chapter 5

Aria

Rosa woke me up at five in the morning on Saturday with a cup of tea and a sad smile.

"Come on, sweetheart. Today you have to be the most beautiful bride in the whole city," she said as she opened the curtains.

"For who? He can't even see me," I said and pulled the blanket over my head.

"Then be beautiful for yourself," she said and pulled the blanket away. I groaned, but I got up.

The dress was hanging on the closet door. White lace, long sleeves, a long soft veil. It was the kind of dress I used to dream about when I was a little girl. Grace and I used to watch wedding shows on our old TV and pick our favourite dresses.

I never thought I would wear one for a man who couldn't open his eyes.

Rosa helped me put it on. She did my hair in soft curls and pinned the veil on top. When she turned me to the mirror, I didn't recognize the girl looking back at me. She looked pretty. She looked like a real bride. But her eyes were empty.

"Your grandmother would be so proud of you," Rosa said and wiped her tears with the corner of her apron.

"What was she like?" I asked. Rosa smiled.

"Strong. Stubborn. Kind to people who didn't deserve it. Just like you," she said.

I hugged her tightly. I didn't know when I would see her again.

Diane came in at seven. She looked at me and put her hand on her chest.

"Oh, Aria. You look beautiful," she said.

For a second I waited. Waited for her to hug me. To say she was sorry. To say I didn't have to do this.

She fixed my veil and said, "Don't cry today, sweetheart. It will ruin your makeup."

The Moretti mansion sat on top of a hill outside the city. It had tall black gates and men in suits standing everywhere. Every one of them had a gun under his jacket. I could see it.

My hands were shaking the whole time I walked up the stairs.

The wedding didn't happen in a church. It happened in his bedroom.

There was a priest standing at the end of a big bed. Around him were Don Vittorio, Marco, a few of their men, my parents, Julian, Camilla and Ethan. Everyone was dressed like they were at a funeral. Maybe they were. And in the bed was my husband.

Dante Moretti.

I don't know what I expected. Maybe a pale, sick man with tubes everywhere. There was a tube in his arm and a machine beside him that beeped softly, but he didn't look sick at all. He looked like he was just sleeping. Dark hair, a sharp jaw, long eyelashes. There was a thin scar near his eyebrow. Even lying down, I could tell he was tall and strong. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen.

I heard a small sound behind me. I turned my head. Camilla was staring at Dante with her mouth a little open. She had never seen him before. She looked at him like she had just seen something she wanted very, very badly. Then she saw me looking and quickly looked away.

"Shall we begin?" the priest asked.

The Don nodded once. The whole room went quiet. The priest started talking. I didn't hear half of it. My heart was too loud.

"Do you, Aria, take Dante Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband?" he asked.

I looked at the man in the bed. His chest was moving up and down slowly.

"I do," I said. My voice was so small.

Someone giggled behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

The Don signed the paper for his son. Then I signed it too. Aria Moretti. It looked so strange written in my handwriting.

No kiss. No music. No one clapped. Marco came forward and touched my shoulder gently.

"Welcome to the family, sweetheart. If you need anything, anything at all, you come to me. Okay?" he said with a warm smile.

"Thank you," I said. At least there was one kind face in this house.

Before everyone left the room, the Don stopped beside me. He leaned on his stick and spoke so quietly that only I could hear.

"Sleep well tonight, child. And whatever you see in this house, don't be afraid," he said.

"What do you mean?" I whispered. But he was already walking out of the door.

The party was in the garden. White flowers, a big cake, and a hundred guests I didn't know. They all came to celebrate a wedding where the groom was upstairs in a coma.

I stood in the corner with a glass of juice. Nobody came to talk to me. But everybody was talking about me.

"Is that the one who was in prison?"

"The Whitmores' other daughter. The jailbird."

"Poor Moretti boy. At least he doesn't have to see her." I held my glass so tight that I thought it would break.

"Look at you, all alone on your wedding day," Camilla said as she walked toward me. Ethan was behind her. She was wearing a red dress. Of course. Red at a wedding, so everyone would look at her instead of the bride.

"What do you want, Camilla?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just came to congratulate my sister," she said loudly. Then she leaned closer.

"You know, I didn't know he was so handsome. What a waste," she whispered. Then she laughed.

"Your husband will never touch you, Aria. You'll spend the rest of your life wiping a vegetable's face," she said.

"Camilla, stop," Ethan said quietly.

"What? I'm just being honest, babe," she said and pouted at him. I looked at Ethan. He couldn't even look at me.

"I hope you two will be very happy together," I said.

"You deserve each other." Then I walked away before they could see my tears.

Near the end of the party, Julian found me by the fountain. He stood beside me with his hands in his pockets for a long time without saying anything.

"Mom and Dad are leaving," he said finally.

I looked toward the gate. Diane and Richard were already getting into their car. Camilla was waving at the guests like it was her party. Nobody came to say goodbye to me.

"Okay," I said.

Julian looked at me. He looked like he wanted to say something. Something big.

"If anything happens here, call me," he said and put a small card with his number in my hand.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said honestly. Then he walked away. I held the card in my hand until the last car drove out of the gate.

When the party was over, a maid named Sofia took me upstairs to Dante's room.

"The Don wants you to stay here with him. There is a bed for you by the window," she said and pointed to a small bed on the other side of the room.

"Okay," I said.

When she left, I took off my veil and my heels. I sat on the chair beside his bed and looked at him for a long time.

"Hi," I said and felt stupid right away. The machine beeped.

"I'm Aria. I'm your wife now. I'm sorry you had to get stuck with me," I said and laughed a little. My voice shook.

I didn't know why I kept talking. Maybe because he was the first person in a long time who couldn't look at me with hate. Maybe because I was so tired of holding everything inside. So I told him.

I told him about Grace. How she worked two jobs and still came home and made me pancakes on Sundays. How she got sick when I was sixteen and I held her hand in the hospital until it went cold.

I told him about the diner. About Ethan. About how I thought he was going to be my forever.

"They say I did something terrible. That's why I went to prison," I said quietly.

"I didn't do it. I swear I didn't. But nobody ever believed me. Not the police, not the judge. Nobody," I said. I looked down at my hands.

"Maybe one day I'll tell you the whole story. When I'm brave enough," I said.

"And now I have a family. A real one. A mom and a dad and a brother. I used to dream about that every night," I said. The tears finally came.

"But I think they only wanted me so they could give me to you," I whispered.

I picked up his hand. It was big and warm. I held it with both of mine.

"Maybe we can be lonely together. You and me," I said.

"I promise I'll take care of you. I'll read to you every day. I'll tell you if it's raining or sunny outside. You won't be alone anymore," I said.

I put my head down on the edge of his bed. I held his hand and cried until I fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night. My neck hurt from sleeping on the chair. The room was dark. The only light came from the moon outside the window and the small green light of the machine.

I was still holding his hand. I lifted my head slowly to check on him. And my heart stopped.

Dante's eyes were open. Dark grey eyes, like a storm, wide awake in the moonlight. And he was looking straight at me.