Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Francesca shakes her head, glancing over at the woman. “Trust me; you don’t want any of this.”

“I’m gay,” my make-up artist states.

“Oh.” Meg pauses to consider. “Nope, I don’t think we have anyone for you, sorry.”

“I’m crushed,” she deadpans. Finally, she drops the last brush back in her make-up bag and collects her things. “My work here is done.”

“Speaking of people who vaguely hate me, has anyone seen Cherie?” I ask.

“Didn’t she send back ‘I’d rather die’ on the RSVP card?” Meg asks.

“Yes, but Maria assured me she didn’t mean it. Or, she probably did, but she was coming anyway.”

“Nope, haven’t seen her. I did see my old bodyguard though. Man, is he hot. I bet he can fuck a girl without needing access to her soul. I should hook up with him now that I’m a single lady. Do you think he’s into super pregnant exes of his occasional employer?”

“Good lord,” Francesca comments. “I’m gonna guess no.”

“I hate Colin,” I state. “He thought they were really killing Vince and he dragged me out of that goddamn house anyway.”

“He was doing his job,” Meg points out. “He’s freelance; he does what the money tells him to do.”

“Well, he can eat a dick.”

“I don’t think he rolls that way. Though, I’ll be honest, I will watch if he does.”

Francesca shakes her head at Meg. “You are a lewd woman.”

“Please, we all know who you married. Come at me with that lewd bullshit,” Meg shoots back.

I hold out my hand for Francesca’s phone. “Here, let me take a picture of you.”

I was torn between Meg and Francesca for my maid of honor. It was set to be a pretty easy job since I didn’t have a bachelorette party. Recalling my own feelings when I realized what it would be like to be Meg’s MOH, I felt like maybe it would be kinder to ask Francesca. But I didn’t want Meg to feel left out, either. Ultimately, in order to avoid hurting any feelings, I opted not to have a maid of honor at all. Meg joked that they’re all my ladies in waiting anyway.

All of my attendants are dressed the same in long, gorgeous, shimmery gold gowns. I bought them each a pair of white shoes that complement mine with ornate gold roses on the heel. Even though she doesn’t particularly like me, I asked Elise to be a bridesmaid. I learned my wedding is mostly about formality, anyway—Dante and Mateo seldom like each other, and he’s still one of his groomsman.

Mateo deviated slightly in making Adrian his best man instead of either of his brothers. Consequently, it will actually be Elise standing behind me in the MOH spot; she’s not having anyone else walk down the aisle on Adrian’s arm.

“Meg, get over here,” I say, beckoning her to stand by Francesca.

“No pictures, I’m too pregnant.”

“That’s not a thing,” I state, raising my eyebrows. “It’s my wedding day, you have to do everything I ask you to do.”

“That’s not how weddings work, Bridezilla.”

Nonetheless, she comes over and wraps her arm around Francesca. They both make ridiculously exaggerated faces of disgust at being so near one another and I snap the picture.

“Send me that,” I tell Francesca, handing it back to her.

Looking at it, she concludes, “We look like brats.”

“You are brats,” I state, pushing up out of my chair and heading for the mirror to see my bridal ‘do.

“No, not yet!” Francesca dives in front of the mirror, holding her arms out to keep me back. “Let’s get your dress and veil on first. You need the full picture.”

“Francesca, I don’t want to cry! Let me prepare.”

“Nope.” Meg grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around. “She’s right. Full effect or bust. Let’s get you in this dress.”

I peel off the white satin “Bride” robe and Meg brings over the gorgeous white fit and flare gown I settled on. The original ball gown I picked out didn’t work out since we had to move up the wedding and it wouldn’t be ready in time, but by that point my priorities were in much better order. This dress is gorgeous, and it doesn’t matter what I wear; I’m marrying Mateo today. I could wear a ratty T-shirt and still feel like a million dollars.

At least in a ratty T-shirt I would be able to go pee. This is going to be a nightmare. Mateo told me how long this wedding would last and I wanted to die. My feet are probably going to abandon my body before all is said and done.

I get the dress on while Francesca guards the mirror. Meg zips me up and retrieves my veil.

“This veil is way too long,” she tells me. “If I ever get married again, I want one of those cute little hats with the fishnet looking veil.”