The Italian's Doorstep Surprise
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
The two friends hugged each other, but as the wedding planner knocked on the door and said, “It’s time,” Honora still felt the distance between them. As they went into the hall, she felt like she was leaving the world she’d grown up in behind, the world where things made sense. Because Emmie was right. In what world was it fair that Honora was suddenly rich, just because she’d slept with Nico, while Emmie, who’d worked all these years at a job she hated, still had so little?
Things could have gone differently, Honora knew. If Nico hadn’t insisted on taking responsibility, she’d be raising the baby alone, with very little income. In fact, that had been the most likely outcome. So Honora was lucky.
Just not lucky in love.
No, she wouldn’t think about that. She’d just be grateful for what she had and not let herself feel sad about what she’d lost forever—the chance of loving someone, and being truly loved in return...
“Are you ready?” the wedding planner asked brightly. Without waiting for an answer, the man turned to Emmie. “Now, you have to pay attention, when the music starts...”
“You look beautiful, Honora.”
Turning, she saw her grandfather behind her in the hallway. He was dressed in a tuxedo, waiting to walk her down the makeshift aisle on the bluff outside.
“You clean up pretty well yourself.” She was relieved to see him. Her grandfather would help steady her nerves, reassure her about the lifetime commitment she was about to make.
To her shock, she saw tears in his eyes. “I just wish your mother could be here.”
Her mother. Honora had a sudden flash of memory of the day before the crash. Her red-haired mother, Bridget, hugging her tight. Holding her close.
I love you, Honora. You’re all that matters. The light of my life. I love you.
It had been the last time she’d heard those words from anyone.
“No, don’t,” Honora gasped. She felt an ache in her throat that was as sharp as a knife. “Don’t...don’t make me cry. It’ll...it’ll wreck my makeup, and...the planner will yell and there will be a delay and cause everyone trouble.”
Patrick glanced toward the wedding planner scornfully. “Huh. Let them wait.” He leaned in close to his granddaughter and whispered, “Are you sure about this?”
She blinked hard to kill the tears and smoothed her face in a smile. “About what?”
“Do you love him, Honora? Nico? Your fella? Does he love you?”
Her smile dropped. She stared at him in shock. These were not questions she’d ever imagined her grandfather would ask. “You ask me this now? Right before the ceremony? After you were ready to shoot him with your rifle if he didn’t marry me?”
Patrick shook his head, his bushy gray eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t understand it then.” He ran a hand over his forehead. “After seventy-odd years on this earth, I didn’t understand till now, how wonderful it can be to love the person you’re married to. I didn’t know.” He looked up, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “Life’s not just about duty, Honora. At least, it shouldn’t be.”
What? “But you said...”
“The last two weeks have been the best of my life. Don’t wait until you’re my age to learn about love. Don’t make my mistake.” He put his hand over hers. “If you don’t love Nico Ferraro, if he doesn’t love you, then don’t do it. You can come live with Phyllis and me. You and the baby both. As long as you need. It’s your home, too.”
Honora stared at him, stricken.
“It’s time,” the wedding planner trilled. “Maid of honor, go!”
“Honora?” her grandfather said urgently.
“Of course Nico loves me,” she lied. “And I love him.” She tried to smile. “Let’s do this.”
But as she held her grandfather’s arm, and they went outside into the bright summer sunlight, she was suddenly afraid. Her grandfather’s change of heart troubled her more than she’d thought possible.
Life’s not just about duty, Honora. At least, it shouldn’t be.
As they walked down the makeshift aisle between the folding chairs, on the grassy bluff overlooking the wide blue sea, she saw her friends and neighbors, the people she’d looked up to and loved her whole life. She saw Emmie’s parents and her four strapping younger brothers crammed together, their shoulders overflowing the width of the folding chairs. She saw Phyllis beaming at Patrick, whose shoulders straightened a little as he walked by where his new bride was seated, and became visibly younger just at the sight of her.
Honora’s footsteps faltered when she saw someone she hadn’t expected—Lana Lee, Nico’s famous movie-star ex, looking glamorous and insanely beautiful, and wearing big sunglasses in the back row.
You’re so ordinary in comparison, her insecurity whispered. Why would he ever love you if he couldn’t even love her?