My Big Fat Fake Wedding(110)

“Papa, I’m so sorry.” I look from him to Nana to Mom, pleading with them for forgiveness.

“Don’t apologize for anything,” he says, patting my arm. “As for my advice . . . live your life, Violet. I love you, honey, but I am an old man. Regardless of whether I live one more day or one more decade, you can’t live your life for me. Go and find your happiness. That’s what I truly want. That’s what I wanted all along. Walking you down the aisle was never about it being the end of my bucket list but about it being the beginning of your life. I just wanted to see my little Violet grown up and happy. That’s all.”

The words take a lot out of him, and he’s wheezing a little at the end. “Stefano?” Nana says carefully.

He smiles and holds up a hand, letting us know he’s okay.

“But . . . wait,” I reply, starting to argue before something he just said hits me. “What’s this about a decade?”

Papa taps his chest, tracing over the scar I know is hidden by his hospital gown. “That’s the good news, too. Dr. Lee said that I was a textbook patient on the table. He said that with my new hardware, if I’m good and listen to Angela” —he looks at her lovingly— “I’ve maybe got a few more years in me. No promises, of course, but we’re never promised tomorrow. But it’s enough hope that maybe I’ll give up a few things, and lead a bland, boring life of ease. Except for lasagna. They can pry that out of my cold, dead hands.”

I swat at his arm super-gently. “That’s not funny, Papa!”

“I was the one who almost died, so if I want to tell jokes about it, then I will. And no granddaughter of mine is going to stop me.” He smiles, and I can’t help but return one, even if the reminder still hurts.

Papa lies back and closes his eyes. “Tell me what happened. All of it . . . from that figlio di puttana to your Ross.”

Mom gasps, “Dad!”

My Italian is excellent and fluent, but that’s not an expression I’ve ever heard Papa say. I look to Mom in confusion and whisper, “What’s that mean?”

Nana chuckles. “Mmm, my English curses are not the best, but something like son of a . . .”

Mom interrupts. “Motherfucker. Your grandfather just called Colin a motherfucker.”

Nana exclaims happily, “Yes, that’s it!”

I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good. Papa is awake and going to be okay, my mom and Nana are sitting with me, and we’re all smiling. It’s everything I wanted . . . almost.

I tell them the whole story—how Ross and I ended up faking an engagement and wedding, how Colin came crawling back and I’d told him to get lost, and how I fell in love with Ross. For real. But now it’s all in ruins.

“Oh, Violet,” Mom says, tears in her eyes as she hugs me to her. I let myself get wrapped in her arms like when I was younger, even if I’m taller than she is now. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Mom.”

Nana throws her arms around us, sobbing out. “I’m sorry too.”

I look at her through blurry eyes. “What are you sorry for?”

She smiles. “I don’t know, but I didn’t want to be left out.”

And then we’re hugging again, a mess of tears and a blend of Italian and English as we make up.

Papa looks on from his bed with one eye open and a smile until we’re done.

“So, what are you going to do about your husband, Vi?” he asks.

“Papa, he’s not really my husband. We’ll probably just get it annulled.” The words catch in my throat painfully.

He motions for Nana to come closer and whispers in her ear. She dips her chin like she’s asking if he’s sure and he nods. She stands upright and then lays a sucker punch to my upper arm.

“Hey! What was that for?” I say, rubbing the spot even though Nana couldn’t hurt a fly with a weak punch like that.

“You’ll do no such thing until you tell him the truth of how you feel and see if he feels the same way,” Papa decrees. He literally just told me to live my life for myself and not him, but then he turns around and starts making proclamations like he’s a king. Not that I’m going to tell the man in the hospital bed with a new hardware-improved heart to hush.

Mama is slightly kinder. “Baby girl, that boy is over the moon for you. I saw that, which is why I was so mad. I thought he was lying to you, you were lying to him, and you were both lying to everyone. And that Colin boy? What were you ever thinking?” She shakes her head, her nose crinkled like she smells something bad.

I twist my lips. “I don’t know, Mom. Maybe we were lying. Maybe mostly to ourselves.”

“Tell him,” Papa says again.

And this time, I nod in agreement. “I will.”

“If he is not so sure, maybe remind him how beautiful you looked in your dress. Or remind him of other things. The stomach is not the only way to a man’s heart,” Nana says slyly. “Did I ever tell you how I got Stefano to propose to me?”

“NO!” Mom and I shout at the same time, but we smile when we see Nana and Papa making lovey-dovey eyes at one another. I probably don’t want to hear that story, but if that look after fifty years of marriage is what I can have with Ross, I’m willing to do just about anything.