Page 136 of Flawed

"You'll do—"

"There's the bride-to-be." My mom's voice rings through the air.

We spin. Mom pulls Pina in for a hug while my father tugs me into one. Then they change spots. We all finish hugging, and Zara returns.

"Ma choupinette!" Dad exclaims, grabbing both her hands and holding them out. He glances at her dress and then at me.

Oh no. He's going to comment on the length.

Pina interjects, "Doesn't Zara look amazing?"

"Of course," Mom says, then pushes my father out of the way before he can say anything. She embraces Zara and kisses her cheek. "You're growing up too fast."

"I'm almost fifteen," Zara comments.

"Exactly my point," Mom states.

Zara rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.

We make our way around the room for the next half hour, talking to many guests.

The DJ cuts the music and announces, "If everyone could be seated, it's time for dinner."

"That's my cue. Your table is that one," I tell Zara, pointing to her table in the center of the room. Pina decided only Massimo and I would eat at Tristano's and her table. The rest of the bridal party is scattered throughout the room.

She replies, "I'm running to the bathroom again. I need to stop drinking this."

I take the glass and smell it then sip it.

She groans. "Mom! There's nothing bad in it."

"Hey, you can't fault me for checking," I claim.

She shakes her head and steps toward the restrooms.

I take my seat at the head table, between Pina and Massimo. He leans in and asks, "Did you write your speech?"

"I don't need to write it. It's all in my head," I brag.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Hmm. Let's see whose is better," he challenges.

"Did you write yours down?" I question.

"Nope."

"Good luck, then," I offer as a server gives us our champagne flutes.

Massimo gets up and clinks his glass. The room eventually goes quiet, and he smiles at Pina, booming, "Pina, Pina, Pina."

"Massimo, Massimo, Massimo," she chirps back.

"Should we tell them all our secrets?" he asks.

She arches her eyebrows.

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