King of Stars (The Next Generation #2)

30. Stella

Chapter 30

Stella

B reathe in, breathe out. Don’t pass out! How would that look?! Slow your breathing. In and out. In and out. Take them slower. A little slower. Not as panicked, like you’re gasping for air! Okay, a little better. No, slower, Stella! Keep it together, or you’re not going to be able to walk down the aisle.

That’s it.

Slow and steady wins the race, like that book mom used to read said.

Think of Matteo…no, maybe not.

My pulse feels like it’s going to jump out of my skin.

No, think of him.

He’s waiting! And from what everyone says, not so patiently.

Okay, I don’t feel as weak, but my pulse and heart rate are still on the run. Just the thought of him is keeping me on my feet…

Not even the mental rhapsody I had going on inside of my head was helping to keep my feet solid on the floor. I wanted to keep tapping my heels, like they could hypnotize me into not being so anxious. It wasn’t that I was nervous about getting married.

I wanted to run down the aisle and marry him. I could feel a string in my heart being pulled, and it was leading me straight to him.

There was a certain protocol I needed to follow, though. A lot of his higher-ranking family members were attending this wedding. Come to sniff you out was what Juliette had told me. It was the first time they’d be meeting me, and I guess they would approve of me…or not?

No pressure or anything, right?

Carmen, Dario’s wife, had told me that the family loved an impassioned show. If we didn’t move them, they might not approve.

I blocked thoughts of the family out, though. Scarlett had reminded me that no matter what they thought, this was our wedding day, and it wasn’t a show. The truth in our love would move them, and if not, they were blinded by their own ambitions. She ordered me to forget them and take it all in.

Lifting the hem of my dress, I started with my heels.

Matteo had saved my heel that I’d left behind when I ran from him in the underground club. The day he’d gone back and set fire to the place, he saved what he could of my things, and he found the matching heel.

He’d sent the heels over that morning, on a fancy silver pillow, like I was Princess Cinderella or something, with a note:

La Mia Stella,

You ran from me in these shoes. Run back to me now.

Yours for as long as the stars have been burning in the sky, will burn, and even longer,

Teo

The heels would glitter like stars when touched by the fading light filtering in through the small windows of the dim church. And maybe when the golden sun hit me, I’d glitter too, with all the sequins and pearls on the all-lace dress. Not to mention all the candles. I wanted the Tuscan gown to have a much different feel from the one I’d wear in December.

Even though my Tuscan dress would catch the light and sparkle, it was more subdued. The lace was the star of the show on this one. It hugged my body but flared out in the back mermaid-style. I held a bouquet of forget-me-nots and roses. My hair was pulled back into a low bun, and the scalloped-edge train was longer than the gown, trimmed with lace that matched the dress.

The long sleeves came to my wrists, and I held my right hand out, the light touching the star engagement ring Matteo had given me, watching as it sparkled. He’d told me to switch it to that finger until after the vows. My hands were trembling.

It seemed like out of the blue, another hand, much larger than mine, took mine in his, steadying it. His was so hot compared to my cold one.

Brando. He seemed to materialize out of the darkness in his tux.

Scarlett was right behind him, a beautiful vision in the lightest blue satin dress. She’d told me she was my something blue.

My something old was the little burnt metal forget-me-not flowers that my mom had tucked into my bag the day she’d left me. By some miracle, the little metal petals and stem were still intact enough for me to be able to carry with me in my bouquet. It was turned into a pin and secured front and center. My new was a delicate bracelet Matteo had sent over with the shoes. It had small star and diamond charms around it. My borrowed was a pair of earrings Mia had worn to her wedding.

Even though Scarlett was standing close to Brando, I got the feeling she was letting him lead this time. He looked at me with those same intense eyes, but I could see tenderness lurking in their dark depths.

“You okay?” he said, his voice a bit rough.

I was momentarily speechless until I realized I was probably standing there with my mouth open. “Yes,” I whispered. “Just…excited, anxious, and I have to stop myself from running down the aisle.” That last part wasn’t all that articulate, but… Brando Fausti was talking to me.

Whoa.

Brando grinned at me, and when Uncle Tito stood next to me, offering me his arm, Brando said, “Welcome to the family, Stella. You are a daughter of our heart.” He repeated the words in Italian, kissing my hand gently, and then offered Scarlett his arm.

Scarlett took it and then blew me a kiss as they left us in the waiting area of the little stone church.

“ Whoa ,” I said out loud this time after he’d gone. “It wasn’t a hug, but it felt like one.”

Uncle Tito patted my hand. “You are welcomed and loved.”

Nodding, I held onto him even tighter. I hoped that when we started walking, I wasn’t going to pull him over. Especially after the music started to play and Nonno’s rich voice floated toward us in Italian. A woman’s voice sang with him, faint, but echoing his words in English. “If I Should Fall Behind.”

“Ready,” I breathed.

Uncle Tito nodded seriously. “I did not even have to ask.”

My foot was the first to move, and then Uncle Tito’s, and before long, we were at the closed wooden doors. They opened to a small church packed with people, who were all turning to get a look at me. Some of them gasped, and then they all stood. Shadows stretched along the stone walls and wooden floors. A slice of waning light filtered in through the small windows and the dim church. Candles were lit to add a bit of ambience and to breathe more romantic light into the space.

My eyes instinctively looked for the man waiting at the altar for me. He was the only reason I wasn’t running. The walk toward him felt intimate, and I knew that, for the rest of my life, what his eyes were whispering would echo in my soul for eternity.

You are mine.

You are mine for the rest of my life.

What’s between us is more than love, and it will never die.

Come to me, La Mia Stella.

Never forget these moments.

These steps.

The wait.

I’ll never forget them.

You are the blood inside my heart and inside my veins.

You are the air that I breathe.

You are the sustenance that keeps me alive.

I’d die to keep you.

I’d die to protect you.

I live for you and only you.

Always come to me.

Don’t ever run from me again.

Always, always, always fall into my arms, into our home, into our bed.

Always, always, always shine for me.

You are my wife.

You are my life.

Mine.

All those things his eyes were vowing to me, he’d spoken to me in the middle of the night, only me and the stone walls of our home to hear. But on sacred ground, in front of people we loved, people I didn’t even know, he was making those promises to me before I even reached him.

Promises that couldn’t die, because they had gotten tangled in our love and made a home there.

That connection between our eyes was moving between us, a pulling like I’d never known urging me to move faster, to reconnect with the missing piece of my life, who was standing just a few steps ahead. I couldn’t control what it did to me, how it moved me even when neither one of us was actually moving. I had to separate myself from the rush of it, though. Force myself not to run, but to soak up every second of this walk, because it would never happen again.

Not like this.

A collective gasp seemed to suck the air out of the room when I passed all the guests, then sighs seemed to flutter the flames of the candles.

My veil.

The Fausti insignia—a rosary with a lion in its open center, a sacred heart in its mane—was embroidered in the center of the sheer material. Around it were roses and forget-me-nots. Pnina said it was going to be a breath stealer when I mentioned the idea to her, and it was. No one knew about it, not even Scarlett, Magpie, or Mia, until they helped me set the veil in place.

Matteo Fausti was a Fausti, and his family’s future leader, and I wanted to represent him. Let his world know that I already carried him within my heart, and I’d always have his back, like he’d always have mine. I was so proud to be his, and I would be the woman it took to be next to him while he led. I’d keep him in the light, keep him protected and fed, while also feeding his soldiers. The roses and forget-me-nots were for me. In honor of the woman who had already become a second mom to me, and for my own mom, who I carried inside of my heart.

I’d never forget her.

I hadn’t expected it, but I should have known. Matteo’s eyes were glossy, like at any second, tears would fall. They fell from my eyes, and he gently patted them dry when we reached him, rubbing them against his lips. Uncle Tito kissed my cheeks, told me how beautiful I was and that he’d tuck this moment inside of his heart, in a safe place. Then he gave my hand to Matteo.

“You will take care of her,” Uncle Tito said, his voice stern.

“I will live for her,” Matteo said, touching his heart with our hands. “I will die for her. You have my word, uncle.”

Uncle Tito nodded at this, and I heard sniffles from behind us. Uncle Tito took his seat, and Matteo moved us toward the waiting priest.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said. Then he repeated the words in Italian. Then seemed to add something to them. He translated. “My eyes will never see another vision like this for as long as I live.”

I wanted to take his words and borrow them, except exchange woman for man. He was dressed in a tux like his father’s. Even if I had never spoken to this man before that moment, in that tux, I would have not fought a marriage with him. That was how gorgeous he was. I actually wished for a stronger adjective because they all seemed so lame in comparison to his looks.

“Ditto,” I breathed out. Weak response, but it was all I could manage.

He grinned at me as he took my hand and breathed me in, right over my pulse. Then we faced the priest as he spoke ancient vows for us to repeat. He’d say them in English, then Italian. I repeated both, hoping my Italian was good enough. Neither of us fumbled, even though tears ran down my cheeks. An intense pressure felt like it had erupted from my heart and soul, and it was doing a number on my emotions. Every vow spoken was in pure truth as our eyes connected like they never had before.

Our connection had been tame compared to what was happening in that moment.

It was wild and free, but a cord tied my heart to his, and his to mine, and it was a cord that could never be broken, no matter how hard life tried to rip us apart. Right as the priest was about to pronounce us as husband and wife, he cleared his throat and said something to Matteo in Italian.

Matteo gazed at me, and without a breath, said loud enough for everyone to hear, “You are the beginning and end for me, Stella Fausti. My body will only know and serve yours for the rest of my life. And as our life continues together, I will continue to make vows to you. I will continue to become the man who is good enough to be yours. You are mine. And I am yours. You are mine for the rest of my life, and I am yours even beyond that. What’s between us is more than love, and it will never die.

“You are the blood inside of my heart and inside of my veins. You are the air that I breathe. You are the sustenance that keeps me alive. I’d die to keep you. I’d die to protect you. I live for you and only you. Always come to me. Don’t ever run from me again. Always, always, always fall into my arms, into our home, and into our bed. Always, always, always shine for me. All that I am I give to you. All that is mine is yours. You are my wife. You are my life. Mine.” He hit his heart. “La mia stella.”

Then he repeated the vows in Italian.

How could a mere woman answer that? I couldn’t. So, I did what my heart ordered me to do. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to get my heart as close as possible to his, so it could tell his all the things my weak voice couldn’t.

“With that- ah ,” the Italian priest said, holding his Bible close to his heart. “I now pronounce you- ah man and wife- ah . Matteo, you may kiss- ah your bride- ah !” He repeated the words in Italian, and as soon as my husband’s lips came to mine, the entire room erupted into cheers, but I was locked inside of a moment that was sealing the most serious and sacred vows of my life, and I never wanted to leave it—because it felt like just the two of us floating in the vast sky.

Us against the world.

Together as one.

Always.