I was in Brazil, surrounded by current and former fashion models, but there was only one person I couldn’t take my eyes off of.
Alessandra stood at the altar, resplendent in a pale orange dress that made her glow despite the overcast skies. Wisps of hair framed her face, and a delicate glint of gold gleamed around her neck.
If I were a bride, I would never let her in my wedding party because she outshone everyone around her. Every time, a million times over.
Orange instead of white. Rio instead of DC. Bridesmaid instead of bride.
It wasn’t our wedding, but seeing her up there, looking so damn beautiful I couldn’t believe she was real…it was an excruciating reminder of what I’d had.
And what I’d lost.
“I promise to be your best friend, your confidante, and your partner in all things big and small. You will never face the world alone because I’ll be there for you, always and forever.”
I’d meant my vows when I’d said them. I still did. But intentions couldn’t replace actions, and somewhere along the way, I’d mistaken the former for the latter.
Loving someone wasn’t enough if I didn’t show it. Appreciating them wasn’t enough if I didn’t express it.
I’d been so used to Alessandra’s unquestioning support that I hadn’t realized what a toll being the emotional anchor of our relationship had taken on her. She was strong, but even the strongest needed someone to lean on. I’d promised that someone would be me, and I’d broken that promise more times than I could count.
A fist crushed my heart to pulp.
Alessandra stared straight ahead as her mother walked down the aisle and the real ceremony commenced. I could tell by the tightness of her expression and her stranglehold on the flowers that she was holding back tears.
I didn’t know every part of her anymore, but the parts I did know, I knew intimately. Her tears weren’t for her mother; they were for us.
The fist squeezed harder. Even if she hated me with the fire of a thousand suns, that wouldn’t compare to how much I hated myself in that moment.
A crystal droplet snaked down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but our gazes collided when she looked up again. Her eyes shone with pain, and if I hadn’t been sitting, the impact would’ve knocked me flat on my ass.
I’d spent my life building an empire, but in that moment, I would’ve happily dismantled the entire fucking thing if it meant making her smile instead of cry.
Past and present blurred into one as we stared at each other, caught in the web of a thousand memories and regrets. The buzz had returned to my ears, drowning out the rest of the ceremony. It wasn’t until the other guests stood and filed into the reception hall that I realized the actual wedding was over.
Alessandra’s eyes lingered on mine for a final beat before she glanced away. It was a small movement, but it felt, irrationally, like I was losing her all over again.
I swallowed past the jagged shards in my throat.
Luckily, the wedding was small, so it was easy to find her in the crowd after she finished her bridesmaid duties. I made it halfway to her before Marcelo stopped me.
“Hey. Can we talk?”
Wariness crept through my chest. He’d been friendly enough in Buzios despite the divorce, but he seemed uncharacteristically guarded as he led me to the quietest corner of the room.
“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” Marcelo cut straight to the chase. “Not today.”
My eyebrows winged up. “What, exactly, do you think I’m planning to do?”
“I don’t know, but I know it has to do with Alessandra.” He nodded at his sister, who was talking to a model I vaguely recognized from the billboards in Times Square. “It’s not the time, Dom. You know how much our mother stresses her out. She doesn’t need you adding to that.”
“I just want to talk to her. I’m not going to hurt her.”
“You mean, more than you already have?”
I flinched. That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, considering it was the truth, but that was precisely why his words stung. I had no defense.
Marcelo sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I like you. You were a good brother-in-law, and you’ve done a lot for me over the years.
But Ále is my sister. I’ll always choose her over anyone else.”
I suppressed another flinch at the word were. I’d never thought there’d be a day when a simple past tense would sting, but the past two months had been eye-opening in more ways than one.
“I should’ve kept my distance in Buzios. I was too…” Marcelo shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know. We were brothers for ten years, and it was hard to switch that off. I want you both to be happy, and I thought if you worked out your issues, everyone would win.”
“That’s still possible.” My hand flexed in lieu of reaching for my lighter. It was the only thing I had left from Alessandra that I could hold, and the compulsion to check that it was in my pocket every other minute was growing untenable.
“No,” Marcelo said softly. “I saw her face during the ceremony when she looked at you. You broke her heart, Dominic. It would take a hell of a lot more than a trip to Brazil to fix that.”
Marcelo’s words echoed in my head throughout the reception.
He was right. Taking time off work and coming to Brazil was a drop in the ocean of what I needed to fix things with Alessandra, but it was hard to make progress when she kept running from the shore.
After Marcelo left to take care of something with the caterers, I caught up with Alessandra near the bar, where she watched her mother and new stepfather dance with equal parts exhaustion and amusement.
“Fourth time’s the charm, right?” I came up beside her, my senses coming alive with the scent of lilies and rain.
“God, I hope so. I don’t think I can sit through another one of my mother’s weddings without shaking her.” Alessandra stared at the creamy surface of her passion fruit sour. “I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier.
Thank you again for flying us here. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
We lapsed into silence. I typically avoided parties unless they were useful for networking. Too many people, too much noise, too few inhibitions. They were overstimulation hell, but they were always more
tolerable when Alessandra was next to me. She was the only reason I’d soldiered through as many society events as I had over the years.
“I should—”
“Do you want to—”
We spoke again at the same time. I gestured for her to go first. “I should check on the food,” Alessandra said. “The cake is, um, delicate.”
“Your brother is doing that now.”
“Then I should check with the DJ on the setlist. It’s tough to balance a mix of Brazilian and American music. I don’t want anyone to feel—”
“Ále,” I said in a low voice. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. You don’t have to make up excuses to avoid me.”
She’d always had a tough time with her mother, who had paid more attention to her revolving door of boyfriends and husbands than she had her children. Fabiana should have been the one taking care of Alessandra, but whenever they were together, Alessandra slid right back into her role of caretaker. Even now, I could see her mentally calculating how long it would take before she had to cut Fabiana off from alcohol so she didn’t embarrass herself at her own wedding.
She had enough to worry about without worrying about me. Alessandra fiddled with her glass without looking at me.
I paused, a tiny kernel of hope kindling in my stomach. “Do you want me to leave?”
An eternity passed before she gave a tiny shake of her head.
I wasn’t naive enough to think she wanted me here because she was ready for reconciliation. Besides Marcelo, I was the only person in attendance who understood her wariness when it came to her mother and who was here for her, not Fabiana.
It didn’t matter. She could ask me to stay and mop the fucking floor and I would do it.
“Come on.” I held out my hand. “The reception’s over soon. You can’t leave without at least one dance.”
To my surprise, Alessandra didn’t argue. She set her glass on the bar and slid her palm into mine.
I guided her to the dance floor, where I rested my free hand on her hip as we swayed to the music. My pulse thrummed with nerves.
Don’t fuck this up.
“Do you remember what happened during our reception?” I murmured.
“Someone hacked the DJ’s booth…”
“And started playing nineties rap during our first dance,” Alessandra finished. She let out a small laugh. “I’ve never seen you look so panicked.”
“I’m talented at many things, but freestyling isn’t one of them, I’m afraid.”
Our DJ had wrestled control back fairly quickly, and we’d never figured out who was responsible for the unexpected musical diversion. However, it made for a good story, and I would never forget how willing Alessandra had been to roll with it. If I hadn’t already loved her more than I could fathom, I would’ve fallen head over heels right then and there.
“If I could rewind time and go back ten years, I’d do a lot of things differently,” I said. “Including beefing up the DJ’s security.” And loving you the way you deserve.
The DJ statement was a joke, but everything else wasn’t. Despite the billions in my bank accounts, I couldn’t buy the only thing I wanted.
A second chance with her.
“If only.” Alessandra gave me a sad smile. “But there’s no use living in the past.”
“No. There isn’t.” My throat constricted. The drum of my heartbeat intensified behind my ribcage. “Go on a date with me.”
She sighed. “Dom…”
“We’ve never had a real date in Brazil. Every time we’ve visited, we’ve spent it with your family.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I don’t need a reason to be with you, amor. But I’ll give you ten thousand if it means you’ll say yes.”
A visible swallow slid down her throat. “You always know what to say.”
“Not always.” I wish I did. I wish I’d said a thousand things and asked a thousand questions instead of glossing over them. “I don’t expect you to jump into a relationship with me again, or even go on a second date,” I said.
“I just want to spend time with you for as long as you’ll let me.”
Alessandra remained quiet.
“It won’t make up for the nights we lost or the dates I missed, but I…”
A mix of frustration and misery scraped my words raw. “I’m so fucking sorry. For everything.”
Eloquence had abandoned me, but if I stripped away the frills, they were the only words left. Every ounce of regret, shame, and guilt distilled into two words.
I’m sorry.
The current song ended. We’d stopped dancing long ago, but we stayed rooted to our spots while my heart thumped to a painful beat.
“One date,” Alessandra finally said. My shock of relief cut off a second later when she added, “But that’s all it is. It doesn’t mean we’re dating, and I’m free to see other people. If I do, you can’t follow me, threaten the men, or do anything else that’ll ruin the dates.”
Every muscle coiled at the thought of her dating someone else, but I fought back my visceral reaction. I was smart enough to recognize a test and a punishment when I saw them, and I was desperate enough to take them as they were given.
I dipped my head in agreement before she could walk back her concession. One date. I could work with that.
