Milena brings pizza from Lucali’s, which is without question the best in New York. And Tempest grins as she reveals the three bottles of insanely old wine she swiped from my brother’s personal cellar.
I show Tempest the wedding dress I finally settled on the other day. Part of me is still a little sad about not being able to wear my mother’s dress, destroyed as it was. But everyone loves the one I picked out. It’s fine.
We’re just sitting down to eat at the kitchen island when there’s a knock at the door. I slug back some wine before I walk over and open it. Matteo, one of my dad’s men, greets me with a stiff nod, his bulky frame filling the doorway.
“Evening, Ms. Sartorre,” he grunts. “You’ve got a visitor.”
My brows fly up when he steps aside and I lay eyes on Callie, standing behind him with a huge garment bag in her arms.
“Hi,” Kratos’ sister smiles at me.
“Come in!” I nod to Matteo that it’s okay, and he steps aside to let Callie into the apartment. She gives a little wave to the other girls when she spots them, and I wince. “I didn’t have a bachelorette party, so…” My brows knit. “Shit, I’m an asshole. I should have invited you. Sorry.”
“Please,” she waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just here playing delivery girl.” She bites back a smile as she thrusts out her arms, presenting me with the garment bag. “Compliments of my big dumb brother.”
I smile curiously as I take the bag. “Can I look?”
She winks. “I’d recommend it.”
Over in the living room area, I drape the bag across the couch and unzip it. It takes me a second, but when I realize what I’m looking at, my breath catches. My eyes go wide as my hand flies to my mouth.
Impossible…
My head whips around to Callie. “How?” I whisper.
A week ago, when I saw this dress for the first time, it was all but destroyed, hanging in a water-damaged wardrobe at Vito’s office, covered in mold and grime.
Now, my mother’s wedding dress looks stunning.
It’s not dated at all. No poofy 90s sleeves, no bedazzling anywhere. It’s pure sophisticated elegance and beauty.
Silky and cream-colored, with thin, delicate straps over the shoulders, an open back that plunges to just above the base of the spine, and a sweetheart neckline. It falls in clean, silky lines down from the hips, reminding me of a 1920s jazz singer’s dress, and an almost crepe-paper looking waterfall of silk lilies falls down the back of one shoulder.
“Holy shit, that’s gorgeous,” Milena breathes from over my shoulder. “What designer is that?”
“My dad,” I whisper quietly. A small smile curls my lips as I look up at my friends. “I mean Dante’s and my birth dad. He was a renowned tailor. Mostly menswear, but he made this for our mom for their wedding.”
Naomi’s hands clutch over her heart. “Oh my God, I want a guy like that.”
I turn back to the gown, shaking my head. “Except…” I turn to look at Callie. “How?”
She grins. “Kratos. He got a hold of it from Vito and had some famous dress person…” Her brows furrow. “Veronica Beau-something?”
Milena’s jaw drops. “Véronique Beaumont?!”
Callie points a finger at her. “That’s the one.”
“She’s based in Paris.”
“Yeah,” Callie shrugs. “I guess he flew her out here the other day. Anyway, she fixed it up.”
I blink in utter shock, turning to stare at my mother’s gown.
“Okay, you gotta try that on, asap,” Naomi blurts. “And make sure it fits. Because you’re totally wearing that tomorrow.”
Callie clears her throat. “Yeah, it, uh…” She grins. “It’s gonna fit.”
Somehow, I don’t doubt it. Because something tells me that a man who flew a world-famous dress designer to New York from Paris in order to repair my mother’s gown didn’t exactly wing it on my sizes.
A smile creeps over my lips as a blush blooms on my cheeks.
He didn’t have to do this. I never even mentioned the dress fiasco to him. I don’t know if Kratos did this as a nice gesture, or if he truly knows how much it means to me. Either way, it’s…unexpected.
And something tells me the goofy grin on my face right now is still going to be there tomorrow when I walk down the aisle toward him.
“Thank you,” I whisper, pulling Callie into a hug. “Really. This…” I pull back, biting my lip. “This means a lot. Like, way more than he knows.”
“Pretty sure he knows,” she says quietly.
I grin. “Hey—you wanna stay?”
“I mean…I don’t want to crash—”
“No crash! You and I haven’t really had much time to get to know each other,” I babble awkwardly. “And, I mean, we’re going to be sisters…” I exhale. “And I don’t really have a lot of friends.”
Callie grins. “Same. I’ve got like five girlfriends, and I’m basically related by marriage to most of them.” She bites her lip as she takes my hand and squeezes. “I’d actually love if we could be friends, too.”
“Do you like wine and Lucali’s?”
