Page 23 of Of Oaths and Secrets

I shrug. “It costs nothing to try.”

“It’s a waste of time,” my mother insists.

“Humor me.”

“Ms. Falcone, I've put a few dresses in the dressing room for you.”

As soon as I walk in, one catches my eye. The lace flowers are a pale violet-blue, reminding me of the stones of my engagement ring. I decide to try this one first.

I stand in front of the mirror, my breath catching as I take in the sight before me. The dress is nothing short of a dream—delicate and intricate, yet commanding in its quiet elegance. The soft V-neckline dips gracefully, not too deep, just enough to hint at femininity without overwhelming modesty. Floral lace cascades over the bodice, wrapping around my torso like a second skin, each petal meticulously stitched to create a symphony of texture and light.

The sleeves are long, their lace as delicate as spider silk, with flowers seemingly blooming along my arms, trailing down toward my wrists. There’s something almost ethereal about the way the lace melds with my skin, as if the dress itself is alive, each flower whispering secrets of love and promise.

The skirt flows effortlessly from the cinched waist, layers of tulle giving it a gentle volume that sways with every breath I take. Floral appliqués, matching those on the bodice, scatter across the skirt in a pattern that seems almost wild, yet perfectly placed, as if nature herself had a hand in its creation.

And there, at the waist, a simple, satin band draws the eye, a subtle contrast to the complexity above and below, grounding the entire look in understated grace.

I turn slightly, the dress moving with me, and I can’t help but smile. For the first time, standing here in this gown, I feel like a bride.

I rest my hand on my heart.This is the one.

“So?” I ask, finally facing the three women.

My mother scrunches her nose. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” Her eyes scan the dress, and she tugs lightly at the waistline. “It’s a bit tight here—it doesn’t quite flatter you.”

My heart sinks, and I look at Maria, who has her lips pursed with disapproval. She doesn’t need to say what she thinks—it’s clear on her face. As for Lucia? She’s still looking at her screen, typing furiously.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I mutter, my shoulders slumping as I turn back to the dressing room. “I’ll try something else.”

I am walking back to the dressing room when Maria’s phone rings.

“Rafaele?”

I freeze in my tracks, my heart skipping a beat at the mention of Rafaele’s name. Maria, who had been the picture of composure just moments ago, is now flustered, stuttering as she speaks into the phone. It’s a side of her I hadn’t expected to see, and it only adds to the magnitude of Rafaele’s influence over everyone in his life.

“Yes, I— No, of course,” Maria continues, her voice tinged with a nervous edge. Her expression shifts from disapproval to something more conflicted as she suddenly stands and extends the phone toward me. “Rafaele wants to speak with you,” she says, her tone careful, as if trying to gauge my reaction.

I hesitate, then take the phone, pressing it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Nora, I tried calling your cell, but it’s off.” Rafaele’s deep voice comes through the line, steady and firm.

“Oh, umm, yes, I don’t really use it that much.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then I hear him sigh. “Did Lucia give you the credit card?”

I can’t help but blush. It felt so strange this morning when Lucia handed it to me as soon as we settled in the car, telling me to buy whatever I wanted. “Yes, she did.”

“Perfect. Buy the dress you want.”

I look at myself in the mirror again. “Thank you,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, though I’m a little taken aback by his directness. “Okay, then I’ll?—”

“Why didn’t you call me? I told you I’d back you up.”

I glance back at my mother and Maria, who are now eyeing me eagerly. Feeling self-conscious, I turn my back to them and walk toward the dressing room. “I didn’t think it was important enough to bother you with,” I murmur. “This isn’t really your thing, is it?”

“Do you care about it?”

“I— Well, yes, but?—”

---