CHAPTER SEVEN
Antonella
The car is silent.
I sit with Gianna in the backseat. Claudio drives. My father on the passenger seat next to him. No one speaks. No one looks at each other.
My wedding dress rustles every time the car hits a bump. Simple white silk. Nothing fancy. The woman the Sartoris sent picked it out. She measured me. Ordered the dress. Arranged for alterations. All in five days.
The veil sits heavy on my head. Pins dig into my scalp. I didn't want a veil. But the woman insisted. Tradition, she said. As if anything about this wedding is traditional.
Behind us, Oliver follows in his car.
Gianna's hand finds mine. Her fingers are cold. Trembling. She hasn't said a word since we left the house. Just sat there in her pale blue dress, staring straight ahead.
We're all wearing funeral clothes to my wedding.
The thought almost makes me laugh. Almost.
Claudio turns onto a narrow street. Old brick buildings line both sides. A church rises at the end. Stone walls. Stained glass windows. A cross reaching toward the gray sky.
St. Michael's.
I've never been here before. The Sartoris chose it. Another decision made without me.
Two men stand at the entrance. Black suits. Hands clasped in front of them. They watch our car approach with flat, empty eyes.
Guards. Not guests.
Papa pulls to the curb. Kills the engine.
Silence.
No one moves.
I stare at the church doors. Heavy oak. Iron handles. They look like they weigh a thousand pounds.
In a few minutes, I'll walk through those doors. Down an aisle. Toward a man I've never met. A man who will become my husband.
My stomach twists.
"Antonella." Papa's voice is rough. Strained.
I don't answer.
He opens his door. Steps out. The cold air rushes in. I shiver beneath my thin dress.
Gianna squeezes my hand. "Nell?—"
"Don't." I pull my hand free. "Please. I can't right now."
She nods. Tears glisten in her eyes. But she doesn't cry. She knows I can't handle her tears. Not today.
Claudio opens his door. Climbs out. Offers his hand to Gianna. She takes it. Slides across the seat. Disappears from view.
I'm alone in the back seat.
The veil obscures my vision. Everything looks soft. Blurred. Like a dream I can't wake up from.