“Go,” he hisses at me, and I turn to see the bridal party leaving. Izzy is standing there looking at me expectantly.
I go to her immediately. She takes my arm without hesitation this time. I want to feel hopeful, but I know she’s merely playing a part. Happy bridesmaid. All she ever does is play parts nowadays. I wonder if Sofia and Mia even know the real her.
Do they know the girl who once climbed a tree only to prove she could? Do they know that she broke her wrist when she was eight because she thought she could do a cartwheel into the river and ended up smacking her wrist against the bank? Or do they know the way her eyes light up when she laughs? How she’s ticklish behind the knees? Or how she never wanted to be anything other than a housewife who raised our children?
I have a feeling the answer is no to all of those, and that saddens me. I know she loves those girls, but I also feel like she keeps parts of herself back and I’m to blame. Before me, she was an easygoing, open girl. She would tell everyone her life story. Then I happened. Now she’s a watered-down version of herself. Never fully trusting anyone.
It kills me that I ruined her. I changed the once bright and bubbly girl into the cold and callous woman she is today. For that alone, I will be sent straight to hell.
As soon as we exit, Izzy pulls away from me. I don’t stop her now that I’m back in self-loathing mode. I don’t deserve to touch her. I don’t even deserve to be near her.
“Pictures! We need each of you over here to take pictures,” Sofia yells.
Izzy walks straight to her and hugs her. I skirt around the room to steal a glimpse of Izzy’s face. She’s beaming at Sofia, but I can tell there is still a tinge of sadness in there.
“Okay. I need the bridal party here.”
As they position us, I feel Izzy tense. They have all the men behind the women. They have us wrap our arms around their waists. The women then place their hands on top of ours. We are all turned to face the couple in the middle as they kiss.
Izzy shivers as my thumb draws circles through her dress. I can’t help but hope every picture requires us to stand just like this. For a moment, I’m able to forget the past and focus on the woman in front of me. The woman who stole my heart when we were teens and never gave it back.
I lean in and ghost a kiss on the back of her neck. She sucks in a breath.
“Gio,” she hisses.
A smile fills my face. She always loved when I kissed her there. I’m glad to discover that didn’t change.
“Change positions,” the photographer yells and breaks our moment. For a second I wonder if Bash would hate me if I killed her.
Does he really need pictures?
∞∞∞
After pictures are done, Izzy disappears. She’s obviously hiding from me. I don’t blame her though. I know I should have respected her boundaries. Lord knows she made sure I knew them five years ago.
Leave me alone, Giovanni. I want nothing to do with you. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even think my name. I want nothing to do with you or your fucking family. You say you love me? Then prove it. Respect these boundaries I set for you. Prove to me that you love me by letting me go.
Those were the last words she spoke to me before Sofia came into our lives. When we would have dinner at Bello Italiano, she would have Mia serve me. I never questioned it. I knew why. I ruined us, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
It wasn’t until Sofia and Bash made a play at love that she slowly started warming up to me.
I glance across the room from where I’m sitting. I catch a glimpse of her with Mia at the bar. She catches my eye and glares.
Okay, so maybe not warming up, but she has started talking to me again—even if it’s only to yell at me or curse me out. I’ll take it. I’m a masochist after all.
We have had several conversations since she came back into my life on a deeper level than just a chance encounter. Each one starts with me begging her to let me explain my actions all those years ago and ends with her telling me she doesn’t want to hear my excuses.
Doesn’t stop me from trying. One day she will listen to me. She still owes me a conversation from when I put her and the girls on Ivory’s list a couple of months ago. I haven’t called that favor in yet though. I want to wait until she’s a little more receptive of my words.
I watch her for hours as she dances with the girls. That’s all I do with her, watch from afar. I tip back my fifth scotch and stand up to make my way to her. She’s seated in a chair at the edge of the dance floor talking with Mia and Sofia. As I approach, I watch for her reaction.
She doesn’t tense though. Instead, she looks up at me and smiles. The smile she gives? It stops my world. I almost stumble as I make my way to her.
“Giovanni. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asks in a flirty tone.
My heart beats faster. Is she flirting with me? Am I dreaming?
I cut a look over to Mia and Sofia to find they’re just as shocked as I am, but I won’t let this opportunity pass.
