Page 2 of Enzo's Vow
He wore the blue linen shirt I’d sent him for his birthday last year; the initials embroidered on the front pocket, making it a favorite. Suddenly, I was a little girl again, perched on his knee as he told stories of his hometown village, his arm a safe harbor. A wave of longing washed over me, and I squeezed him in for a hug.
What a shame Mum was missing out. I told her months ago we’d be flying to Italy for the wedding. She’d objected to the idea.Objected, too light a word to describe the tantrum she’d thrown. She’d dived out of her seat, face red as she’d slashed her hands in vehement refusal. I’d never seen her so troubled. How sad she still resented my father for leaving us to care for his retired parents, refusing to face him, even for the happiest day of my life. But I wanted to honor my parents’ culture on my big day. What better way than to marry in my father’s town?
Matthew beamed at the idea of a destination wedding. He and his relatives boarded their flight for the trip here. He’d mentioned over the phone how he tried convincing my mum to join us one last time, insisting on buying her a plane ticket. But the stubborn woman refused and promised to throw us a lavish party on our return.
Papa chuckled in my ear. “What’s this for?” He patted my back.
Heart swelling in my chest, I embraced him tighter. “Just missed you.”
Stranger met my gaze over my father’s shoulder, his face a hard mask concealing his emotions. His friends addressed him, and he mouthed a short reply, his attention never leaving me. He wore a black suit, shirt, and tie, a complement to his tanned complexion. His chestnut brown hair, defined by loose curls styled into a trendy taper-fade, was meticulously groomed, each strand seemingly in its place. The hard set of his jaw and the slight tick beneath his eye suggested a man not to be crossed. He sat back from his table, directed at us rather than his friends. One leg was bent over his knee as he twirled the half-full wineglass at the table’s edge.
“I’ve missed you too,mia figlia.” He kissed my cheek. “Come now, you ladies enjoy your drinks.” My father’s words dragged my attention back to my two friends who traveled all this way for my big day.
I lowered back into my seat, the wicker of the chair creaking beneath me. Stabbing the orange peel garnish with my straw, a bittersweet aroma wafted up, making my mouth water. I raised the glass, the ice clinking against the side. The first fizzy sip tickled my nose, a jolt of syrupy sweetness, fighting against the bitter herbal notes. By the time I’d finished my drinks, alternating between the cocktail and water to quench the sweetness, my full bladder forced me out of my seat, and I excused myself to use the restroom.
Willow jumped to join me.
“Oh, thank God.” Her voice echoed from the cubicle next to mine. “A toilet with anactualtoilet seat.”
I smothered my chuckle. The lack of toilet seats in the many places we visited around Sicily baffled the girls. Talk about a culture shock. To be honest, I found it weird, too. What a shame such a beautiful town lacked simple bathroom finishes.I read somewhere the council didn’t replace the seats in public restrooms because they broke so often.
I finished washing my hands, adjusting the thin, removable straps of my beige dress, when Willow burst from the cubicle and pumped soap into her hands at the sink beside mine.
“So, tell me.” Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “Have you got cold feet yet?”
Here we go again. I stared up at the ceiling. “Willow, don’t start.”
She scrunched the paper towel into a ball and tossed it in a trash can beneath the basin. Straightening her posture, she grabbed my shoulders. “I get it. I’m pushy, but tell me, Gem. Are you excited? Like, butterflies excited?” Her features softened as she chewed on her lower lip, waiting for my answer.
Willow’s loyalty had always been fierce. I’d seen this since kindergarten, when she punched Jimmy Jeffries for tipping my lunchbox.
“Because I want you to be happy,over-the-moonhappy, you know?”
I bet she itched to get this off her chest. A muscle over my left brow tensed.
“And you don’t think Matthew makes me happy?”
She shrugged, her smile wobbly. “Well… he kind of pushed you into this rushed wedding. You did say you wanted to wait another year.”
No wonder she doubted my decision. “I know what I said, but Matthew’s right; wait for what? We want the same things in life. We want to settle down and start a family.” I shrugged, peering at the floor. “We want to start a future… together.”
Willow inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, the sound dismissive. “Remember when you were fourteen, and you’d returned from visiting your father? All you talked about for theentire summer was the cute Italian boy who worked at your dad’s florist.”
A boy I hadn’t thought about in years?I recoiled as if zapped with electric wire. “Willow, I was in high school. Are you suggesting I find my teenage crush?” And why on earth would I chase some fleeting feeling? I wanted solid foundation, a home built on shared values. Matthew and I made sense. Raised in the faith, a pastor’s son, he understood my promise to God to wait—a promise we both valued. Unlike my previous boyfriend, Dan, and his constant nagging, Matthew hadn’t pressured me at all during our year of dating. As forlove… I trusted it would bloom over time.
“No, not at all.” Willow waved a flippant hand. “All I’m saying is—you couldn’t shut up about him taking you bungee jumping, and how he gave you your first kiss at that panoramic lookout. You were smitten. And now…”
And now…I had a fiancé who took me out to church events and coffee dates. We weretooboring…for Willow, anyway. My last conversation with Matthew tweaked my lips into a small smile. He’d called before his flight, his voice laced with apology for the delay. Even with his parents’ misplaced passports, he offered to call the venue, reconfirm bookings… anything to ease my stress. If only Willow would stop worrying. If only she would see what I saw in Matthew. A great guy. “Willow, I love you and appreciate you looking out for me, but I know what I’m doing.”
She combed all ten fingers through her blonde tresses and released a shaky sigh. “Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry. Come here.”
Willow pulled me into a hug, then leaned back, her flash of teeth matching the spark in her eye. “Let’s go enjoy those cocktails.”
“I’ll meet you out there. I want to touch up my lipstick first.”I’m doing the right thing. I uncapped the lipstick and leaned closer to the mirror.I know I am.
Done smacking my lips together, I scanned my reflection one last time, running my hands down the rough cotton of the corset waist A-line dress. A gift from my bridesmaids. The hem stopped at my knees, and the modest neckline created the perfect outfit for a hot summer’s night in Messina.
I exited the bathroom. Clinks of cutlery against glassware echoed in the distance as I rounded the long corridor and smacked into a solid wall. No, not a wall. A strong hand snagged my elbow to help steady me on my feet. No longer across the room, but up close and personal enough to inhale his cologne; sweet and spicy, with undertones of earthy incense.
