My Father Traded Me for the Don's Sister, So I Married the Don novel · Chapter 18 of 32

Chapter 18: The Chapel

I chose a Thursday, because it was the day my mother used to say was lucky for bread.

The chapel stood at the bottom of the garden, a small stone room with six pews, a plain altar, and a window of old green glass.

Rosalba had scrubbed it for two days.

She had filled every sill with white winter roses, and she sat in the front pew in her good black coat, weeping already.

Silvio stood at the altar as the groomsman, in a black suit and a very dry expression.

"I have been given a flower," he said to me. "I'd like it noted that I didn't ask for it."

"It's noted."

"It itches."

Gemma pinched his arm from behind.

She wore a pale blue dress and the pearl earrings I had lent her, and she carried a bouquet of lemon blossom she had cut from her new tree that morning.

"Maid of honor," she whispered to me, grinning. "I've been practicing my face."

"What face?"

"The face of a woman who has never once cried at a wedding."

She was already crying.

The priest was a small round man with soft hands, the one who had married us the first time.

He looked at me in my plain cream dress and my mother's pearls, and he did not ask whose daughter I was.

He did not ask who gave me.

I walked up the aisle alone.

Luca waited at the altar in a charcoal suit with his sleeves buttoned at the wrist.

His eyes were wet.

I had not known he could look like that.

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