Chapter 115: THE WEDDING DAY
ARIA
Dominic arrives at eleven exactly.
I hear the car on the gravel from upstairs, where Ariana is doing something to my hair that she has been describing for twenty minutes as simple and which has involved four different tools and two consultations with Nadia, who turns out to have opinions about hair that are both specific and correct. Eleanor is downstairs, moving through the kitchen with the quiet purposeful efficiency of someone who has been managing the logistics of this day since before anyone else woke up and who will not permit anything to be imperfect on a day that she has been waiting twenty-three years to witness.
"He's here," I say.
"You cannot go down yet," Ariana says.
"I know," I say. "I just wanted to know he was here."
Ariana meets my eyes in the mirror with the twin look, the one that requires no translation, and continues with what she is doing.
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