Chương 4
Marcy’s professionalism failed for approximately one second.
Her lips parted.
Then the trained expression returned.
“All right.”
Bianca stared at her.
“That’s it?”
Marcy turned slightly.
“I’m sorry?”
“He says the ceremony is canceled, and you say all right?”
“I need to know what you want me to communicate to the guests.”
“Nothing.”
Bianca’s voice sharpened.
“You communicate nothing until my father gets here.”
Marcy looked between them.
Alessandro spoke first.
“The wedding is canceled.”
“Stop saying that.”
Bianca’s composure finally cracked.
She took two steps toward him.
“You cannot cancel it by yourself.”
“Yes, I can.”
“It is my wedding too.”
“Then you can hold it without me.”
The words were ugly in their simplicity.
Bianca went still.
Marcy stared hard at her tablet.
Rosalie moved closer to Livia.
The child was no longer crying.
That worried Rosalie more.
Livia had become watchful.
Children who spent enough time around tense adults learned when silence protected them better than questions.
Alessandro noticed it too.
He walked toward the door and held out his hand.
“Come on.”
Livia hesitated.
She looked at Bianca.
The bride stood beside the vanity in the white gown, one bare ring finger tucked beneath the opposite hand.
“Do I have to say goodbye?”
Alessandro’s expression changed again.
“No.”
Bianca inhaled sharply.
Livia took her father’s hand.
Marcy stepped aside.
Rosalie followed with the backpack.
They had reached the corridor when Bianca called after them.
“Alessandro.”
He stopped but did not turn.
Her voice was quieter now.
“I didn’t know about the hair.”
He turned then.
Bianca’s eyes moved to Livia and away.
“I knew she was attached to it.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“I didn’t know why.”
Livia looked down at the carpet.
Rosalie felt a pulse of anger so immediate that she had to press her tongue against the back of her teeth.
Alessandro’s face gave away almost nothing.
“You were at dinner when she told us.”
Bianca frowned.
“What?”
“November.”
He spoke slowly.
“At my mother’s house.”
Bianca shook her head.
“I don’t remember that.”
“She said her mother used to braid it.”
“That isn’t the same as telling me she would fall apart if someone trimmed it.”
“Trimmed.”
Bianca shut her eyes.
“I chose the wrong word.”
“You chose the wrong action.”
Marcy took another careful step backward.
A door farther along the corridor opened and immediately closed again.
Bianca looked at Livia.
For the first time since Alessandro entered, she seemed to search for something to say directly to the child.
“I didn’t think—”
“No.”
Alessandro’s interruption was immediate.
Bianca looked furious.
“I am trying to apologize.”
“Then do it when you know what you’re apologizing for.”
Her face hardened.
“You’re enjoying this.”
He stared at her.
“Enjoying what?”
“Being right.”
That landed differently.
Rosalie saw it.
Alessandro’s grip on Livia’s hand loosened slightly.
Bianca continued before he could answer.
“You’ve been waiting for a reason.”
He looked toward his daughter.
Livia was tracing one shoe along the pattern in the carpet.
“Not here.”
“You think canceling the wedding makes you brave?”
“Bianca.”
“You have been halfway out the door for three months.”
Rosalie looked at Alessandro.
So did Marcy.
Livia stopped moving her shoe.
Alessandro’s voice dropped.
“Enough.”
“No, because suddenly this is all about what I did.”
“It is about what you did.”
“It is also about you.”
Livia looked up.
“Daddy?”
Alessandro’s eyes closed briefly.
Bianca saw the damage and stopped.
Too late.
Livia pulled her hand from his.
“What does halfway out the door mean?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Her face changed.
“That means it’s bad.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Rosalie wanted to rescue him and resented that she wanted to.
“Your father and Bianca have grown-up things to talk about,” she said.
Livia looked at her suspiciously.
“That also means it’s bad.”
Marcy abruptly coughed into her fist to hide something that might have been a laugh.
Nobody acknowledged it.
Alessandro crouched beside Livia again.
“It means Bianca thinks I had doubts about getting married.”
“Did you?”
The corridor became very quiet.
He looked at her for a long moment.
“Yes.”
Bianca’s face went pale.
Livia studied him.
“Before today?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Livia.”
“How long?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
She stepped backward.
“You told me you were happy.”
“I was trying to be.”
“That’s lying.”
“Yes.”
The admission hit him harder than Bianca’s accusations had.
Livia’s eyes filled again.
She turned to Rosalie.
“Can we go?”
Rosalie looked at Alessandro.
He nodded.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
The answer was soft.
Alessandro froze.
Livia wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand.
“I want Rosalie.”
Bianca looked away.
Marcy found the carpet intensely interesting.
Rosalie held out her hand.
Livia took it.
Alessandro remained crouched as they walked toward the elevators.
He did not call after them.
He stood only when the elevator doors opened.
Livia stepped inside without looking back.
Rosalie entered beside her.
As the doors began to close, Alessandro and Livia finally looked at each other across the narrowing gap.
He lifted one hand.
She did not.
The doors met.
For several seconds, Livia stared at her reflection in the polished metal.
Then she touched the shortened hair near her ear.
“Rosalie?”
“Yes?”
“Was Daddy going to marry her even if he didn’t want to?”
Rosalie watched the floor numbers change.
She had spent ten years becoming excellent at knowing when silence was part of her job.
This was not one of those times.
“I think,” she said carefully, “your father sometimes stays with a decision too long because changing it feels like failing.”
Livia considered that.
“Is that why he kept my broken bicycle?”
Rosalie looked down at her.
“What?”
“The red one.”
Despite herself, Rosalie laughed.
Livia leaned against her arm.
The elevator continued upward.
After a moment, Livia whispered, “I don’t want him to be sad.”
Rosalie rested her cheek briefly against the top of the child’s uneven hair.
May you like
“Neither do I.”
Behind them, two floors below, Alessandro remained in the corridor with Bianca, the coordinator, and a wedding that no longer had a groom.
