Page 29 of Choosing Hope

A few days after our painful meal with my parents. Mum emailed us her wedding guest list. Her added missive noted that ‘Hello Magazine’ was negotiating to cover the event, and my heart sank.

While reviewing the extensive guest list, which was mostly full of unfamiliar individuals, I looked for the two people I was certain would be included.

Sure enough, hidden halfway down the third page were Alonso and Gina Moretti. The sight of their names told me it was beyond time to make my break.

Furious. I reached for my phone; it buzzed with Sophie’s designated ringtone.

“Have you seen your mother’s email?” She demanded in a tone that sounded dangerously close to excited.

Shit. Was she getting swept away with the concept of having this fairytale wedding?

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my word clipped, so that I didn’t give too much away.

“Spence, there’s fucking royalty on this list!”

I rolled my eyes, leaning back heavily in my chair.

“Yes,” I confirmed, unimpressed with my parent’s connections.

“Is this the type of wedding you want?” she asked.

Her question surprised me, and I sat forward.

“Umm, no, not necessarily,” I admitted.

I felt awkward admitting out loud just how appalling I found the idea. A fairytale wedding was every woman’s dream, wasn’t it? I didn’t want to deprive her of that if it’s what she really wanted.

“Carlo’s parents are on the list,” she said.

Her acceptance and understanding of Carlo reminded me in six words why she’d captured my heart so securely.

“If they go, Carlo won’t. Will he?”

“No, unlikely,” I confirmed.

“Spence. An occasion like this would be amazing. I’m sure the wedding planner, Victoria London-Hewish,” she said the name in a pompous sounding tone that raised a smile, “is extremely proficient with organizing these events, but I’d be shitting myself to have ‘Hello Magazine’ photographing my every move.”

A sudden rush of love for her consumed my brain.

“Christ, I love you,” I admitted, relaxing back in my chair. “Whatever happens, Miss Jones, never leave me. I’ll undoubtedly fuck-up repeatedly, but you’ll never find another man to love you more than I do.”

She laughed, and the sound made me feel epic.

“I have no knowledge about marriage licenses abroad, but how about we get married in Naples, at Nonna’s lemon grove?” shesuggested. “I love it there. Carlo might have some contacts through the Rome Hotel, who could help with the catering and stuff.”

As she spoke, my mind buzzed with visions of my bride standing under the bougainvillea-covered pergola. The dark magenta flower and bright blue sky contrasted perfectly against her blond hair and fair skin.

My nostrils filled with the scent of citrus, warming me, and reminding me of home.

“Nicky and I can try to organize the rest,” she prattled on in the background.

Her excited words dusted over me, soothing my soul. This woman was perfect for me.

“It won’t be fancy, but it will certainly be beautiful, and we can invite the guests we want to attend.”

Our day was perfect. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and saying my vows with my two favorite people in the world by my side gave me a sense of calm I’d not been familiar with until Sophie came into my life.

Even my parents seemed to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of the day—once Mum got over her tizzy about not having a grand party, she loved the setting, which gave us the most incredible photographs.