Mixed Match

by MIA HEINTZELMAN

  She wasn't walking out on her family.

  Sophia would have done anything to avoid being like her father—and she wasn’t about to walk out on her family. She didn't want to be the one to leave. Even the move to Portland was tethered by time. It was never about leaving forever. Six months was stuck in the back of her mind. Boxes still lined the wall in the garage because it only ever felt temporary.

  Is this why I didn't fight harder for him?

  Once the laughter died down, Aunt Marian sat up straighter and squared her shoulders, dipping her chin to look Sophia in the eyes. "Now. Do you love him?"

  "Yes, she does." Julie glided down the hall toward them looking like some kind of ethereal goddess in an ivory cloud of ruffled organza and tulle with a diamond-encrusted sash cinched at the waist and a flowing, lace-lined veil. With the pure white and glitter of her dress against her golden bronze skin, she was a glowing watercolor dream of bliss.

  "Oh, my god." The three women on the settee oohed and ahhed in unison.

  Mom tossed the magazine on the end table. "Stop looking, right now."

  Sophia and Marian spun toward her, both gaping, both ready to pounce on Helen if one negative thing came out of her mouth.

  "This is the one," her mom continued. "It's gorgeous. Divine." Her hands were held up, framing the vision before her. "Nothing else will compare.”

  Typical Julie, she wasn't trying to hear anything Mom said. Apparently, the walls in the dressing room were about as thin as her tulle veil because she began to weigh in on the whole get Sophia's life back on track discussion.

  "This is the fitting, so I sure as hell hope this is the one. And as far as this Sophia situation goes, she loves Everett. I knew she was putty the second I met him when I went up there to Portland. Then, when I saw this fool balled up on the couch watching Michael Myers and eating Rocky Road...confirmed."

  The mothers hummed in agreement.

  "It was Strawberry Cheesecake." Sophia corrected her, laughing. "If you’re going to throw me under the bus, at least get it right."

  "Potato, potahto."

  "Oranges and apples."

  Mom snapped her fingers to break up the bickering. The whole salon stood at attention. "Then why are you running?"

  Floating on the carpeted riser in front of the full-length mirror, Julie rolled her neck at her reflection. "Don't be trying to send her back already. She may not need to go back yet."

  "Why?" Sophia asked, confused. "Why ‘yet?’ If it works, I can bring him to your wedding." Just the idea of him standing beside her while they witnessed Julie and Nico take vows of love and loyalty made her heart swell.

  "Just...because." Julie’s eyes were glued to the floor as she leaned back and teetered on her sparkly heels, looking guilty as all heck. But Sophia still wasn’t sure yet what she was hiding.

  Sophia cocked her head to the side and glared to capitalize on Julie’s discomfort. "Hmm. ‘Because,’ huh? Well, in this case, with such a strong argument…” A wide smile tweaked the corners of her mouth as she shook her head. “You do know you're a horrible liar, right? The dress is incredible on you, but you're still a liar."

  The woman was definitely up to no good. Sophia didn't know how, or what, or why, but Sophia was on to her.

  "Mm-hmm." Julie hummed, closemouthed.

  Somehow Sophia was going to find out what Julie had up her sleeve.

  "Let him wallow for a minute to figure out what he lost. Dang. Let him sweat for two weeks. If you need something to do, look at me and how hot I am in this Monique Lhuillier."

  Seriously, the woman could give a master class on deflection.

  The Sunday of the wedding was pure chaos.

  A rainbow of families and friends on both sides of the couple filled the pews of the picturesque church, now turned into an ivory and blush menagerie.

  The colors and theme were elegant and romantic, and at the same time classically traditional. Think lots of silk, low, shimmery lights, and flowers galore. Not a single surface, from the altar to the paved road in under the Alfa Romeo parked out front avoided being peppered with frilly, flowery garb and congratulatory best wishes. Everything was primed and set to launch Julie and Nico into la dolce vita.

  Talk about living the sweet life.

  Sophia leaned on the door to Julie’s dressing room, her heart and mind full, in the best way, with all the festivities and people. On one end of the craziness there were his loud, boisterous, hugging, Italian family members, who were downright aggressive about trying to feed Julie’s skin and bones. And then there was Julie's blended spectrum of black and white family with nonstop "advice." Mostly about never going to bed mad and learning the give and take both of dirty sex and clean fights.

  With his steely bicep wrapped around Nico's neck, Uncle Antoine could never be accused of being subtle. This is my little cousin you're about to marry. As long as she's safe and happy, so are you.

  It was no wonder Julie locked herself in the bride’s room.

  "Open up," Sophia whisper-yelled through the wooden door.

  After a few seconds she heard her cousin's muffled voice disguised as a deep baritone. "Who is it?"

  Julie has been hiding for going on half an hour now. Well, not hiding, because everyone knew where she was, but she wasn't letting anyone in. Sophia was denied once, but this time she came armed with incentives.

  "I have chocolate and alll-co-hol," she singsonged, knowing they were the two things her cousin was hard-pressed to say no to.

  Just like I thought. Click.

  The door cracked slightly, then she was yanked inside by a Wedding Barbie version of Julie, complete with sparkly tiara, lace-edged veil, and a sweeping ball gown even Cinderella couldn't resist. She replaced the latch behind Sophia with a swipe of her hand. Using her French-manicured fingernails, Julie pried the chocolate out of Sophia's hands and stuffed it into her mouth. And, with closed eyes and a satisfied moan, she finally relaxed.

  Here was this stunning, golden-bronze bride, draped in the most beautiful dress, going through chocolate withdrawals she was so stressed out.

  "Who else do I need to add to my hit list? Was it his Nona again?"

  Seemingly in recovery mode after scarfing down the entire chocolate bar, Julie lightly fingered her hair out of her face. She took a deep, calming breath...and then unraveled again.

  "I'm going to kill them. If one more person tells me about these damned Italian traditions, I'm going to scream."

  The woman was practically sniveling and snarling.

  "Ooh, you said damn in a church. I'm tell-ing!" Sophia was teasing, but she still felt their Sunday school superstitions clawing at her. She pressed her palms together and lifted her eyes heavenward. "I'm sorry, God, for me and this blasphemous child. But please give her a break. She is getting married today."

  But her attempt to get Julie to laugh, to break the ice, didn’t appear to have worked.

  "Saturday would have been way more fun, but they said Sundays were luckier for prosperity and fertility. Like, we haven't even exchanged vows yet and they're already hinting at babies." Her eyes were wide, and a pink flush crawled up from her neck to her cheeks. All the while, she rolled her eyes and neck, lips pursed in annoyance.

  "Do you know the woman actually told me it was bad luck to look in a mirror unless I removed a glove or a shoe? They're talking about cutting the tie I bought him, too. Who's going to pay money for half a damn tie? Ooh, ooh," she fumed, and swish-stomped around the room for good measure.

  Patting the counter to make sure it was clean first, Sophia propped herself up against the beveled edge, careful not to wrinkle the requisite fitted satin bridesmaid gown. With a nod, she signaled for Julie to continue with her rant.

  "Don't even get me started on throwing rice. How many birds do we have to kill in the name of luck?" Julie twisted the top off of the mini bribery tequila and took a long swig. "And do you see this?" She held up a frayed end of her delicate veil with a noticeable tear. "I have a fu
cking rip in my veil. Some fucking luck, all right."

  A knock sounded at the door. "Sophia, someone is looking for you, but it's time. We seated him on the bride's side," said a skittish older female voice. The voice was familiar. It sounded like one of Aunt Marian's church friends, but before she could ask for more details, they heard the click-clack of heels scurrying away.

  A giggle bubbled up inside Sophia. Julie really instilled the fear of God in these women.

  That's my girl.

  She chewed her lip and stared off into space.

  Who could be looking for me?

  "Probably just Nico's cousin, Gianni," Julie blurted before Sophia could put too much thought into it. "Apparently he's got it bad for you. I don't think he's ever been turned down before."

  "Good lord, this guy." He’d been a freaking stage-five clinger ever since Nico introduced them the week before. He was all hands and slimy kisses on the cheek, and no concept whatsoever about personal space. And of course, leave it to her mother to sneak him her phone number. The woman was such an off-kilter Sour Patch Kid—most times sour, sometimes sweet.

  "Mom is going to pay for that one." She playfully rolled her eyes, but then she caught sight of panic streaking through her cousin’s wide eyes.

  Julie jolted up, ramrod straight, like she was arming herself for battle. Teeth clenched. Her shaky feet causing the skirt of her dress to billow and vibrate.

  "Just breathe, Jules. I'm here. I'll kick their asses if you want me to…or, maybe I'll get Gianni to do my dirty work." Sophia winked and wrapped an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. When they were eye to eye, she let her smile dissolve for a split second. "All kidding aside, though, I want you to know you're beautiful and strong, and I’m so happy for you. You deserve all this, and so much more. I know your dad is looking down on you, smiling and celebrating with you because this is just the beginning of the blessings in store. And if you ask me, Jules, Nico is the lucky one, because he gets to have you."

  Julie’s eyes welled and reddened. She seemed to sniff and swallow back emotion as she flashed a quivering smile. Sophia squeezed her hand while she struggled to get the words out.

  “Thank you. I love you,” she mouthed.

  “Don’t mess up your makeup.”

  Sophia dragged her into a tight embrace.

  Today Sophia believed in happy endings, even if hers was still up in the air.

  Almost twenty minutes later the hypnotically soothing sound of Ave Maria swept through the church.

  Sophia stood beside Julie's best friend and maid of honor, Liz, on one side, and two more of her friends and Nico's sister on the other. They were all staggered on the steps and holding lush, bejeweled pink peony bouquets.

  Facing them on the other side of the altar were Nico and five pretty decent-looking groomsmen, four of whom were his brothers. And then there was the last one, Casanova, none other than Nico’s hyper-sexy, NC-17, greasy, lip-licking cousin Gianni.

  Just as Julie began her march and locked gazes with Nico, Sophia remembered what the woman outside the dressing room said. The bride's side. She glanced over at Gianni, staring at him for probably too long.

  Wait. He wasn’t on the bride’s side. And while he was looking at her, there was no sign that he was the one looking for her.

  If it isn’t Gianni, then who is it?

  While she should have plastered on her best over-the-top bridal attendant grin to watch her cousin take on the white mile, Sophia couldn't deny the sudden frantic beat of her heart. Her eyes darted to the pews on the left side of the church—her right, facing the door—where her family and Julie's guests were seated.

  With a tentative smile she panned past Mom and Aunt Marian, who were sitting with Stan and Otis. They really were adorably cute couples. Not far back, she saw Liz's boyfriend Derrick with a few tatted, muscular gym-type guys, all of whom looked incredibly uncomfortable in bicep-choking suits. Beyond them, she didn't recognize many more faces aside from Aunt Marian’s church friend, Mrs. Hill, who was hard to miss in a rather large purple sunhat blocking the back corner near the door.

  Still, she couldn't discount the niggling feeling that whoever it was might still be here. She’d been feeling antsy all day, like she was the one jumping the broom. Or rather, breaking the glass.

  The pastor began to read from his Bible, and Julie and Nico looked completely calm, as if their fate were decided by the stars and the moon above—for all the goo-goo eyes they were giving each other.

  From where she was standing, she couldn't see her cousin's face. But Nico's expression? Her heart overflowed to see what love could look like on a man in love’s face. His glowing eyes spoke volumes. There was this sort of urgency about his expression. Like he wanted the pastor to hurry up and marry them before Julie could get away. Like he gave someone a ten and got back change for a hundred.

  In that one moment Sophia could understand the Italian traditions around luck. Julie was his fortunate surprise. Somehow just being able to witness it made her feel lucky, too.

  Until she took one more look around the bride's side of the church.

  Mrs. Hill leaned forward, and now Sophia knew what all Julie’s deflection was about.

  She did have something up her sleeve—or rather, someone. A couple of rows from the back, off in the corner, there, in her city, under the same roof, was her Everett.

  He’s here.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  For a few seconds they locked eyes.

  A fresh wave of longing and desire slammed into Everett like he'd been away from home too long. He was overwhelmed by the urge to run to Sophia and beg for her forgiveness.

  "Isn't she lovely?" The older black woman seated on his right leaned over and whispered to him. She was talking about the bride, but he still couldn't tear his eyes away from Sophia.

  "Beautiful," he replied, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

  The most beautiful he’d ever seen. She must have seen him. But she only looked in his direction once, and now she just stood there, expressionless. Not a flash of anything in her eyes. Determination and adrenaline pumped through him back at home with Zo and Mike, but now they had evaporated. He didn't know exactly what he hoped she'd do when she saw him.

  For God’s sake, they were at a wedding ceremony where two people were vowing to spend the rest of their natural lives together.

  Did he really expect her to drop the flowers and run to him?

  It was unreasonable, and he knew it. Still, everything notwithstanding, the rationale didn't settle the sinking feeling in his stomach. It sure as hell did little to patch up the gaping hole in his heart.

  Her unblinking, deer-in-the-headlights look wasn't much to go by, but it was enough to make him pay attention.

  When the elder woman's warm hand covered his, he turned to her, for the first time really looking at her. She was full-figured, with soft skin and kind eyes. There was a small beauty mark on her left cheekbone, and her complexion was a lighter shade of brown, but she reminded him of Babs. The impulse to hug her gripped his heart and squeezed.

  "I hear she's back from Portland. Getting over some fella she met up there." She winked and smiled. "Why don't you go on and talk to her at the reception?" She patted his hand and turned her attention back to the altar.

  Everett's mouth fell open and he couldn't stop staring. Not because the woman knew who he was watching. It was what she said. Sophia was getting over him. It explained her earlier look. She saw him, but she was moving on.

  As the guests stood in preparation to exit the church behind the newly wedded couple, Everett gripped the wooden box, ducked out of the main door, and rounded the corner. He could just as easily hop back on a plane to Portland and she'd be none the wiser. Maybe she'd believe he was an apparition. Maybe she'd know he was a coward. But his pride would still be intact.

  His heart though, would not recover.

  She’s getting over me.

  "I hope you're not thinking about punking out on me.
"

  Halfway down the steps, Everett turned to find Julie standing behind him. Her tiny, diamond-clad fingers were still twined with Nico's under a confetti storm of rice and roaring cheers of congratulations.

  "Auguri!" The crowd chanted between claps. Best wishes to the couple.

  All at once his senses were overloaded. He was dizzy as his glances flitted back and forth between the growing swarm of people celebrating the new marriage and the serious deadpan Julie gave him. The thunder of a thousand claps made it impossible for him to concentrate on any one thing. His skin buzzed with anticipation, and the taste of bile rose in his throat. He was giving up on all this—his only chance to have all of this with Sophia.

  "She needs you," Julie said, simply. She and Nico were both looking at him as she planted an encouraging peck on his cheek, somehow jumpstarting his heart. "I don't know what's in the box, but whatever it is, it's not what she needs. It's just you. To her, you are enough."

  At her words, a flurry of emotions swept through his heart, and he could feel small pieces of it, some newly cracked and others he’d believed to be irreparably broken, falling back into place.

  He leaned in to embrace the couple. "Congratulations. Thank you," he whispered.

  Whether he admitted it to himself or not, he wanted what his grandparents enjoyed for years—endless love, somehow winning against the odds. Against every hurdle and obstacle. Even against a small lie somehow blooming into so much more than he could have imagined.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Nico Farfalla, " the DJ announced into the mic as they finished their first dance as a married couple. "Let's give them a round of applause before we get this party started."

  Cheers erupted while an upbeat song blasted out of the speakers. Bass throbbed throughout the room and galvanized everyone into getting out there and dancing. From his post just off the entrance to the casino floor of the hotel, Everett watched Julie make her way over to the DJ. She leaned in, shielding her mouth near his ear. This is it. She promised him fifteen minutes, and he promised she wouldn't regret giving them to him on her wedding day.