He shrugged and slumped into his chair. This was one argument he would lose, and he knew it. But he didn’t have to like it. Francesca could easily see where she got her own stubborn streak and fiery temper.
“Mama, could you give me that small hand mirror so I can see the back?”
Donatella handed her the silver mirror and Francesca held it so she could make sure everything looked okay. Satisfied, she laid it on the edge of the dresser, but it tipped with the heavy weight of the handle and fell to the floor with a crash.
“Oh, no,” Francesca lamented, crouching down to pick up the shattered hand mirror. There were only a few slivers of the reflective surface left, the rest scattered on the floor. Slumping into her chair, she looked at the broken glass and shook her head. “Seven years bad luck,” she said. “As though I needed another sign.”
“Nonsense,” her mother chided. “Your nonna filled your head with silliness when you were a child. This means nothing aside from having to sweep up and buy a new mirror. Your marriage will be whatever you make it. And if you believe in your heart that it is doomed before it starts, you’ll be right. You must fill your heart and soul with joy, not fear, as you walk down that aisle, bella.”
Francesca hoped her mother was right. She should ignore the signs and try to make the most of her year with Liam. It was all she was going to get so she shouldn’t spend the precious time she had moping about losing him.
A gentle rap sounded at the door and Ariella stuck her head in. “Mrs. Orr, it’s time for you to be seated. I’ll be back for the bride and her father in just a moment.” She gave Francesca a quick wink of encouragement as they slipped out of the room.
Now was the moment Francesca was dreading the most. Five minutes alone with her father without her mother to be the buffer. Hopefully she could distract him with idle conversation until Ariella returned.
“How do I look, Daddy?”
The large Irishman crossed his arms over his chest and admired her for a moment before he spoke. “Like the saddest, most beautiful bride I have ever seen.”
Francesca frowned at him. How could he see into her so well? “I’m smiling. Why do you think I’m sad?”
“There’s something in your eyes. Something isn’t quite right about all this—I can tell.”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy.”
Victor stood up and walked over to her. He helped Francesca up from her seat and held her hand tightly. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you love him.”
Francesca fixed her gaze on her father. If she really wanted to back out of this wedding, this was her chance. All she had to do was say the word and he would have her on a plane to California before Aunt Beatrice knew what hit her. But she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t.
She had to answer him honestly, or he would know. He sensed a problem, but he was barking up the wrong tree. If he wanted the truth of the matter, he should be asking Liam these questions. Without blinking, she spoke sincere words to him. “Yes, I love Liam. Very much.”
“And you want to marry him?”
She did. It was fast, but she had fallen hard for her fiancé. Her trepidation was in knowing that no matter how she felt about him, their marriage would be over this time next year. How could she walk down the aisle knowing their wedding was a pointless exercise? Yes, it would save ANS and make a dying woman happy, but Francesca herself would be crushed in the process.
“Yes, Daddy. I want to marry Liam.”
His gaze moved over her face, looking for a thread to pull at to unravel the truth, but there was nothing to find.
Another knock at the door came and Ariella stepped in holding Francesca’s bouquet.
“It’s beautiful,” Francesca said as she took the flowers and admired them. There were pink and white roses, white hydrangeas and tiny white stephanotis. She’d given Ariella very little direction on this wedding, but with the bouquet, at least, she’d hit the nail on the head. Everything else would likely be just as perfect.
“Did you expect anything less?” she said with a smile. “It’s time.”
Francesca’s father took her by the arm and led them down the hallway to the terrace. When she got the cue, Ariella opened the doors. They stepped onto the balcony to the sound of music from a string quartet. A hundred people stood up from their seats and turned to look Francesca’s way as they kicked through rose petals down the aisle.
She was almost halfway down the aisle when she finally got the nerve to look at Liam.
Francesca had avoided it because she didn’t want to see the truth in his eyes. He would likely look nervous. Maybe even fearful for what he’d gotten himself into. There would be no tears of love and joy. He would not be beaming with pride after seeing the woman he adored looking more beautiful than ever before. She knew she would be disappointed. But she looked anyway.