The Wedding Crush

Chapter Fifteen

Stefano

Naturally, instead of answering any of my dozen or so calls or leaving a voicemail, Mother chooses an impromptu visit to the winery, half an hour before Avery’s scheduled to arrive. She’s dressed in a pale pink, made-to-measure skirt suit with burgundy suede pumps and simple diamond studs. Her hair is laid smoothly against her warm brown skin.

I’ve sat at her right for every quarterly meeting for the past seven years. I know when Victoria Fortemani is biding her time before she broaches business at hand.

“I’m sure you’ve received my messages,” I grumble.

Mother lingers near the barrel-lined wall of the cellar, her raincoat draped over her arm, her back to me. She’s quietly inspecting a barrel that was quality-tested, approved, and filled months ago.

“Darling, you know how I hate it when you mutter. Now, speak up,” she demands.

I think about the podcasts Avery recommended. Reclaim your own identity. Be firm. State what you want clearly.

Straightening, I clear my throat.

“As I stated in the texts, voicemails, and emails, I’m asking you to rescind Carina’s invitation,” I say sharply. “We’re both moving on with our lives.”

Her slender fingers steady on the wood.

When she turns to face me, a placating smile evens her expression.

“Darling, it wouldn’t be right. She’s already RSVP’d. She’s our family, and we don’t throw people away simply because the dynamics of your relationship have changed.”

I hate the patronizing edge to her tone.

Her hand hovers tellingly over her chest the way she always does when she’s uneasy. “Besides, would it really be so unbearable for one afternoon?”

An exhausted laugh blusters from my chest.

I drop my head in my hands, scrubbing them over my face before I meet her unreceptive stare again.

“Yes!” I scoff.

My mouth tenses.

The edge to my tone echoing in the cool, enclosed space seems to take her by surprise. I never raise my voice with her. I’ve never had to. But I can’t budge on this.

Her face contorts.

“Who’s more important, here, hmm? Me or my ex-wife, who’s parading around her new boyfriend?”

Mother’s posture shifts.

I feel her attention fixated on me, studying me, reading my energy, looking at me with assessing eyes. Almost like it didn’t warrant her focus before, Mother’s gaze catalogues my unkempt curls, casual, loose-fitting khaki chinos and heather grey quarter-zip sweater. As she works her way down to my white leather sneakers, I’m grateful I decided against the Dream Team shirt, lest she question whether I’m her son at all.

Self-consciously, I rub my hands along my pants.

“Obviously, I choose you,” Mother says, but her searching brown eyes beg: Tell me what all this stems from.

I hate that I’m letting this conversation get under my skin, when it’s not Mother’s nor Carina’s feelings I’m concerned about in this situation.

Avery deserves more than I gave her.

If I’m really going to try with her—and make no mistake about it, I want to—I can’t do it with my mother clinging to the past.

Especially, not if I’m going to ask Avery to be my wedding date.

Briefly checking my watch, I suck in a deep breath, then steady my gaze on her again.

“Listen, Mother, if your tea party gave us any insight at all, I’d hoped you’d have seen that it’s hard enough with everyone commenting about our divorce. Inserting themselves in Carina’s efforts to start anew.” I’m still struggling to keep my head but the question I’m working toward is steady on my tongue. “What if I found someone new, too?”

Mother perks up.

She arches a curious eyebrow.

But then the corners of her mouth pull down, and I sense she’s suppressing a smile. She’s putting two and two together. My attire, checking the time, now uninviting Carina, it’s all a riddle she’s intent on solving. Mother’s highly sensitive intuition is firing on all cylinders.

There’s no denying to Victoria Fortemani that this is about a woman.

But she doesn’t know who.

It’s the only card up my sleeve. I’ve got her full attention now.

“What if I wanted to bring someone to Dante’s wedding? Don’t you think it’d be hard enough for this woman to imagine herself in our family, especially when her spot is still occupied by my ex-wife in her delicate condition?”

If I’d have blinked I might’ve missed her sharp intake of air.

I’ve surprised her.

Only, I’m not sure about which part—that I’m mentioning bringing a wedding date, that I’m at the point I’m considering this woman’s inclusion in our family, that Carina is pregnant, or all of the above.

I’ve given her a lot to chew on.

As I watch her incessantly blinking, grappling to digest it all, I refuse to lead her.

“It seems I’ve missed a great deal in these past few weeks.”

“Indeed.”

She worries her lips, nodding like she’s still turning over everything in her head.

“Delicate condition?”

Of course, she starts with the gravest news. Reduce worry, and end on the best note,she always says.

I shrug, ambivalently. “Yes, it would seem so, if her social media is any indication.”

She shoots me a pointed stare, scrutinizing my seemingly cavalier response.

“I see.” A small sigh seeps from her lips. “I wasn’t aware.”

“At the end of the day, I’ve made my peace with it. We gave our marriage one hundred and ten percent, and now, we’ve grown apart. Together, we made a choice to consciously uncouple so we can both live happily even after divorce. She’s finding hers, and I’m…working on mine.”

Mother releases a hysterical laugh like she’s exhausted by all the neologic language people use to sever ties. To her, whether by death or divorce, losing a spouse isn’t something she takes lightly.

It’s why she hasn’t remarried since we lost Dad. I suspect, why she’s maintained a relationship with Carina, and even entertained sending an invitation.

She loves to the roots.

“Very well then.” Her downcast gaze settles on the door where light rain is coming down. Then a faint smile curves her rosy lips. “I will do as you’ve asked and call her today.”

“Thank you.”

Again, she considers me, and I’m guessing I know what else is nagging at her.

“Is there anyone else you’d like to tell me about? Someone special, perhaps…” Anyone else I’d like to tell her about.

My cheeks burn under her teetering smile.

“No.”

I wonder if I should reconsider, tell her that, somehow, without my consent, Avery’s snuck into my life and possibly my heart. In a matter of weeks, she’s become important to me, and there’s a slight chance I might be falling for her in a way I’d never fallen, not even in my marriage.

With us, although I suspect I wouldn’t mind, it’s not about building an approved nuclear life together. It’s about passion and purpose and feeling good with a person who knows my entire mess, and still makes me laugh. She finds silver linings, plays twenty questions on video chat, makes up ridiculous dances, and genuinely, wholeheartedly loves with everything she has.

I’d be a fool to let something as small as fear get in the way.

I want to earn her love if that’s where this takes us.

But I don’t say any of that to Mother.

Nor do I sense she buys my answer. Still, she graciously lets me off the hook for now.

The rain picks up, falling in fat drops.

Not wanting to get caught in it, she hurries to slip her arms into the sleeves of her raincoat, retrieve her umbrella from her purse, and dash out into the fray.

What seems like a minute later, Avery rushes insides with her coat shielded over her head, her feet squelching with every footstep.

She’s drenched.

Her usual bright sundress, kelly-green this time, clings to her swollen breasts and round thighs. Her hair is stuck to her face, and her shoes are covered in mud.

“Oof, it is coming down out there, but I made it.” She chances a quick look at me before her attention snaps to the tasting table heaped with the menu options from our restaurant, Bramoso, and a flight of glasses filled with a selection of white and red wines.

“Glad you made it safely,” I say.

“Thanks.” Avery inches toward the table, plucking at her soaked dress. She’s clearly uncomfortable but she seems resolved to get straight to the business. “This looks amazing. It’ll be early afternoon, so a starter salad, a few protein options with pastas and vegetables, and we’re good.”

I nod. “Should we maybe have a specialty item like truffles or dulse-wrapped grapes.”

“Oh my God that would be great with the vineyard setting and Morgan’s lavender and gold theme. Maybe we can skip the spring salad and go for a Waldorf with Concord grapes…”

Snapping my fingers, I grab my pen and jot down notes. “Paired with a light-bodied red, or even a Riesling, a nice Pinot Grigio—”

“I love it.” Avery’s voice buoys with excitement before she seems to realize she’s falling into our easy, comfortable ways, and tamps down her enthusiasm.

A shiver vibrates her shoulders.

Again, Avery plucks at her dress, and I know I shouldn’t overstep. I should do nothing. I should put in the action. Double down on my prayers.

But try as I may, I can’t stand here and watch her suffer.

“Can I get you a blanket or offer you my sweater?” I’m already pulling it over my head when she leans in and steadies my hand.

My skin feels electric.

My heart flutters as our eyes connect.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

I toss her a challenging stare. “You’re shivering, and I may have noticed your teeth chattering.”

Despite herself, her attention falls briefly to my lips.

“Let’s just focus on the menu and wine list,” she says sharply.

But her gaze falters, and I can’t let the moment pass. Not without opening to her.

“Avery?”

“Please, let’s focus on the menu and wine list,” she repeats.

Her chest rises and falls punctuating her nerves.

My desperation heightens as I study her beautiful features. Her dark, sweeping eyelashes over warm brown eyes. Her smooth golden-brown skin, and those lips.

Inching closer, I reach out and glide the pad of my thumb over her lower lip, drawing her eyes.

I want to kiss her so bad.

“I’m sorry.” My heart rams against my ribs. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for letting even a moment go by without reaching out to you. I should’ve called. You should be sick of me texting and emailing, and doing everything in my power to let you know I miss you.”

She shakes her head. “Just stop. You really don’t have to say anything, Stefano. We never said this was serious. Remember, fun until it isn’t anymore?” She shrugs. “I get it. It stopped being fun for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard you with Victoria…”

I bark out a laugh.

“You think I’m going to tell my mother how I feel about you, right now? Fresh off my divorce? As eager as she is to grow her family?” I snicker. “Avery, you do remember she was the mastermind behind the whole selling-the-vineyard hoax, right? The woman knows no boundaries when it comes to her kids. Of course, I said there was no one special.”

She grins, and her shoulders relax.

“You know as well as I do, Victoria Fortemani would be so quick to orchestrate a shotgun wedding. Another son down the aisle, plus a grandson as great as Ace…”

We both laugh.

Although, I can’t deny how much I love the idea, myself.

“So…”

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m sorry. I miss you. My fear got the best of me, and I let too many days go by, but I still want to try. If you’re willing.” I blow out a soft breath. “We can take our time because you are special to me.”

Avery blinks slowly, like she’s still turning over everything I’ve said. Then she asks, “What are your fears?”

I drape my sweater over Avery’s trembling shoulders, training my focus on her eyes. And not the way my abdomen aches at the sight of her dress riding up her slick, smooth thighs.

One by one, I tell her every concern I shared with Dante at the tux fitting—her, losing her husband; me, unaware how to move on while my ex seems to be an expert; whether I’m father material; my uncertainty around doing the work to get to know her, and it turns out to be all for naught; the risk of building a connection with Ace, and hurting him if it doesn’t work out. Whether I deserve the woman I’m falling for…

Before I can get the rest out, I bend down, pulling a cardboard box from underneath the table.

“I know you come as a package deal, so I’d love to spend some real time with Ace, if that’s okay with you,” I say. “This is for him.”

Avery’s gaze flutters disbelievingly at me before she glances at the name on the box.

“Is this?”

“Junior is my son’s name. He would’ve been Stefano Elias Fortemani, Jr.”

She swallows, her expression softening with unspoken empathy. “I can’t take this.”

“It would mean so much to see Ace play with them. There are trucks, robots, balls, and a tiny baseball mitt.” Emotion lodges in my throat. “I may have stocked up on a bunch of Hot Wheels and Cars-themed merch, too. Lightning McQueen is cool.”

A laugh sputters from Avery.

“I can’t believe you did all this. Are you kidding me? I’d love for you to hang out with us. He’s going to go out of his mind when he sees this box full of toys.”

“You know…” I let my eyes sweep over her body. “I also got you a toy.”

Avery’s mouth falls open.

But then her eyes darken.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, knowing full well I’ve just turned her on in public. Again.

The air between us smolders.

She sets the box on the table and raises up on her tiptoes. Her lips curve deliciously as she clasps her hands behind my neck and brushes her lips over mine.

The kiss is tender and emotional, communicating without words what we haven’t earned the right yet, to say. I want you. I’m in this with you. If you’ll let me, I could be everything you deserve.

It’s real for me.

“You’re worth the risk to me, Stefano.”

Just like that, in a single sentence, Avery rebuffs my worries and fills my heart.

“Yeah? How about the dangerous task of being my wedding date?”

The way she teases my tongue and fists my shirt in her hands, tugging me closer still…

This firefly of a woman drives me wild.

“Is the winery closed?” she mouths into the kiss.

Immediately, I know the dark, steamy places her mind has descended to.

“Is that a yes to being my date?”

She deepens the kiss. “It’s a hell yes.”

I wouldn’t dare stop to check the time, so I ballpark my estimate based on the time I think she arrived.

“Half hour, twenty minutes, give or take a few minutes.” Which, in the throes of passion, feels like an eternity.

It’s shameful really, what we’re thinking about doing in yet another public place.

This is a business.

One my mother just left, and could return to on a whim. One where my employees’ respect and work ethic could be affected.

But I don’t care because Avery Ellis wants me.

It feels only right to match my action with this answered prayer.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She tucks her lower lip between her teeth, and it’s nearly my undoing.

I arch an eyebrow.

As she slips her hand under my shirt, I know I’m in the best kind of trouble.

“No one needs to know, right?” she begs.

I nod. “Right. I know a place,” I say, scooping her up in my arms, and transplanting us to the far end of the cellar, in the darkest corner between stacked barrels. Lowering myself onto my knees, I hook her knee over my shoulder. “Now, try not to make a sound…” I instruct, knowing good and well my request only makes it ten times harder as I drag my tongue along her most sensitive flesh.

In minutes, Avery’s hands are fisted in my hair, her lips are clamped shut as she falls apart in my mouth.

With her wilted against the wall, I straighten.

“Good girl, Pollyanna.” I smile.

I’ve experienced what those words do to her—what that name does.

I see it in her eyes that she’s recharged and ready to go again. This is how it is with us.

She’s my magnet.

I can’t be near her without touching, feeling, clambering to hear my name on her tongue as we bring each other to the edge and fall together.

Soon, my sweater and her wet dress are on the floor, and she’s fumbling with my belt and unfastening my pants. We’re a mess of lips, tongues, and wanderlust hands roaming freely over each other’s aching bodies like we’ve known each other for years and been apart for months instead of weeks.

And it feels right.

The fit and feel of us, makes me wonder why I wasted so much time trying to force my marriage to work when Avery is every dream I’ve ever had come to life.

With her panting in my ear and wilting in my arms, I deepen my strokes.

I want it to last.

I want us to last.