by Sofia Tate
When she finally turns to me, her face is pale, her light blue eyes bloodshot.
“Need water,” she whispers.
I nod and get out of her way so she can get to the sink.
She cleans herself off more, swishing some water around in her mouth.
“Sweetie, what happened?”
Lucy stands upright, bracing the edge of the sink tightly with her hands. “Ugh,” she moans. “It was probably the meat and dumplings I had with Tomas for lunch today. Maybe the meat was spoiled.”
A thought rushes over me like a rogue wave. “Lucy, could you be…”
“What?” she asks as she wipes her mouth.
I shake my head. “Never mind. Ready to go back?”
“I’ll meet you there. I want to fix my face.”
“Okay, honey.”
I head for the door when Lucy calls out, “Hey, Allegra.”
I look back at my best friend. “Yeah, honey?”
“Thanks. Sorry I snapped at you before.”
“When did you snap at me?” I give her a knowing wink and smile as I open the door. But the passing thought I had is now permanently etched in my mind.
* * *
After a sublime meal of a tomato-and-mozzarella salad, followed by lamb chops with fingerling potatoes and asparagus tips, pots of chocolate mousse are served with coffee and after-dinner drinks.
As I take a generous spoonful of dessert into my mouth, a hearty laugh rises above the voices of our assembled guests. When I look up, I see Lucy leaning over closer to Ian, who is sitting a seat away from her, the chair between them empty when Signora Pavoni left the room to answer a phone call. Ian is gesturing with his hands, and Lucy appears completely captivated by whatever he is telling her, smiling at him and touching him gently on the wrist.
Then I glance over at Tomas who’s seated on the other side of Lucy, and his eyes are shooting fire at his girlfriend’s back. With his entire body locked, I envision the dainty coffee cup in his right hand shattering into small pieces thanks to his tight grip.
Lucy doesn’t even notice when Tomas throws his linen napkin on the table, rises from his seat, and storms out the door.
I push back and rush out to follow him. Just as I turn toward the main dining room to search for Tomas, a hand on my elbow pulls me the other way.
Davison starts to lead me down the hallway, his steps swift and determined.
“Davison, wait! I just—”
“I know.”
“But Tomas—”
“I know.”
We stop in front of Elias’s office. He switches to his left hand to hold my elbow while he punches in the code to the keypad with his right hand.
Davison hauls me inside, locking the door behind us.
I turn to face him. “Why did you do that? I was going after Tomas. I don’t know what the hell Lucy was doing, but he was clearly upset.”
Davison shakes his head at me and laughs to himself. “Baby, I’ve watched you all night, and I love how much you always take care of others before you take care of yourself, like how you tended to Luciana when she got sick and how concerned you are about Tomas. But right now, you need to let it go and just be in the moment. Do you realize where you’re standing?”
I glance around the room, and it hits me. We’re in the office of Le Bistro, the room that holds so many memories for us. This is where I found out Davison would be serving as comanager to help Elias after he’d had a heart attack. Where Davison tended to me and let me rest on the leather couch after a customer harassed me. Where Davison kissed me when I wasn’t sure about us, telling me how much he wanted to be with me.
Davison takes me into his arms, and I look into his eyes. “This is us,” I whisper.
“It is. And the day after tomorrow, this is where you’ll finally become Mrs. Davison Berkeley.”
“Well, technically, our ceremony will be in the other room, not in this exact spot,” I remind him.
He purses his lips together in amusement, takes a deep breath, then takes my face in his hands and kisses me so sweetly. “I can’t wait to marry you, Venus.”
“Likewise, Harvard. Now give me one last kiss in this office while I’m still Allegra Orsini.”
He obliges without hesitation. Twice.
Chapter Seven
Allegra
The fragrant scent of the apricot roses from my wedding bouquet permeates the interior of the Maybach. The florist who handled the arrangements for today tried to steer me toward lilies, but I was insistent on holding my favorite flowers when I walked down the aisle to Davison standing at the altar. I hold them up to my nose to inhale them again.
“They are beautiful, as are you, cara,” Papa says, sitting to my right, holding my hand tightly. “I just wish Mamma could be here to see you in her wedding dress. Bellissima.”
My eyes moisten at his words. I wipe them carefully with the ivory linen handkerchief that Davison’s mother had slipped into my hands before she left the apartment.
“She is here, Papa,” I assured him. “She always will be.”
It had been such a chaotic morning, filled with much laughter and singing, thanks to Lucy belting out “Chapel of Love” on a damn loop. Both she and Mona helped me with my dress, hair, and makeup. Davison stayed over at his mother’s while Lucy took me out for sushi and beer for my last night as a single woman, staying over and sleeping in our guest room. Needless to say, this pleased Davison immensely due to the absence of a shirtless man slicked in oil shaking his junk in my face as he had worried would happen. We also decided to have the ceremony in the evening, with less chance of the paparazzi spotting us. As jaded as New Yorkers are, they tend to notice a woman in a wedding dress at lunchtime on Broadway and Sixty-fourth Street.
Lucy laughs from her seat up front with Charles.
“What’s so funny?”
“Ian says Davison is pacing the floor like a robot vacuum out of control and is all anxious. He keeps saying to Ian, ‘I just need to see her.’”
Something uncomfortable stirs inside me. I lean forward so I don’t have to shout as loudly back to her. “Why is Ian texting you?”
“He’s the best man, Alli. I’m the maid of honor. Enough said.”
I bite down on my lip to keep me from yelling back, “No, that’s actually not enough said!”
Why the hell…
No. Do not go there. This is not the time.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath.
Davison is waiting for me. He’s pacing the floor for me. He needs to see me. He is about to marry me.
Just as I open my eyes, the car comes to a stop in front of Le Bistro. The curtains in the front windows are drawn, as is the one on the door. Charles holds the door open for Papa, who in turn holds out his hand for me. Lucy sticks her head into the back to take the bouquet from me so I can make a graceful exit from the car.
I gather the hem of my dress and carefully slide along the seat, angling my legs out first so I can place my feet on the pavement as Papa’s strong hand lifts me up. I duck my head so I don’t mess up my hair from hitting my head on the car roof, because nothing is more attractive on a bride than a huge goose egg of a bruise protruding through her chignon.
Charles, Papa, and Lucy all huddle around me to shield me from any curious onlookers, moving me toward the door where Elias is standing, holding it open for us.
“He’s waiting for you, Allegra. Whenever you’re ready,” Elias whispers, giving me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before heading to the back room with Charles.
Lucy pulls out my makeup bag, which I shoved in her tote before we left. She hands me the compact as I check myself one last time.
“You look beautiful, sweetie,” she says, giving me a final sweep with her eyes. “Now let’s do this. Money Boy is waiting.”
Thank God for Lucy. I allow myself to laugh to break the nerves and anxiety pooling in my stomach like a bubbling cauldron.
Lucy stashes her bag behind the bar and gr
abs her bouquet, slowly making her way to the back.
I pick up my bouquet and take a deep breath, looking at Papa. “Andiamo, Papa.”
He smiles back at me. “Andiamo, cara.”
With my hand firmly in his, my father leads me to the back of Le Bistro, down the narrow hallway. Lucy stands in the doorway of the private room where Davison, the guests, the string quartet, and the judge are all waiting for us. She glances over at me, gives me a quick wink, then nods to the open door. I hear the opening notes of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D” begin to waft softly from the room.
Lucy disappears into the room as my hands shake nervously. I take more deep breaths as I wait for it…
And then the quartet begins to play “Bridal Chorus” from Wagner’s Lohengrin.
My cue.
Papa and I step to the entryway. I know everyone is looking at me, and I spot the flowers and candles placed around the room, but the only person I focus on is Davison, standing at the end of the aisle, wearing the tuxedo he bought specifically for today, classic black-tie, with an apricot rose pinned to his right lapel.
All he sees is me. Me in my mother’s wedding gown—a long-sleeved lace dress with a bateau neckline and full A-line tulle skirt, with a silver vine headband accentuating my hair. He gives me a brief smile, but then his jaw clenches, and I know instantly it’s because he’s as overwhelmed with emotion as I am.
I don’t even feel my feet on the aisle runner as Papa walks me down to Davison. I finally reach him, and he waits patiently as Papa gives me one last kiss, taking my hand from his and giving it to Davison’s, ready and open for me. He shakes Davison’s other hand and steps back to take his seat next to Mona.
I hand my bouquet to Lucy, holding on to the handkerchief. When I look into Davison’s eyes, I see the moisture gathered in them. I gently dab his eyes, watching as he takes my hand to hold it to his lips to kiss it.
The judge clears his throat. “Not yet, young man.” Davison and I allow ourselves a laugh for a touch of levity, as do our family and friends.
When we were planning the wedding, Davison and I decided to keep the ceremony simple. We didn’t want something over-the-top. I was worried about Papa being upset that we didn’t want a big church wedding so we could keep the wedding low-key and private, but he completely understood our concerns and said to do whatever worked best for us. After everything we’ve been through, we just wanted to be married. As we tightly hold hands and recite our vows to each other, my voice soft yet strong, Davison’s practically booming, echoing throughout the small space, we officially commit ourselves to each other. He kisses my ring finger after he places my platinum diamond eternity band on it. Neither of us waits another second after the words “husband and wife” cross the judge’s lips, when Davison cups my face and kisses me long and deep to whoops and applause. The quartet starts to play Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” as Davison and I kiss and kiss.
Davison’s lips move to my ear. “Forever, Allegra.”
“Forever, Davison,” I whisper to him in return. Then we turn around to accept the hugs and congratulations from our friends and family.
* * *
In an adjoining room, champagne and hors d’oeuvres are passed around as Davison and I stand together, not leaving each other’s sides for anything. He keeps rubbing my hand with his thumb, just like he did the first night we met.
I lean in closer to whisper into his ear. “So, Mr. Berkeley, could you give your wife one tiny hint where we’ll be spending our wedding night?”
His warm breath caresses my neck when he whispers in return, “Patience, Mrs. Berkeley.”
I groan in frustration.
“I look forward to hearing you do that repeatedly later tonight,” he murmurs in reply.
The promise of that, the mere thought of it, causes me to turn wet with anticipation, and as much as I want to drag him into the office, lock the door behind us, and tear his new tuxedo off his hard body, I stay still and reply softly, “Bet on it, baby.”
The gentle tinkling of cutlery against glass brings the ongoing conversations to a stop. My father is holding a spoon against his champagne flute. “If I could have everyone’s attention before we sit down for dinner.”
The room falls to a hush as Papa clears his voice. “For a very long time, it’s just been my Allegra and me. I always wanted more for my daughter, and tonight, she has found her happiness. I know that Allegra and Davison are meant for each other because no matter what they’ve been through, their love was made even stronger as they faced those obstacles together. There is nothing a parent wants more for their child than to be happy, and Davison, my son-in-law, you have done that for my precious cara. Grazie and welcome to the family! To Davison and Allegra!”
“To Davison and Allegra!” everyone cheers in unison, raising their glasses to us.
Davison and I clink glasses together and we entwine our hands to sip from each other’s glasses. “Cheesy!” Lucy shouts.
I untwist my hand, leaning into my husband. “Only a few more hours, Harvard.”
“This is going to be the quickest meal I’ve ever eaten in my life,” he promises.
Elias claps his hands together for attention. “Dinner is served, everyone.”
Our guests begin to file out of the room into the hallway to the main dining room when Tomas captures me by the elbow.
“Allegra, I’m so sorry to bother you on such a happy evening.”
I can see concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” I turn to Davison. “Could you—”
Davison gives me a soft kiss on the lips. “No problem, Mrs. Berkeley. I need to check on something with my mother.”
I smile widely, watching him walk away to Mona. I turn back to give Tomas my attention. “What is it?”
He exhales worriedly. “It is Lucy,” he begins in his smooth Czech accent. “She is very friendly with this Ian. You are her best friend. Has she said anything to you?”
Oh God. I cannot get in the middle of this, at least not tonight, one hour after I just got married.
“To be perfectly honest, Tomas, she thinks you’re pulling away from her. Have you spoken to her yet?”
He frowns. “No.”
I sigh in exasperation. “Look, Tomas, the sooner you do, the sooner she’ll stop being so friendly with Ian. I guarantee it. I think she’s just looking for attention. The two of you just need to talk things out.”
He pauses, then nods his head. “All right. I vill talk to her.”
As he walks out the door, he looks back one last time into the room, his eyes narrowing, his face growing red in anger.
I shift my head to where he was looking. Lucy is standing with Ian, a huge grin on her face as they laugh and clink glasses.
Fuck. Lucy, what the hell are you doing?
A tug on my hand brings me back around. Davison pulls me into the hallway, pushing me up against the wall and taking my face in his hands. His hot mouth over mine, he kisses me with pure heat and passion. A low grunt escapes his throat.
“No more worrying about anyone else tonight,” he pants when he releases me. “I know you love your friends, but for the rest of the night, you’re not leaving my side. We’re going to have our dinner, cut our cake, Ian will give his best man speech, you’ll throw your bouquet to Lucy, then we’re outta here. Deal?”
With Davison’s heated eyes boring into mine, there is no way I’m going to deny him. “Deal, Harvard. Now let’s go eat, because we’re going to need our sustenance for tonight.”
“Truer words have never been spoken, Venus.”
Chapter Eight
Davison
I hold my wife’s hand in mine as Charles guides the Maybach through Saturday-night traffic. My tie is wrapped around Allegra’s eyes so she can’t see where we’re going, even though I’m fairly certain she knows our final destination. Nothing gets past Allegra Orsini Berkeley.
“We haven’t stopped yet for one traffic light,” she remarks. “We’re going home, down West
Street, aren’t we?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I reply cryptically. “Maybe Charles is just hitting all the lights perfectly.”
“Maybe,” she mutters under her breath.
We turn right onto Battery Place from West Street, then onto Little West Street, where our apartment building is.
Allegra brings her hand up to her mouth, kissing my palm. “Thank you for bringing me home. Home is much better than any five-star hotel.”
I soften at my wife’s kindness, but I’m still intent on playing it out. “We’re not home, Allegra,” I insist.
I know without a doubt that she’s rolling her eyes at me behind my tie. “Oh please, give me a little credit, Harvard.”
The Maybach comes to a stop. I open my door and go around to Allegra’s side, reaching in to help her out of the car, then picking her up in my arms.
Charles shuts the door once I’ve got a hold on Allegra. “Congratulations, sir. I’m so happy for you both.”
“Thank you, Charles. And take tomorrow off, because God knows we won’t be going anywhere.”
He gives me a quick nod. “Thank you, sir. Good night, then.”
“Good night, Charles, and thank you for everything,” Allegra replies, extending one hand to him while holding on to me with the other.
Charles takes her hand and gallantly kisses it. “My pleasure, Mrs. Berkeley. Now, off with you two.”
“You heard him, husband. Move it,” my wife orders me as Charles laughs.
“Yes, wife,” I obey her, giving Charles a quick nod, then making my way to the building entrance to our private elevator.
She smiles, and I know she senses we’re going up in our elevator. “You can put me down now, Davison.”
“Not a chance in hell. I’m carrying you over the threshold as per tradition.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
The doors open, and I step through, my eyes widening at the view in front of me.
Allegra will love this.
“Not that I’m complaining, Mr. Berkeley, but since I know we’re inside now, is there a reason you’re not putting me down? Is something wrong?”