue, grasping his open collar. He's lost the tuxedo jacket. The skin he has on display looks mouth-watering. "Please? For me?"
He sighs, looking back at the instrument. "Someone is probably on their way to clean this place up. What if someone hears us? We're not far from the resort."
I smile wider when I sense him folding. "Then they'll be in for a treat."
He rolls his eyes, turning. "One piece."
I clap excitedly, sitting down onto the edge of the stage. He grabs the large instrument and sits down, placing it between his legs. Reaching down for the dark bow, he glances at me. "Anything you want to hear in particular?"
I shake my head. "Surprise me."
He nods, pursing his lips in thought. Biting down on his bottom lip, he straightens, lifting the bow against the strings. I stare in anticipation, transfixed. He looks like he belongs with the instrument.
He has his eyes closed as his bow hovers above the cello. I've witnessed him prepare himself to perform before but he doesn't even open them when he glides his hand forward, creating delightful sound. The melody is a somber one, as I expected, and as his head tilts and bows gracefully to the deep, dark, bellowing melody, I witness a glimpse of the man I met.
His talent is even more apparent now than then. He truly can play. His hand holding the bow is steady and sure while the fingers of his other hand dance with the strings at the top of the cello. I'm smiling wide as the piece comes to an end and I see Matteo's eyes open slowly, as if entering back into reality from a dream. I lift my hands, clapping softly as he breathes in, setting the instrument aside. He stands and is bending down in front of me within moments.
My head falls back at the force of his mouth against mine but his hands catch the back of my throat, pulling me back just as quickly. I moan, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, truly ready to leave now.