The Wedding Crush

Chapter Nine

Stefano

“Listen man, I’ve given you space. We need to talk…” My best friend Dylan heaves an exaggerated sigh into the line.

I’ve known him since we were kids, popping wheelies on our bikes through the Napa hills. All the way up until he moved junior year in high school, then reunited in college, we’ve been thick as thieves. Even though he lives in Chi-town with his wife, son, and daughter, we’d plan family vacations together, and send holiday cards.

Still, whenever we reached out, it’s always like no time has passed.

Even when those vacations had become fewer and farther between as Carina and I found it harder to watch their family grow.

In those time gaps, though, there’s always social media keeping him in the loop.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, downplaying Carina’s romantic update.

Mainly, I’d rather forget that she’s jumped back in with two feet. But I’ve also got back-to-back virtual meetings over the next three hours. One of which is with Avery, and I’d prefer not to be in my feelings this time.

So, nonchalantly, I add, “From the looks of things, it seems she’s good, too.”

There’s a slight pause, during which I sense my guy choosing his next words wisely.

Looks like we’re doing this.

Swiping out of the “Let Yourself Grieve” podcast episode that Avery recommended, I set down my phone alongside my keyboard and half-eaten turkey sub.

“Honestly, Paula and I… I mean, you’ve been talking about the love slipping away for years, but we always thought you guys would climb out of this rough patch, the way you’ve climbed out of every other valley life has thrown at you. So, it’s been a shock to us, too.”

“Yeah, I know…”

“Just remember you’ve still got us,” he adds.

An email notification drops from the top of my computer screen. It’s from my next client, a family friend, West Woodworks, who I’m scheduled to meet within a half hour.

I toggle over to the mail app, and relief immediately works its way through me, loosening my limbs.

A meeting cancellation on a Friday?

Thank you.

My ears perk up at a low whisper in Dylan’s background, that I’m assuming belongs to Paula, eager for an update on me, too. As close as Dylan and I are, our wives forged a friendship that veered neck and neck with ours.

“If you need advice or want to vent, say as little or as much as you’re comfortable sharing,” he urges me.

We both know that means hold nothing back.

But since I suspect that sharing nothing will only lead to Dylan pushing harder, I bend.

Reclining in my desk chair, I clasp my hands behind my head.

“Carina looks happier than I’ve seen her in years. And after everything we’ve been through, losing Dad and Nono, then two babies… She deserves every ounce of joy.”

“Yeah, man.” Dylan pauses briefly, and I sense the other shoe about to drop. “And you, how are you doing?”

A calendar alert darts out from the edge of my computer screen, reminding me of my 1:30 appointment with Dante, Morgan, and Avery. Immediately, my mind drifts back to the vineyard. Back to Ace and his mom, who, by her bare ring finger, might understand divorce firsthand.

“Me? I’m uh…”

I blow out a long breath, staring at my calendar.

The entire time chatting with Ace, I got this eerie, déjà vu feeling. Like I knew him despite never having met. Then, I turned the corner off the path, spotting Morgan and Avery, and it clicked.

The same bright, sparkly brown eyes and golden-brown skin. The tiny round nose. The endless questions cued and ready to fire.

As much as I was struck by their resemblance, though, I was blindsided by how little I know about Avery Ellis.

How could this woman look at the world with rose-colored glasses when Ace himself claimed he didn’t have a dad? Which means, not only has she surrounded herself with reasons to celebrate life, but she’s also doing it with the weight of shaping a tiny human being squarely on her shoulders.

How could I complain when I only have to take care of me?

Even still, she could stand there, having overheard me talking with her son, and look at me with kind eyes? She could thank me for selfishly shooting the fan about cars with a kid because I never got the chance with my son?

I was wholly unnerved.

She was lowering her guards for me, absolving me of a guilt I rightly deserved to feel, and I was greedily softening to her.

“I’m not going to lie: divorce is for the birds.” I laugh. “But all in all, I’m finding silver linings here and there.”

“Oh yeah?”

Briefly, I wonder if Avery listened to all the podcasts that she recommended to find her silver linings. Did she need the reminders to forgive and physically take care of herself? Is that how her friends became family? How she reclaimed her own identity? Dove into event planning?

I shove the questions aside, circling back.

“Believe it or not, I’m actually calling to see if you and the family have any plans to visit your dad this September?”

Dylan huffs a little laugh. “That’s really specific. Is there a reason that we should?”

By the time I bring him up to speed on Dante’s shotgun wedding to a woman they didn’t know existed before now, they’ve booked flights, a stay at one of our lodging partner’s small BBs, opted in for all the yet-to-be-determined wedding festivities, and volunteered his four-year-old daughter, Danielle, as the flower girl.

Because my guy is hell-bent on circling back to my “well-being,” he waits until Paula leaves the room before he whispers, “All right, she’s gone. Now, hurry up and spill because that long-ass pause when I asked how you were doing spoke volumes.”

I bark out a laugh.

“How long have we known each other?” Dylan asks. “You hesitated, and as far as I’m concerned, the way you were in college… Shoot, you might be back to your player ways.”

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in me.” I chuckle. “But I’ve just been listening to some great self-help podcasts and wrapping my mind around moving on when my divorce was finalized last month, you know? There’s not really anyone.”

Just because a woman who’s previously made it known that she loathes me is suddenly nice, it doesn’t mean there’s more to it.

Dylan huffs an amused laugh.

“Not really anyone, huh? That’s what we’re going with?” The line swishes like he’s settling in for a deep dive. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?” I feign confusion, knowing, over the years, we’ve been down this road too many times to count. I’ll give a little, and he’ll pull the rest out of me.

“Let me guess, she’s some supplier for the winery?” Then he snaps his fingers. “No, no, she’s probably one of Morgan’s sisters?” Sister Circle, but close. Shit. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I inhale sharply.

My phone pings with a text notification from Avery asking to meet thirty minutes early before Dante and Morgan join. As I tap out a quick affirmative reply, hoping it’ll get me out of this interrogation, Dylan correctly interprets my silence as a confession.

“I’m proud of you, man,” he intones. “You deserve to find happiness again. I want you to be open to meeting someone and enjoying her company. If only to look long enough to fuel the spank bank.”

“Okay, thanks for that—”

My line beeps, and my sister couldn’t have more perfect timing. I take the out. “Listen Dylan, this is Chiara calling on the other line. She’s been trying to reach me since last night. I’ve got to run but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Look at you, being soft.” Dylan snorts. “But it’s cool. Call me when you want to man up and talk about this.”

The second he ends the call, my line clicks over, and I breathe a relieved sigh.

Except, in my rush to get off with Dylan, thinking, somehow, I’d been saved, I forgot this is my annoying little sister, thirteen years my junior.

If she’s calling, she wants something.

“Hey, Stef,” she croons into the line like her reaching out to me is a regular occurrence rather than a shock to my system.

“Good afternoon, Chiara. Everything all right? Did you need anything?” I rush to ask. “I’ve got another meeting here shortly.”

Considering she’s an honorary member of Morgan’s Sister Circle, I purposely leave out that it’s with Avery. The last thing I need, going into this meeting, is my sister adding to Dylan’s and Dante’s gospel to get me to be open. Nor more images to add to my mental collection for later self-pleasure.

I lower my legs and push to my feet, ducking out of the office into the hallway toward the vending machine.

It’s too early for wine, but at this rate, chocolate will have to be a substitute to get me through this day.

“No, I don’t need anything…” She trails off, her silence prickling with subtext. “I’m just trying to figure out why you lied to Avery yesterday. You haven’t had plans since 19—”

“Thank you.” The muscle at my jaw hardens. “I’m so glad I answered your call. Really, we should have these riveting chats more often.” Sarcasm bleeds into my hardened tone.

“Wow, that wasn’t an overreaction or anything.”

I huff out a sigh.

“Again, I’ve got a meeting so…”

“So, why lie to Avery?” she presses. “Is there something else going on? You can tell me.”

Okay, sure.

“What is it with everyone latching on to this subject? Avery and I are working together on our brother’s wedding. That’s it,” I bite out. “First, Dante and Dylan, now, you’re doing what? Faulting me for opting for a meeting during business hours?”

Chiara’s laugh is loud and wicked like this is too easy, I’ve seen myself into her trap.

“Be for real with me, Stef.”

She’s calling my bluff.

It would be so easy, to brush this conversation off as my nosy little sister, digging for dirt on my nonexistent love life. Now, though, that’s a valid description. Unless I use this opportunity to get a woman’s perspective regarding what women think of me. After the vineyard, what fueled Avery’s sudden eagerness to meet. Maybe, get some insight on her. Or ask about her divorce from Ace’s dad…

I shove my hand in my pocket for my wallet, slipping it free as I scour the brightly colored metallic packaged chocolate bar selection in the vending machine.

When I don’t answer, Chiara tries a different tactic.

“Would these plans happen to include ordering takeout and watching television on your couch?”

I let my head fall back onto my shoulders.

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yes.”

At least she knows it.

“I stayed home. Is that what you want to hear?” I groan. “I spent my Thursday night touring an online dating app.” Trying not to think about the way Ace’s mother looked at me at the vineyard. “I created an empty profile, which I immediately canceled when I saw how morally confused these people are who claim they’re looking for love.”

Chiara giggles. “My God, you didn’t!”

Oh, I did.

“You’re in for the rudest awakening.”

“Discouraged, I was hoping to glean a tiny morsel of insight about dating nowadays, and I ended up watching Door-to-Door Dates—”

I barely get the show name out before Chiara jumps in excitedly.

“Oh my gosh, I’ve watched all twenty seasons. What did you think?”

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t half-bad.”

She’s fully invested now, and I’m not sure if it’s a mistake getting her hyped about dating.

“And your conclusion about the current state of romance in the world was…”

Slipping a five-dollar bill into the machine, I press a letter-number combo, my mouth watering for the Snickers that plunks down. After I scoop my hand in to grab it, then my change, I rip the brown packaging off, and take a large bite.

“Can I get back to you on that? I’m still traumatized.”

We both laugh.

I’ve got to admit, I don’t hate the lightness filling my chest.

Dating is certainly not for the faint of heart.

Or the bold.

Really, I haven’t figured out who it’s for, but I’m steering clear.

“Lord, you’ve been single for two seconds,” Chiara says. “Imagine how I felt before I found Lamar.”

I don’t have to since I, along with the rest of the family, was there—on multiple occasions—mopping up endless tears and reassuring her she’s amazing and worthy of love.

Guess I should start taking my own advice.

Taking another bite of chocolaty, nougaty goodness, I let the sugar surge through my veins. I take wide strides back to my office, and plop down onto my chair.

“To answer the question that I know you’re itching to ask, no, I’m not ready to date or secretly fawning over Avery.” That much. “Between throwing myself into work, cleaning up the Healdsburg house, and spending the next two months on wedding liaison duties, that’s enough.”

“Sooo…”

“I’m not ready to date, but I want to be organized and prepared when the time comes,” I say, hoping we can change the subject now.

She releases a disappointed sigh.

For the life of me, I don’t know why I don’t see the curveball coming when my sister winds me up, only to completely throw me.

“Anyway,” she says. “If you were available, you should’ve just met up with Avery instead of lying. She seemed really disappointed when you canceled on her…”

Wait, what?

My body posture perks up.

“Disappointed?”

I’m straining to hear even the slightest hitch in her breath. Was Avery really upset that I canceled? Or is Chiara just baiting me?

My pulse surges as I wait impatiently.

“Yeah, we were all at the bridal salon yesterday, dancing and drinking champagne when y’all rescheduled for today. She was the only one sitting hunched over, looking around in confusion like she had somewhere else she wanted to be…”

No, this is ridiculous.

Avery Ellis is a young, beautiful woman with a great kid, a thriving business, and sunny outlook on life. Men are probably beating down her door for a date with her. Her ex-husband’s got to be kicking himself that he let her go.

I let out an exasperated huff.

The very notion that Avery Ellis wanted to see me seems preposterous, except…

I glance at my watch.

Avery and I are meeting early.

In five minutes.

One of which passes while I rush Chiara off the phone. Which, in hindsight feels like a mistake.

I’m left nervously staring at my reflection in my computer screen, and dissecting the nano-scopic possibility that Avery might have a small thing for me.

The instant her picture appears, I straighten, tipping my head, angling my good side to her.

“Hi!” I say, way too cheery. And loud, considering this latest addition to my newly minted spank bank.

Involuntarily, I survey her sheer black, short-sleeve blouse, her Beyoncé-esque blonde wig twisted up with a pencil, those warm brown eyes, and the sexy smile stretching her full lips.

My pulse races.

“Hey, thanks so much for joining early.” She shakes her head and blows out an amused sigh. “And for understanding yesterday. I got the date for Ace’s dental appointment mixed up, and it threw off my entire day. I was trying to squeeze everything in, but I shouldn’t’ve assumed your evening would be free to reschedule. Obviously, you’ve got a life.” She lets out a shaky laugh.

“It’s no problem, really. It’s fine,” I say, mesmerized by her slow, surveying glance.

“Okay, so…” She takes a deep breath. “It’s been a hectic week, but we made it.”

Despite myself, I inch to the edge of my seat.

“Celebrate the wins, right?” I say.

“Exactly.” Avery blinks a handful of time before she clears her throat. “Now, before we begin the meeting, I’d really love to start over with you.”

Breath bottles up in my chest, and I’m staring wordlessly.

It’s so vague.

What does she mean? Let’s introduce ourselves as if for the first time? Or pretend my brother and her best friend aren’t engaged, and I’ll ask her out on a date?

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

Avery lowers her chin to her chest, giggling. When she meets my stare again, she brightens, and I can’t discount the hope fluttering in my chest like an army of caged butterflies.

“God, Morgan and Dante will never let me live this down but…” She winces. “I was thinking maybe they’re right and we should clear the slate. You know, get to know each other on our own terms, or whatever?”

She inhales sharply.

It’s that last word that I cling to, though, as she goes on about how much we’ve got in common.

Whatever.

Avery didn’t say date or be friends or even let’s simply be cordial to each other. She wants us to build something new. That whatever is more than enough for me. We get to decide.

“At the end of the day, I hate that I misjudged you.” She shakes her head, like she’s physically dislodging the thought. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our icebreaker, and how I sorta dropped that bomb on you about my marriage. Then you meet Ace at the vineyard, and he tells you he doesn’t have a father, which isn’t exactly true.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” I say, even though I’m holding my breath and hoping she will.

She nods to herself as she pulls in a long breath.

“I want to, though.” Avery reassures me. Then, like there’s no screen between us, she fixes me with a stare so intense, so confusingly familiar. In the space of a breath, she rewrites every page I thought I knew about her as she softly adds, “I’m a widow.”

My heart bottoms out.

I was prepared for Avery to tell me about a messy marriage. About the complications that go with severing ties and years of promises and vows. In my mind, I’d already filled in blanks about financial woes and an ugly custody battle because how could I look at this woman, Pollyanna with her ever-present smile as she solves the world’s problems, and imagine she’s been masking an unthinkable hurt?

Of all the things she could’ve said, I never in a million years would’ve expected she’d lost her ex.

The parties, the overcompensating cheeriness, she doesn’t want to bring others down. She’s sunshine because she must be to block out the darkness.

“Avery, I’m so sorry.”

She waves me off, but I know loss. After Dad and Nono, I struggled to find my footing. Grief and devastation touched every aspect of my life, including my marriage. And while death and divorce are nowhere near the same—I might still bump into Carina; I know she’s still around, living her life, but Avery will never see her husband again—that sort of pain, bereavement, it’s real and unrelenting.

“It’s been three years since I lost Justin.” Her voice drifts as she lowers her gaze. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

God, part of me wishes I could reach through the screen and take her hand in mine, say something sympathetic and profound. Tell her everything is going to be okay. But deep down, I know it won’t. Time will pass, and that wound will heal, but the scar, the proof of that pain, just underneath the surface, will always be there.

I smile solemnly, encouraging Avery to continue.

“He was on his last tour. His contract was up, he was getting out, and we were finally going to have a big reception since we’d gone down to the courthouse initially.” She laughs absently. “After watching me watch Say Yes to the Dress a bazillion times, Justin was so thrilled knowing Ellis Events was taking off.”

“I’ll bet.” I smile over the lump in my throat.

Avery shrugs.

“Anyway, I don’t want to go too deep. My point in telling you all this is that we’ve gotten to know each other in snippets through Morgan and Dante, and strangely…from the Gossip Set.” She giggles. “I’d love for us to connect without the middle people. I’m hoping, in sharing real pieces of myself, maybe we’ll both be inclined to do so…”

Before I get the words out to tell her, “Of course, yes, I want a clean slate,” I hear her repeatedly muttering please under her breath.

Something like joy jolts through me as we circle back to her question.

“I’d love you.” I gasp, quickly correcting myself. “I meant I’d love to get to know each other on our terms. Or whatever…”

She deflates into a fit of giggles.

“This is too good. Serious Stefano the suit with a slip of the tongue…” Avery presses a hand to her heart, her shoulders shaking. “Who would’ve thought we’d ever see the day?”

“Come on, Pollyanna… You’re making fun of my suits again when you’re carrying around that gigantic pink flower-power planner in this digital age?”

We both shake our heads.

We’re both shocked to be enjoying this exchange more than we could’ve imagined.

“You laugh but analog doesn’t run out of battery or overheat in the sun.” Avery holds up her hands in mock surrender. A permanent smile is etched on her face as she seems to regroup. “All jokes aside, I’m happy. This has been weighing on me since yesterday.”

“Me too.”

Avery radiates with relief as she segues to how full her heart was watching me talk with Ace. Naturally, we fall into a full-blown Cars conversation before she recaps the dress-shopping shenanigans, and how much she loves the tight relationship my family shares. In the same way, her mother, Ace, and the Sister Circle keep her lifted and light.

Not some new man.

Sometime after she details the ins and outs of her flourishing business and a Hollywood glamor wedding she’s currently planning. I realize that there’s a great chance I’m enamored with Avery Ellis. Whether I’m ready or not, I want to know this woman who loves her friends fiercely, forgives easily, and smiles through chaotic days.

The air settles for all of five seconds.

Then Avery pops back up, leaning close to her screen.

“But there’s something you should know about me.” In her background, her phone rings, and she silences it before centering her attention on me again. “I’m super competitive, so if you really want to prove how cool we are, we must have the best pairs entrance dance at the ceremony.”

Only slightly concerned what other requests Morgan gave Avery yesterday, I lean in, too.

“Say less.”

If we’re forging whatever together, it’s got to be the best.

Avery slaps her hands on her desk, her face beaming before she can’t contain it any longer.

Her infectious laugh sets the tone for the rest of the meeting. She tells me Ace can’t stop talking about me, and that he’s named one of his cars Stefano, which makes my whole heart ache. Then we make plans to meet next Saturday at my place in the city—hers is a little tight and has toys bursting from its seams. We’ll lay the groundwork, pick a song while wine-tasting for the wedding menu, and practice our dance before the Champagne Sip.

Yes, yet another wedding festivity that Avery’s added to our calendar since we last spoke.

The first weekend in August, the wedding party will meet at a champagne bar, as sort of a mixer, to get to know each other before they’re—not Avery and me—thrown into the dancing deep end to choreograph a show-stopping routine.

All in all, I’m excited about the turn our whatever is taking.

I love how talkative and free, comfortable she is with me. I love that we’re about to make up some silly, lighthearted dance. More than that, I love that, during this singular meeting, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in nearly a year.

*

When Morgan andDante finally enter the ChatVideo room, Avery shares the agenda on her screen.

Agenda

Project completions from last week

This week’s projects (10–8 months items)

Bride and groom additional requests

Questions

As Avery speaks, the PowerPoint page turns to a checklist of last week’s projects. All business, she checks off choose a date, wedding style, venue selection, assembling a team of wedding pros, and select a fairy-tale wedding dress.

Avery and Morgan break out into squeals and happy clapping.

Dante and I share an exhausted glance.

“So, before we switch to Stefano’s projects, Morgan, we’ve got a jeweler appointment this coming Tuesday to purchase Dante’s ring, save-the-dates and invitations have been designed, and…” She pulls in a small breath, then sags on the desk. “Look, I know we’re not on your additional requests yet, but guys, if you’re really going for fifty guests, we need to do some serious cutting and send the save-the-dates this week, Dante…”

Oof!

Avery shoots daggers at him through the screen.

Morgan elbows him, and whispers out the side of her mouth, I’m guessing reminding him what we’re discussing.

He groans.

As expected, the guest list is evidently a point of contention.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Mom this week,” he says.

“Great, now, I want to confirm the wedding party members.” Avery reads from her huge pink planner, “On the bride’s side, we’ve got Monica, Valerie, Seneca, Chiara, and me, for a total of five. On the groom’s, there’s Stefano, Marcello, Mike, Everett, and…” She glances over her notes. “Looks like, Jameson, also, for a grand total of five.”

“Dante, seriously?” I ask.

“What?” My brother’s head pops up again guiltily from his phone where I’m sure he’s been sneaking to watch baseball.

“Jameson for a groomsman?” I ask. “What are you trying to do?”

He shrugs.

Apparently, it’s no big deal to include—and partner—a guy who grew up with our sister and who abruptly ended their friendship without explanation.

“Does Chiara know?” I ask.

“Should Chiara care when she’s dating his best friend?” Dante counters.

A long silence ensues.

Luckily, Avery stays her course, confirming Ace will be ring bearer, while I chime in, rounding out the wedding party and officially naming Dylan’s daughter, Danielle, as flower girl.

Honestly, we really are the dream team.

After she passes me the project baton, the PowerPoint pages turns again, and I check off my completed lodging and catering projects. In no time, we divvy up this week’s tasks: wedding party attire (Avery); book officiant (my cousin, Enzo); mail save-the-dates (Avery); bridal undergarments (not touching that one with a ten-foot pole), and registries (Avery). With Avery’s business, she’s already secured a photographer, videographer, deejay, and florist. She’s even reached out to her bridal magazine editor clients about featuring the wedding.

I’m feeling like a slacker.

The page turns on the screen, and Bride and Groom Additional Requests is in bold at the center.

Avery closes her planner.

“Down to our last order of business…” She quirks a small smile. “We’ve covered the entrances dances and the smaller guest list, but I wanted to bring this last one to Stefano’s attention.”

“Sure, let me know how I can help,” I say, eager to pull my weight. Even if my mind has time-traveled to next Saturday, picturing Avery and me swaying to the beat.

“Well, it seems Victoria requested to invite Carina.”

Shit.