The Wedding Crush

Chapter Thirteen

Stefano

Avery has spent the past week avoiding me.

Initially, when she canceled our Monday and Thursday ChatVideo meetings, and sent detailed emails instead, marking our planning progress, I figured she was simply busy. She’s an event planner. Dante and Morgan’s wedding obviously isn’t her sole account.

Understandable.

But now, I’m surrounded by my brother and the groomsmen, sitting on a cushy leather chesterfield in a tuxedo shop, mentally recounting another polite and professional, novel-length email that came this morning, and I know I’ve screwed myself.

At this point, I can’t even deny that I miss Avery. I’ve listened to all her podcast recommendations. I made a Nineties RB wedding playlist. I’ve practiced our dance moves to the point I could lead a boy band. My Web searches consist of bridal planners to replace her archaic pink monstrosity, and every brand of toy cars there is. I’m now officially a Cars and Lightning McQueen merch expert.

Disney should hire me.

The worst of it, though?

I’m now sleeping with a stuffed prickly pear cactus whose tiny “Big Prick Energy” card brings me an inordinate amount of joy, daily. When I’m not cursing my fears, of course.

So, yes. I’ve got feelings for Avery Ellis.

Plain and simple.

Right out the gate, I’m crushing on the first woman I’ve spent any real time with after my divorce, which is just ridiculous. I’m supposed to be dipping my toe back in the dating waters. Open, as in, to women. Plural. Having fun until it isn’t anymore, right?

But how can I even think of another woman when, daily, I’m waking up to X-rated reels of us behind Il Sapore? How, when I want to be back at her place in bed with that sexy smile teetering on her full lips every time that I touched her?

Dante snaps his fingers next to my ears, jolting me out of my thoughts. He and the other groomsmen are on their feet, staring at me expectantly like they’ve called my name a few times.

“Yeah?”

My brother’s eyebrows crinkle and he shakes his head. “Space cadet. Let’s go.”

Shoot, get your head in the game, Stefano.

I scratch my temple, still dazed as I push to my feet and follow them back toward the changing rooms for our tuxedo fittings.

“No, I was just thinking about, uh…” Avery’s raspy, musical laugh, taunting my ears. Her breath on my skin, her fingers in my hair, the heady feeling of her tight body pinned beneath me.

Shit.

Dante tosses back an impatient glance. “What was that?”

I should spare him the lies.

I’m doing a terrible job of selling them to a guy who knows me inside and out. I’m a person who says what I mean, and with conviction. I don’t stutter. For damn sure, I don’t space out in front of room full of guys who witnessed me slink back into the Champagne Sip looking like I got bodied.

They know.

I know they know, but Avery and I agreed to keep it under wraps.

If nothing else, I’m a man who may have screwed up the best thing I’ve got going, worrying what our hookup meant going forward, but I keep my word.

“Right, I was saying, we could really elevate this look with matching socks and pocket squares.”

Up ahead, Jameson cackles. “Tell me your style is dated without telling me your style is dated.” He shoots me a chastising glance over his shoulder. “D, your brother is going to have us looking corny as hell.”

Mike and Everett choose nonviolence, giving zero input. Both are married, and probably remember there’s always one knucklehead groomsmen who thinks weddings are hookup opportunities masked as fashion shows.

Dante snickers. “Could be a nice personal touch…”

The sales associate smirks as he passes us our tuxes and directs us to our assigned changing room.

“What about suspenders, Stef?” Jameson calls out from behind the curtain.

My brother, steadies my arm, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t hurt him,” I say. “Not too bad, anyway.”

Dante chuckles.

But after Everett and Mike enter their rooms, my brother pulls me out to the main lobby. In a hushed tone, he asks, “What’s really going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

He tilts his head. “Really? You’ve been zoned out since you arrived, and now you’re letting Jameson get under your skin over socks and suspenders? Come on, be for real with me, Stef. Something’s on your mind.”

I swallow, debating how to go about this without breaking Avery’s trust.

I’ve tried not to think about her.

There’s only so many balance sheets to juggle and miles to run on a treadmill when Avery is in my inbox, on my phone, and in my thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about her. That story behind her wig hit me harder than playing with her son, for Chrissakes. Even her mother—though, I suspect she knew what we’d been up to—she made me feel comfortable and welcome, no questions asked. It only made me love Avery’s and my dynamic more.

Until I freaked out.

Dante must know I’m conflicted because he adds, “Hypothetically speaking. If you can’t tell me exactly what’s going on, then tell me in broad strokes.”

Nodding, I rub my hand over my face.

This could work.

“So, remember when we talked about me being open?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s just say, I kicked the damn door down.”

A ghost of a proud smile plays on his face. “So, you’ve met someone?”

“Man…” I sigh. “This woman is…” I was going to say something like lightning in a bottle, or magic. But I need to say this in terms that we know like the backs of our hands. “Okay, imagine you’ve got a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc or Rosé, right?”

Dante shifts on his feet, folding his arms across his chest with an invested smile stretched from ear to ear.

“So, she’s young.”

See, this is a language we know.

“Mm-hmm. Not too young but aged to perfection. The elements haven’t been good to her, but now she’s open and ready to enjoy. Ready to be at the center of celebrations…” I slowly dip my chin, my eyebrows rising. Hint hint.

Immediately, Dante picks up what I’m putting down.

“Oh shit.”

My shoulders sag at my sides. “I know. It’s not ideal, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t even think she’d…agree with my palate.”

His shoulders bounce. “Honestly, I had a feeling. You never really know whether you’re immediately going to love it or if it’ll clash with what you’ve…okay, can we skip the wine, and just talk freely, now? Hypothetically, about this woman?”

I chuckle and nod. “You’ve got to admit, that metaphor was on point, though.”

“I’ll give it to you. But to my point, it doesn’t matter what you thought it’d be like with her. What matters is, how’s your chemistry? Are you thinking about her constantly, can’t get her off your mind?”

“It’s ridiculous. I can’t work, go to the gym, watch movies, nothing.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I just don’t understand how it’s this bad so fast, but there are…feelings involved.”

He nods solemnly, contemplatively.

“What are your reservations?”

Our sales associate, tosses us a quick smile, subliminally telling us we can talk all we want after our appointment, so I’m inclined to get to the crux of my issue.

“Here’s the kicker—I might’ve fucked it up.” I pull my lips between my teeth, inwardly berating myself for being an idiot.

Dante arches an eyebrow.

“Let’s just say, she comes as a package deal, and I got spooked by the kid.” I drop my head into my hand. “And the irony isn’t lost on me, that he is the coolest little guy. Like, I genuinely could hang out with him and have the best time. He’s everything I dreamed about when Carina and I were trying.”

“But?”

“I don’t know, I just got it in my head that, maybe I was never meant to have kids—”

“With. Carina.” He punctuates each word like he wants it to sink in.

I’m not as religious as I am spiritual, but I believe in a higher power. I believe in action and prayer. With Carina, I did both until my hands, back, and knees hurt.

But maybe, this is everything happening for a reason. What if Carina’s pregnancy is further proof of Dante’s point? What if kids weren’t in the plan for our union?

“Stef, you’re thinking too much, and I know this is what you do. You’re logic and learning, but there’s no how-to book with the answers for this.” Dante glances over to the guys standing in their black-and-white penguin suits, watching us, and he holds up a finger. “Listen, this is still new. You don’t know how this is going to go, so just have fun.”

My heart races as I think about what he’s saying means for me. For me, with Avery.

“Action plus prayer. Both are required to heal. Do the work. Get to know her. And her kid. Stop thinking logically. Follow your feelings instead of thinking about how much time has passed, rushing in, and what other people will think. There’s only two people in this relationship.”

I hold up a finger. “Technically, it’s three people. And I wouldn’t call it a relationship.”

Dante chuckles. “Whatever. Just give it a chance. If she makes you feel like the best version of yourself, and you have fun, and you look forward to every day…that’s the good stuff. Don’t let it go.”

“But what if I build this connection with her and her son, and it doesn’t work out? What if I don’t have what it takes to be a father? I don’t want to hurt the kid.” As it is, Avery and I have been hurt enough from our past marriages.

“The fact that you’re worried about that at all, tells me you’re already better than you think.”

I toss him a questioning glance and he nods, reassuringly.

“Anyway…” Dante swipes his hand over his freshly shaven head. “If you’re really into her…” He grins. “Consider talking to Mom about uninviting Carina. Bring this full-bodied Rosé instead. It’s hard to move on if your family’s still living in the past.”

With that nugget of wisdom, he dashes back to the changing room.

Quickly, I tap out a text to Avery.

Hey, everything is looking good on this end with the tux fitting. My cousin Enzo got back to me, and he’s down to be the officiant. Dante’s working on his vows, too. Wondering if this Thursday, we can meet at the winery to finalize the catering menu and playlist for the deejay.

Just in case, I add another option.

I’m open Saturday, too, if that works better for you. Let me know.

Then, before I can overthink it, I follow it up with…

I’d love to see you.

My mind is heavy as I put my phone away, but I quickly shove aside my worries and insecurities, regretful that I’ve managed to make this male bonding experience for my brother, about me.

Once we’ve all donned our tuxes, and we’re standing still so we don’t get poked by needles, the fitting shenanigans are underway, and I start feeling like myself. Or, at least not wound up with anxiety.

“On a real note, Stef, these pocket squares aren’t half-bad,” Jameson begrudgingly admits.

I raise my hands, smiling though refusing to take the bait.

But I’ve known this guy for years, so it doesn’t shock me when he starts fishing for details about my conversation with Dante.

“So, y’all are all good, then?” He darts a fishing glance at me in the mirror then to Dante, brows raised as if concerned.

I’m not buying it for a second.

Mike and Everett share a pointed look, suppressing their laughter.

I huff out a sigh. “Ask what you all want to know.”

Dante shuts us down though. “Who’s up for drinks after this? There’s an upscale bar that just opened down the street, and I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

A wave of collective laughter rushes over the guys.

“Drinks at a new bar?” Everett shoots him an impressed look.

“You’re not rushing home to Morgan?” Mike guffaws. “It’s been two hours. Will y’all survive being apart this long?”

Dante isn’t having it.

He immediately lights into Mike and Everett. “I know you two aren’t calling me whipped. Let me check your phones. I’ll bet you’ve texted your wives in the last ten minutes.”

They both laugh guiltily.

“Shoot, I was going to pay for the first round and have Stef give you details about the bachelor party, but since you’ve got jokes…” Dante shoots daggers at them in the mirror.

Mike moves to turn to him, and howls from getting poked.

“Instant karma,” Jameson says. “Every one of y’all are whipped and thinking about your women.” He throws up his hand, fingers splayed wide. “If I’m lying, drop a finger right now, then show me your phone…”

Dante, Mike, and Everett are bent over laughing, guilty as all get-out.

As timely as ever, my phone pings.

I’d love to say I don’t know why, but in this moment, every pair of eyes in the room shifts to me.

The corners of my mouth twitch tellingly.

Without a doubt, I know it’s Avery responding to my text. Even if it’s not, now I’m thinking about her again.

Jameson smirks.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” he says.