Chapter 26 - THE SECOND WEDDING
Camille and I married at a small botanical garden.
No mansion.
No corporate ballroom.
No ice sculptures.
Absolutely no ice sculptures.
Ilaria was eleven.
She wore a green dress and rolled down the aisle faster than the wedding coordinator wanted.
She carried no flowers.
She carried the rings in a zippered pouch attached to her chair because she said baskets were “baby stuff.”
Before the ceremony, Camille crouched beside her.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because weddings are weird.”
“Correct.”
Then Ilaria said:
“Cam?”
“Yes?”
“If I call you Mom when I’m old, does that mean Marina not Mom?”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Then she rolled away.
During vows, Camille promised me partnership.
Not motherhood.
We had learned.
At reception, Ilaria requested extra ice in her lemonade.
The server hesitated because he knew our family story from nothing—no, he did not know. Better.
He simply asked:
“Lots?”
Ilaria said:
“A mountain.”
Ice cubes filled the glass.
She drank.
No fear.
May you like
No symbolism required.
Just lemonade.
