CHAPTER 1
Tiffany Wheeler rushed around the walk-in closet, yanking clothes off hangers and
stuffing them into her suitcase. One quick glance at the clock on the bedroom wall and
she sighed. She was running behind. If she was going to make it to the airport in time to
catch her flight to New York City, she had to be out the door in the next forty-five
minutes, and she hadn’t even showered yet.
Grabbing her terry-cloth bathrobe off the end of the bed, Tiffany headed for the
bathroom, turning the shower’s handle as she stepped inside. The cool water splashed
onto her back, and she winced, wishing she’d allowed the water temperature to heat up
first. But today, time was not on her side.
Tiffany reached for the soap, her thoughts turning to tomorrow and the wedding
of one of her closest friends, Georgiana Germaine. Tiffany had known Georgiana since
elementary school, though they’d had a rocky start. One day in the school cafeteria,
Tiffany noticed a bag of chips inside Georgiana’s A-Team lunchbox, and she snatched
it, thinking no one had seen the dirty deed. But two boys at the opposite end of the table
had, and when Georgiana accused them of thievery, they were quick to point fingers,
singling out the offender.
As Tiffany tried making a run for it, Georgiana sprinted in her direction, hands
fisted. She punched Tiffany square in the nose, breaking it. Blood sprayed all over
Tiffany’s pastel pink dress, and it wasn’t long before every eye in the room was on them.
From then on, many of her fellow classmates called her Squirt, and Georgiana became
her sworn enemy.
Years passed before Tiffany and Georgiana spoke again, when one day
Georgiana found Tiffany hiding under the bleachers, mourning the traumatic breakup
with her boyfriend. She’d indulged in a bit too much tequila, which had been supplied by
a friend, and was far from sober. Knowing Tiffany was in no condition to go home,
Georgiana decided to call Tiffany’s mother and pretend she needed help on a school
project. The plan worked, and for the next several hours Tiffany rested in Georgiana’s
bedroom, chugging water until she was sober enough to head home.
Ever since, the duo had been the best of friends.
Thinking back on it now, Tiffany laughed. Life could be crazy, but at times it had a
way of mending hearts—hers and Georgiana’s, at least. As happy as Tiffany was for
Georgiana’s upcoming nuptials, Tiffany’s own love life was in shambles. One week
earlier, while in the office at her law firm, a woman came in, bursting into tears the
moment they made eye contact. The woman’s name was Jana, and she’d come to
deliver a terrible truth. Tyler, the man Tiffany had been dating for over six months, was
married—to Jana.
Tiffany had spent the past several days grieving the breakup, her heart in pieces.
The man she thought was different than the rest, a man she hoped to one day marry,
had been fooling her all along, and she’d fallen for it.
Again.
It wasn’t an ideal time for her to be attending a wedding.
But tomorrow wasn’t about her.
It was about Georgiana.
And she was determined to push her feelings of discomfort to the side and put on
a happy face for her dear friend.
Returning to the present moment, Tiffany reached for the shampoo. Popping the
lid open, she squirted a dollop onto her palm, then rubbed her hands together to create
a thick lather. She worked it into her long, blond hair, and as the suds fell over her face,
she heard what sounded like a door closing. Through the muffled sound of the water,
she couldn’t be sure.
She rinsed the suds out of her eyes, moved the shower curtain to the side, and
peeked out, listening.
A breeze drifted by. She guessed it was from the window she’d left open in the
bedroom. It had been a windy day—perhaps the wind had blown something over.
Deciding it was nothing, Tiffany shrugged, dipping beneath the water for one last
rinse. She shut the water off and stepped out, bending down to reach for her bathrobe,
which had fallen on the floor. She wrapped it around herself and turned, panic flooding
her mind as she came to the realization she was not alone.
An intruder stood in the bathroom’s doorway, knife in hand.
With no way to escape, she stepped back. “What are you doing here, in my
house?”
There was no response.
Fearing the worst, she said, “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”
Her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, the knife lifting and then plunging
down—again, and again.
As Tiffany drew her last breaths, one last thought ran through her mind—if
Georgiana would have been in her position, what would she have done?
CHAPTER 2
Twenty-nine years after I first laid eyes on Giovanni Luciana on a sunny, clear college
day had brought us to this moment—our wedding day. When we first met, I was a
young, impressionable college student who’d just turned eighteen. And while we
became close friends during those years, when I learned he’d become engaged to
Valentina Violeta Romana, I was gutted, like the light within my soul had been snuffed
out.
And I realized something that day—I didn’t just like Giovanni, I loved him.
But our courtship would have to wait.
Many years later, after Giovanni married Valentina, his sister, Daniela, admitted
he didn’t love his wife, not in the way she deserved, and the feeling was mutual. The
marriage hadn’t been a match between two people in love. It had been an arrangement
made by their fathers, a way to bring two powerful families together. And though
Giovanni protested the marriage, in the end, he still went through with it.
I went on to marry Liam, a man I loved, though it had always felt like something
was missing between us. Never a believer in the notion of soul mates, or finding my
‘one true love,’ marrying Liam seemed right at the time, until it wasn’t.
Decades later, after Liam and I divorced, I found myself reminiscing one night
about my college years and how precious time was, how fleeting. Up to that point I
hadn’t lived my best life, not by a long shot. In that moment a familiar face came to
mind, and I wondered where Giovanni was now and if he ever thought of me.
As my curiosity grew, I located a book he'd given me all those years ago, Sense
and Sensibility. Inside, he’d inscribed a message, and below it, a phone number. I
figured the number had changed after all these years but decided to take a leap of faith,
a decision that would change our lives forever.
It turned out he was single, and I when I admitted the same, he invited me to join
him for dinner at his New York City restaurant, Osteria dei Mascalzoni, or “Tavern of the
Scoundrels.”
It was there our love story began.
Now, almost five years later, love felt a lot different in middle age than it had in
my younger years. The young, naïve Georgiana who hadn’t believed in soul mates was
far more pliant and open-minded. After all, I’d found mine.
I was sitting in front of the mirror, admiring my spaghetti-strap, floor-length, ivory-
colored bridal gown. With its thousands of hand-beaded pieces, it looked like something
straight out of a Gatsby novel. The bias-cut sheath design had been cut on a diagonal,
a stylistic technique causing the fabric to drape, creating a slinky silhouette. It was the
most gorgeous gown I’d ever worn, and I couldn’t wait for him to see it.
Down the hallway I heard brisk footsteps moving my direction, followed by, “Yoo-
hoo, pardon me. Mother of the bride coming through.”
She burst into the room, her curly, bob-style hair bouncing as she scampered my
way. She looked me up and down and lifted a finger, swishing it left to right, head
shaking. “For goodness’ sake, dear. Let’s get the move on. We’ve less than ten minutes
before it’s time to walk down the aisle. Your shoes aren’t on, your hair … well, is in
desperate need of a touch up, and your makeup needs a bit of attention too.”
I turned, glancing in the mirror, unsure of what all the fuss was about.
She clapped her hands together. “Come on. Hop to it!”
I reached out, taking her hand in mine. “Breathe, Mom. We’ll make it on time.
Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? All I ever do is worry. It’s a mother’s job.”
She waved me off and turned, shuffling back to the hallway and calling for
Tiffany, my childhood friend.
Hands on hips, my mother muttered a frustrated, “Where on earth is she? She
was supposed to be here ages ago to help you get ready. What kind of friend leaves
someone hanging on their wedding day?”
I tried to stifle a laugh and failed. “Leaves someone hanging?”
“It’s what all the cool kids say nowadays.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course. Your niece says it all the time.”
My niece was only twelve, which felt a little young for her to be fluent in modern
slang.
“When I see Tiffany, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind,” my mother huffed.
“Maybe she’s running late.”
I’d said the words, knowing it wasn’t like Tiffany to be late—ever.
And given I’d been so caught up in memories of the past, I hadn’t been paying
close enough attention to the time. If I had, I would have realized she was due to arrive
over an hour ago.
“I’ll try her cell phone,” I said.
“There’s no time. You’ve a mere six minutes before the ceremony begins. Time to
whip things into high gear.”
I sighed and slipped on my two-inch heels. Facing the mirror, I adjusted the white
and gold iridescent leaf and floral hair piece pinned to the side of my head. Then I
reached for my lipstick, a lovely neutral shade that added a tinge of color without
becoming a focal point.
Certain the final touches I’d added were enough, I looked at my mother for
approval. Based on her expression, I wasn’t sure I’d get it.
“What now?” I asked. “Today is supposed to be a calm, joyful day. You’re
stressing me out.”
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I just want everything to be perfect. You deserve it. You
deserve it all.”
“Everything is perfect.”
Aunt Laura poked her head into the room, smiling as she looked at me. “Are you
two about ready?”
“As ready as we’re ever going to be,” my mother replied.
I stood, and my aunt pressed a hand to her lips, saying, “You’re the most
beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Your father would have been so proud.”
At the mention of his name, tears formed up in my mother’s eyes. “Taken too
soon. I always thought he would be the one walking you to the altar. It surprised me
when you didn’t ask Harvey.”
I threw my arms around my mother. “I love Harvey. I couldn’t ask for a better
stepfather. But as soon as Giovanni proposed I knew it was you I wanted by my side
today.”
She leaned back, swishing a hand through the air. “As much as I cherish these
rare sentimental moments of yours, not another word, darling, or all three of us will end
up with mascara streaks down our cheeks.”
I nodded and looped my arms around hers.
She lifted a finger, declaring, “Now, let’s get you married!” ...
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2025 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
