The Italian's proposal

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-three

Melody

A month later, Melody was walking straight to the limousine, driven by Clark, who, seeing her in the wedding dress, smiled happily.

“May I tell you something?” he said as he opened the door.

Devina and her sister, Chloe, followed behind picking up the tulle of the dress and veil. She felt like she was in a fairy tale, even though the reality of her heart was another, totally different.

She was madly in love with Timothy.

And the worst part was that he didn’t realize it, and if he did realize it, well, he was a magnificent actor.

“Of course, Clark,” she smiled openly at him. The man had been so kind to her all this time, she felt them as close as family.

“I don’t want to sound rude,” he said and had the delicacy to blush, which caused Melody an interesting thrill.

“Don’t make me cry. It’s no big deal.”

“You look beautiful. I think you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. I know Mr. Giannato must have told you this quite a few times, but I’m glad I went to Doyle’s coffee shop that day and met you.”

Melody felt her eyes water and listened as Devina approached.

“Don’t you dare start crying!” she shrieked swinging her hands around.

“I’m not going to cry,” she whined pouting.

“You’ve got a sea in those eyes, Melody! The make-up artist will kill you if we have to come back because you ruined your make-up!”

“I’m not going to cry.”

“You will. And you know it. You’ll cry because you’re going to marry the man you love.”

Melody watched her for a few seconds. She was right. She was going to marry Timothy, their marriage was a sham, an arrangement, something only a handful of people knew about.

He told her a few weeks ago, her life would change drastically, her way of looking at situations would be different. She was going to be his wife on paper, in front of the world and the press, his family and his friends. But he promised not to touch her again, respecting her heart and her fear of feeling anything else for him.

But what he didn’t realize was that she was already in love with him. With his gestures, his sweet way of treating her and taking care of her, how he forced her to eat, hiring a chef to make everything she asked for and even more.

He spent a fortune on bridal gowns, make-up, clothes, and shoes. Devina was her advisor on everything, as Melody was clueless on how to dress properly, how a Giannatto should be.

A perfect wife for him, at least for the time of their engagement.

She did not want him in her life by the time her child was born.

They came to an agreement that was simple for him and flattering for her. A house away from the city, a plot of land where she could grow vegetables and where she could have enough space for her veterinary clinic.

He promised to deliver on that.

Then she would have peace of mind, making sure she has a roof over her son’s head and a way of life.

She returned to college, virtually, a week after moving back in with Timothy. It was his idea, and she would be eternally grateful for the push and support, because in a year she would be able to graduate and get her degree to practice.

“I want to make you happy. I told you that before,” he said, hugging her when he shows her the houses he looked for her. “I don’t care if this is a sham, you are and always will be to me, a very beautiful casualty.”

“Don’t talk like I’m leaving tomorrow,” she has told him as she slipped out of his arms, somewhat annoyed at how her breasts reacted to his proximity.

“But you will leave. And I won’t get tired of telling you that you can count on me for whatever you need,” the response had come back to her with no doubt in his gaze.

Now she was on her way to her wedding, the only one she would ever have in her life, she was sure of that. With no one else would she feel as she did with the Italian.

Being with him, inside the apartment, seeing him every day, arriving with flowers, inviting her out to dinner, courting and letting herself be photographed with. She knew it was all part of the story, but all the same, she couldn’t help but make her heart beat with excitement.

She couldn’t help but think that maybe, maybe, he might have feelings for her, too. Though she couldn’t sit around waiting for him to start inquiring about his feelings.

“Honey, we’re going to be late. A bride is not late for her own wedding,” Devina’s sister Chloe, who was also pregnant but already full term, smiled at her and held her hand. “Don’t let your nerves betray you,

sweetheart.”

“I’m fine,” she wanted to believe it like hell itself, but she wasn’t sure she was fine.

“Mel?” Devina gave her a worried look, shooting a glance at her sister, her sister took Clark with her, to give her privacy.

“Don’t lecture me Devina,” in that month, she had apologized several times to the redhead, for the punch she hit her in the face.

“I just want to tell you something. After that, we’re going to your wedding, if you so choose.”

“I’m going to get married. It’s not a matter of if I choose to or not,” she didn’t understand where she was going with that.

“Look at me,” she asked without touching her, “look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love that stubborn, arrogant blond. Tell me you don’t love him, and I’ll leave you alone, I’ll never bring up the subject again.”

Melody closed her eyes trying not to let her emotions betray her. She hated being so transparent and that anyone could notice it in her eyes.

Everyone could tell she was in love.

With the wrong man.

“I love him as I know I will never love another man,” she stated without hesitation, “I love him, and I can never have him.”

“You can get anything you set your mind to,” she said hugging her. “But always think of that baby you carry there, he will always come first, and I know you have already come to an agreement that will

benefit you, but, still, think carefully about what you are going to do.”

“Timothy’s expecting me,” she told her shaking her shoulders at her. “I can’t be late,” she ended the conversation and Devina stepped aside for her to enter the limo. “I’m getting married.”

She stepped into the limo in agony, the dress was enough fabric to make ten more dresses. It was an exaggeration, but it was what she wanted. While it was a fake wedding, her dress didn’t have to be. She was getting married and wanted to choose the dress she dreamed of as a girl: one with a princess cut, fitted at the abdomen, and flaring out at the hips, with lots of tulle and silk.

The dress was formed with an off-white silk bodice, adorned with lace that went up to her neck and covered part of her long sleeves. It had beautiful floral embroidery on the sleeves and on the back. It fitted her not-so-narrow waist perfectly, as in the last month, she started to gain a couple of extra pounds, and she was already four months pregnant. Although it wasn’t noticeable unless you stared at her or she sat down, her hips had started to widen anyway. The skirt of the dress came down to her feet, skimming the ground wherever she walked. Timothy had given her a pearl necklace that belonged to his grandmother and that his mother had kept for many years after his grandmother passed away.

In the time they had spent walking down from the penthouse, Melody touched herself more than twenty times, afraid of losing the family jewels.

She had no intention of keeping them, after all, she knew that Timothy would marry again, to a woman he loved, to one who would keep his family name, and surely, he would want to give her those pearls.

Carlota Giannato had seemed a lovely woman in her eyes, sweet but upright. Timothy was a lot like her. She invited them to a dinner party the day after the argument and the disaster at her parents’ house. At first, she didn’t want to go, but Timothy insisted that it would only last a few hours and she just wanted to meet the woman her son was going to marry. Melody hated lying, it was a trait she

couldn’t and wouldn’t change in her personality. More clarity, more friendship. That’s what people always said, and she took it at face value.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Melody,” the lady said upon seeing her.

“The pleasure is mine, thank you for inviting me to your home,” the largest mansion she ever been to.

The bad thing was that she hadn’t been to one.

From movies, she didn’t make it through. She tried not to look shocked, but it was impossible.

“Would you like to see the whole house?” offered Timothy as they went inside and left the coats with the young housekeeper. “I wouldn’t mind showing you where I grew up.”

“No,” interjected Carlota, as she took Melody by the hand and led her into the living room. “We’ll have tea, then dinner with your father,” she spoke without thinking about the opinions of her guests. “After dinner you may give her the tour even through China as you like.”

“As you wish, mother,” he had replied.

She was surprised to see him smile and not contradict her.

It was new to her. The perfect child facet she didn’t understand, it was like a perfect dream, in a perfect family.

Carlota had platinum blonde hair, her eyes were the same color as her son’s, and she dressed impeccably and sophisticated. She noticed all the differences, in matters of home, luxurious properties, and elegance, the Giannato’s were the very crème de la crème of the upper class.

“Tell me how you met,” said Carlota, as Melody felt her cheeks flush.

She still didn’t feel comfortable with the situation between Timothy and her. Making love had been like going up to paradise, touching the clouds, and coming down all at once, realizing how in sync she had felt.

“We met at Doyle’s coffee shop,” Timothy interjected, taking the floor, and looking at her for reassurance. Which she subtly thanked him for with her eyes.

“Doyle? Doyle, your friend’s dad?” said Carlota, narrowing her eyes.

“The very same.”

“What is a beautiful young woman doing working in such small coffee shop?”

“I needed the job,” although she didn’t want to go into details, the woman had the same power as her son, and managed to get the semi-complete information out of her, just by staring at her. “My friend recommended me for the position, and Doyle was kind enough to let me work with him that week.”

“You were there for only a week?” surprised, Carlota leaned forward and folded her hands on her knees. “What happened what did you leave?”

“We met,” Timothy interjected again and this time, she felt a little uncomfortable, because of his mother’s questions. “Why don’t we have tea? Look, here she comes.”

The woman in an apron came in with a tray and placed it on the little glass-topped table in front of them.

Timothy was sitting next to her, though their bodies didn’t brush, she noticed every movement, every blink. She knew with closed eyes that he was accompanying her.

“Thank you, you may go. Tell my husband that his son and his fiancée have arrived. And please go set the table, we’ll have dinner as soon as we’re done.”

Definitely, that woman was a professional bossy, Melody said to herself, as she blushed.

The maid stepped back, and Melody almost waited for her to curtsy or some kind of sign that she was in a palace or something like that.

She was not of that social class. She never would be. No matter how fake her relationship with Timothy was, she would never belong to such a lifestyle. That’s something you were born with, and she, of course, wasn’t.

“Tell me about your family Melody, are they coming to the wedding? Timothy has told me you want a small wedding, nothing so extravagant,” she took a sip of the tea that was poured into a small clear cup. “I like weddings that are simple but classy. We’re not just any family, you noticed that.”

“I’m clear on that, yes,” Melody replied, squirming in her seat.

“So, are your parents coming?” repeated Carlota to the question.

She hadn’t even called her father that day. She didn’t know how to initiate a conversation with him, not after everything that happened the day before.

“My father will come,” succinct but simple, she answered after a few seconds of hesitation. “Excuse me, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about my family.”

“You don’t? Sorry Melody, I didn’t mean to touch a sensitive button.”

“You did,” she replied.

“Mom, is dinner ready yet?” Timothy got up and put his hands in his pockets. “I think we’d better eat now. Melody must rest and go to bed early.”

“Are you sick?” asked Carlota.

“No. I’m pregnant,” she replied quizzically, she thought Timothy already told her. All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

But Timothy’s face and the choked sound Carlota Giannatto made when he heard her, proved that he didn’t tell them.

Now she was riding in the limo, not knowing if Timothy’s mother would be at the wedding.

Her impulsive response had caused Timothy’s parents to remain in silence all night. She couldn’t imagine.

“You stay calm,” Devina told her as she got into the limo and listened to what was torturing her. “Carlota is not as difficult as she looks.”

“How many times have you seen her?” she asked as Clark got into the limo, once Chloe had gotten in.

She was grateful not to be alone, though, on such an important day. It pained her to have two virtual strangers by her side, and not her sister or her mother.

“Twice. Once at my wedding and the other a few weeks later.”

“And with that you imagine she’ s a good person? If you’d seen how she looked at me when I said it, the poor woman nearly knocked over the hot kettle of tea with him in it. If I’ d known Timothy didn’t tell her, I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“Sweetheart, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t control yourself,” Devina laughed, “you’ve got a slingshot in your mouth, you speak the truth. Whoever it hurts, it hurts.”

“Don’t feel bad, I’m sure she won’t leave her son alone on her wedding day. At least for the sake of keeping up appearances, she’ll be there at the chapel,” Chloe interjected consolingly. “It’s the thing

about marrying someone recognized in front of the press. To maintain the image, those people are capable of anything.”

“Your phrase: those people, offends me,” Devina said pretending to be offended. “My husband is part of those people, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but he’s not like that.”

“No. You’re right about that.”

It was good for her to hear the D’angelo sisters talk about Hamlet, as her heart began to calm down and her mind stopped riddling her with questions and doubts.

Was she really going to marry?

She didn’t believe it yet.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the chapel.

She looked everywhere, until she brought it into focus.

Her father was there.

He kept his word.

She let the air out slowly.

“It will be all right,” Devina told her, squeezing her hand, and arranging her veil. “You’re one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen,” she wiped away a tear running down her cheek and continued speaking, “doesn’t matter that your family isn’t here, look how happy your dad is. The smile can’t fit on his face. That should be enough for you. And I’ll tell you what, no matter how fake this is, no matter how much you think you can’t get it, focus and walk with your head held high.”

“Look at the amount of reporters,” she whispered. They were everywhere, they were starting to throw flashing pictures. She, who hated being the center of attention, was terrified of falling while walking, of doing something that would embarrass the Giannato’s name, for that would be the height of her disgrace.

She thought of her mother, at a time like this, she missed her and wanted to call her, but she won’t do it. Her invitation to the wedding was for her parents and her sister Allegra. Still, only Charles Redford was standing at the entrance to the chapel, waiting for her.

She should be used to it by now, a month had passed, and her mother still wouldn’t speak to her, thinking she ruined Allegra’s marriage.

Her brother-in-law begged for her forgiveness, but Allegra decided to initiate divorce proceedings.

Her father told her excitedly, happy to be able to get Equilay out of their life, once and for all. But he would always be a part of Anton’s life. Not to consider the fact that Allegra loved him, as she never loved anyone before.

And all that guilt was Melody’s, taking it on as her own.

The failure of Allegra’s marriage and the absence of her mother. She simply couldn’t help but feel bad about how her life turned out.

“Let’s get out Melody,” Devina told her.

The limo door was open, and Chloe was already outside, looking at her worriedly.

“I’m getting married,” she murmured uncertainly.

“You’re getting married,” Devina agreed. “Come on. Stop thinking about what’s going to happen in six months. Think about what you have now. That’s how you live life. Don’t calculate the future because

you can have too much happiness or too little. Either way, you won’t know how it’s coming. In the meantime, take advantage of what you can have and enjoy now, that’s what counts.”

And how right she was.

“I’m going to get married,” she repeated, but this time, completely sure. She would be happy as long as she was with him, she would take with her a wonderful memory and life experience for eternity. “Let’s go.”

And she stepped out of the limousine, grabbing all the attention of the reporters. Her father approached them, and the girls stepped back to give him space. They went ahead as her father took her left arm.

“My dear girl. I can’t believe you’re getting married already,” he murmured, as they walked slowly, the aisle adorned with lilacs at both ends. It was simply a beautiful sight.

“I’m getting married, dad. You don’t know how grateful I am that you came,” and her happiness showed in her eyes. Even if it was just to get Timothy’s inheritance, at her wedding she wanted her father to be there. That gave her a certain peace of mind. For him, for everyone, that was real, even a part of her felt that way.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I hope one day I can make it up to you for the ugly time I put you through. I want you to know that I will always be there for you, my girl,” he hugged her tight and she felt like a little girl again.

“I love you. For me it’s enough that you’re here. That’s worth more than any words you can say. There is nothing to forgive anymore, I have no room in my heart to hate my father,” she was about to burst into tears, so she pulled away and looked into his eyes, eyes the same color as hers, “really dad, thank you.”

“I love you. I hope you will be incredibly happy. That man loves you and I hope he makes you the happiest woman, you deserve to be.”

Those words caused Melody to pause at the chapel entrance. At that moment, the song Perfect by Ed Sheeran began to play throughout the place.

“Ready?”

She wasn’t, not at that moment, not in a million years.

“Melody...”

“I can’t do this,” she whispered before turning away, heading for the limo.