Love.
My heart beats with a wild rhythm when I think what I’m about to do. Nerves tighten my stomach, but they’re the good kind.
Lina fiddles with the dress, separating the layers of tulle.
“It’s fine,” I say.
My sister-in-law doesn’t look at me. She’s hiding behind the mass of golden hair that tumbles over her shoulders. “It has to be perfect.”
Josie fusses in her stroller.
“Hey.” I take Lina’s hand to still her. “It’s okay. The dress is fine. We’re okay.” Meaning both of us. This is emotional for her, more than what it should be. There’s more to her state than feeling sentimental about the ceremony.
Turning her face to the ceiling, she blinks away the moisture in her eyes.
I squeeze her hand, those same emotions clogging up my throat. “Don’t cry.”
She gives an awkward laugh. “Now look. I’m making you sad.”
Josie complains, making a ruckus with her rattle. I go over and lift my niece from the stroller.
“Oh, wait.” Lina runs to us and takes Josie from my arms, but not before I’ve inhaled the sweet baby scent of her hair. “I’ve just fed her. You don’t want her to burp on your gown.”
I give a soft laugh. “I’m so happy, Lina.” I brush a hand over Josie’s blond curls. “Really, happy.” Lina has asked me twice this morning if I am. I don’t want her to doubt it for a minute.
“I know.” She sighs. “Weddings bring back memories for me, that’s all.”
“You’re happy, right?”
She beams. “More than I can ever be.” Shifting Josie to her hip, she drags a finger under her eye to catch the tear that has spilled over. “It’s just that you look so beautiful, Zee. I can’t believe you made this dress.”
I look at the dress in the mirror. It’s a princess dress, down to the diamante detail on the meringue skirt. It’s not fashionable, but it’s me. It’s who I am. It’s hard to say if it’s genetic or my past that’s shaped me. Maybe it’s a little of both. Whatever the case, I’m comfortable in my skin. I’m designing the clothes I love, and I found a market for them. I’ve put frills and lace back in fashion. Romantic has become my trademark, and it caters for an existing need. My label is for women who like to feel feminine and who don’t shy away from going just a little overboard.
After everything that’s happened, our lives are finally back on track. I’m lucky. Thanks to celebrities like Vera Day, Zoe Hart became a leading international label in a short time. Maxime’s business is solid again. He won back his old clients and made new ones. Not having to look over his shoulder makes him more relaxed, although he still fights at the boxing club. That part of him will never be over. It’s him. It’s the man I love.
With our businesses booming, we can afford a bigger house, but we love the apartment. Leonardo has moved into Maxime’s old house near Cassis. Even if the house were available, we wouldn’t have wanted to go back there. We deserve a new start. When we need a nursery, we’ll upgrade to a house with a garden, but I’m keeping the apartment. It’s mine, and Maxime gave it to me with love. A lot of my memories were made there, and I’m embracing all of them, even the bad ones. Even Venice. Especially Venice. They hold a deep sentimentality, because everything that happened led us to this moment.
A knock sounds on the door. It creaks open, and Damian’s face appears in the crack. “Hey, Zee.” He looks at my face and the dress, and then he swallows. “Can I come in?”
“It’s bad luck to see the bride,” Lina says with a chastising smile.
Damian grins. “Only for the groom.” He comes inside and shuts the door.
We look at each other. I know what he’s thinking, because I see in his eyes what I feel in my heart. We’re back under a blanket in the dark, holding hands for comfort. All we have is each other, but in our make-believe tent we’re safe. We came a long way. I rescued myself with my fairytales, and Damian saved himself with his truth. We made it. We created the realities we wanted. We’re okay. We’ll always be, because no matter what, no one can take this strength away from us.
“Zee.” His eyes glitter with pride. “You’re lovely.”
“Isn’t she?” Lina says, blinking away fresh tears.
A look passes between them, something I can’t decipher, but it’s profound.
“I have something for you,” he says, taking a small box from his pocket and handing it to me.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
I flip back the lid. A pink heart shaped diamond on a thin platinum chain glitters on the velvet cushion. My breath catches. I know how rare pink diamonds are, how precious.