Page 56 of Single Malt Drama
Marco
A month ago,if anyone would have told me I’d be standing at an altar waiting for my bride to make her grand appearance, I would have suggested they check themselves in to the psych ward.
But here I am.
The empty church seemed cardboard-plain compared to other Marchionni weddings. Then again, my mother had gone all out for Gabe’s and Joe’s big days. However, she wasn’t here, nor were my brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins or any other family members—except Hildie.
My former nanny was the next best thing to having my mom present. She’d kissed more boo-boos, held more hands, and cheered on more sidelines than my mom ever had. Now that I thought about it, Hildie’s attendance was better than having Ma involved and a hell of a lot less drama.
I just wish she was standing beside me instead of helping Nico get dressed. The thought stole the air from my lungs. I might have been okay with my mother’s absence, but I missed my brothers. All of them, even Enzo’s smug ass.
I’d always assumed Dante would be the one to throw my bachelor party, razz me mercilessly about my ball and chain, and get teary-eyed when the big moment came.
Father Brian glanced at his watch. “Perhaps I should go check on the bride.”
“I’ll go.” I’d left Nico and Hildie in the small changing room a half-hour prior.
The women had insisted it was bad luck for me to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony. While I doubted Nico would make a break for the exit, I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.
Is she having second thoughts?
The priest’s eyes lit. “Ah, I believe we’re ready to begin.”
I followed his gaze to the back of the sanctuary and smiled as Hildie hurried to take a seat in the first pew.
Nico stepped into view, and the oxygen left the room.
My God. She’s beautiful.
The white satin dress reminded me of something from the 1950s, only without the poodle and with some serious sex-appeal. The fitted bodice had just enough of a V-shaped neckline to hint at her cleavage without revealing too much for church. Likewise, the flared skirt hit at the knee and showcased her gorgeous tanned calves without showing too much.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. With her hair swept up in a French twist and only a hint of makeup, she looked like an angel.
Too damned good for me, that’s for sure.
Nico met my gaze and dipped her chin. The flowers I’d picked from my mother’s garden trembled, along with her hands, as she walked toward me.
I swallowed hard and ran my finger between my neck and collar. The room suddenly felt too warm, too confining, too everything. Holy shit.We’re really doing this. I want it. I want her for real, not platonic house. Not on a deadline. I want kids and a mortgage and forever.
Father Brian set his hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, my son?”
“Great. Never better. Give us a sec, will ya, Padre?” I turned and jogged down the aisle to meet Nico.
She glanced from me to the priest and back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” I took her hands in mine. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Yes, of course, but…” Her dark eyes brimmed with tears. “If you’ve changed your mind, I—”
“Come with me.” I pulled her to the back of the chapel, well out of earshot of the priest and Hildie. Searching her face, I whispered, “You’ll have another wedding one day. A big one with mountains of flowers and music and guests… Hundreds of people looking for free booze and food and a chance to see the most beautiful bride that ever walked down an aisle.”
Nico blinked so many times and so quickly, I thought I’d given her a seizure.
I wrapped my hands around her upper arms. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She glanced around as if she’d just realized where we were. “But Marco, I don’t need any of those things. You’re enough.”
“Me?” She can’t mean that the way I want her to mean it. Chuckling to hide my disappointment, I pulled her close. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you hit your head when you were getting dressed?”