Page 111 of For Pleasure Or Worse

“And here I am, jealous of you,” Camilla said. My head tilted, mind spinning to process that. “You have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

I reeled back, almost speechless at the thought of Camilla envying anything about me. But based on the soft sincerity in her eyes, she was being completely honest. This was the most vulnerable she’d ever been.

“I’m kind of at a loss for words,” I murmured.

“I thought I was getting over it. Well,coming to termswith it over the last few months. When everything came out in Vegas, it put me right back in that headspace again. I was so spiteful, and judgmental, more angry than I knew what to do with because you are…doing what you do, and you still get to have the life of your dreams. You don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad, you’re engaged, you have a home and a business and a best friend who clearly already knew your secret and celebrated it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I wouldn’t change anything, but goddammit, there are no rewards for being the patron saint of Russo.”

“It’s not fair, you’re right,” I rushed out. “I get it, Cam, I really fucking do.”

“Then I realized it’s not Dad, and it's not you, it’s not the twins, and it’s not even Mom.” She sniffled, dabbing her finger softly at her lower lash line. “It’s me regretting something I neverhad. I might have never even wanted it, but I didn’t get to make that choice. It wasn’t right to leave you in the dark for the last few weeks, and I’m sorry.”

I understood everything. Camilla was the first born, the eldest daughter, the role model. She was right, she didn’t have a choice because she was born into the position. By the time my parents had me six years later, it was like all that expectation had been divvied out already. The pressure she had on her trickled down onto Mia and Isabella, but merely sprinkled onto me. I took it for granted, and for the same reasons I resented Camilla for being the most important person in my parents’ lives, she envied me and my freedom.

My teeth sank into my bottom lip. A fresh wave of emotion blurred my vision and before I second-guessed it I was wrapping my arms around Camilla’s thin frame and resting my chin on her shoulder. She met me in the middle, letting go of a deep, stuttering breath. “We’re more alike than you think,” I said.

Her hand rubbed a soothing circle between my shoulder blades. “I know. We’re two sides of the same coin. I would probably never take my clothes off for thousands of people, but I share a similar passion for other things.”

A curt laugh darted out of me. “I’m not asking you to be a fan, by the way. I know it’s a lot to accept, and I can’t even really ask you to keep it to yourself. I just don’t want to lose you over it.”

Camilla stepped back. She fixed the strap on my dress that had slipped down my shoulder and ran a finger sharply across my winged eyeliner to keep it intact. “You know that thing Mateo said in Vegas, how we’d keep a secret for our sister because we love her? Well I do love you, Talia. Even if I won’t be asking you how work has been on the holidays.”

“I can live with that.” I beamed. My throat was dry, and my mouth still felt weird around the words, but I made it a point to say, “I love you, too.”

Camilla’s lips twisted, eyes glossing over again, but she cleared her throat and looked away, finding our parents walking into the room to wave at. “We’re good, sis. Go have fun and enjoy your party.”

Mateo had already started a conversation with my parents across the dining room by the welcome sign, and Camilla wasn’t kidding, color had returned to my father’s entire body. Gaunt eyes plump and alert, structure had returned to the bones in his face that were so often swollen. He was sharper, yet somehow softer at the same time. Warmness in a usually cold gaze, awareness that made it seem like he was finally looking at me and not straight through me.

“Dad,” I greeted him and leaned in for a side kiss. “You look great.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mateo added.

“Thank you.” He stuck his hands in his chino pockets, staring at the ground. “Quit the booze. I’ve never felt better.”

Mateo’s eyes flared toward me, as shocked as anyone. “That’s huge,” he said. “That’s great, John. I’m stoked to hear that.”

“Being at a wedding isn’t easy for sobriety,” my mom chided, tugging me into her for a long hug before putting me at arm's length and giving me a once-over. “Love the dress, honey.”

“Not easy, but we’ll make sure you have whatever you need,” I promised. I wanted to see this through for my father. He deserved that support. This wouldn’t only be valuable to him, it would change the entire dynamic of our family. It would be like starting fresh, new. For the first time in my life my relationships with my siblings and parents had a chance to really matter. New beginnings. Opportunities. Things to look forward to. Hope was blossoming inside my chest like flowers sprouting in the spring. Everything changing from grayscale to technicolor. I was Dorothy landing in Oz.

The same way my mother looked at Mateo the first time she met him, with a curious awe and hand-over-heart admiration, was how she reacted to the Swans when they introduced themselves. I had to give it to those two, they were absolutely astounding on paper. Respectful, charming, well-adjusted, and the perfect amount of mischievous to keep Sistine laughing like a schoolgirl with a crush. Even Dad was impressed. Frankie stuck with Mateo while Ophelia and I traversed arm in arm, and I let her chew my ear off about details and timing, the hairdresser, the makeup artist, every last minute of the next day until I reminded her I had a day-of planner and she was off the metaphorical clock.

My sisters floated around the room making their own introductions, and my worry washed away like the ocean tide I could hear through the windows of the restaurant. I should have kept in mind that Italians would migrate to other Italians, the one common denominator enough to unite whole cities of people. It always turned out that through a friend of a friend, or a cousin in college, a business partner, a second marriage, we were all three degrees separated.

By the time dinner was served, the placeholders were gone, and the table was a glorious mess of intermingled family and friends all in the same room to celebrate the same thing. I didn’t expect the night to be so emotional. After so many years building a wall to protect myself from being let down over and over again, fearing that I’d never have the connection to my family that I craved, that closeness and camaraderie, the tears I’d shed for all the wrong reasons were making these tears I shed for the right ones fall in spades.

Everyone toasted Mateo and me, and even in my white dress, with my husband's gentle fingers drawing hearts into my skin, surrounded by the people who meant the most to us in theworld, I was overwhelmed with the feeling that the best days of my life were still yet to come.

chapter forty-four

Mateo

The choreographeddance was going to go as badly as you could imagine. After the rehearsal dinner I took my reluctant, mildly drunk groomsmen across the resort to an empty conference room to put something together. Echo was as uncoordinated as he was wide; grace eluded him entirely. Although Pike was a fighter pilot, he apparently couldn’t distinguish his right from his left, and Angelo’s go-to move was something he learned watchingJersey Shoreas a teenager. Staying on beat, even putting one foot in front of another in a sequence, was as difficult to solve as a Rubix’s Cube. Wink was the only one of them worth his weight, unsurprisingly. Sam Swan was a jack of all trades.

Ophelia hadn’t given us any rules to abide by, and after an hour sweating and frustratedly trying to come up with something original to perform with no luck, I decided to pull up an old classic on YouTube to mimic instead. One we’d all seen a dozen times. Then it started to click. For two more hours the five of us watched theWhite Chicksdance battle scene on repeat until we nailed it, flips and all. If that didn’t get the people going and satisfy the girls, nothing would.

It was after midnight when we were finally satisfied and exhausted. Echo went to grab a nightcap at the bar, which was code for finding someone to warm his bed for the night, and Pike and Wink left to rack out with their women. I, on the other hand, was stuck trailing my brother back to his hotel room for a sleepover while my wife spent the night alone in that big, beautiful, king-size bridal suite.

Fuck the wedding traditions.

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