The Wedding Crush

Chapter Twenty-Two

Avery

About three months ago, Morgan and I both had client meetings ten minutes away from each other. She picked me up. We drove to a snazzy new restaurant that, of course, only had valet parking. Completely normal in the city. Except, she’d also valeted earlier, and spent the last of her cash. Long not-so-story short, she borrowed ten bucks. Just a simple favor between friends.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Morgan reminded me, no less than a dozen times, about the money, until she made it to an ATM. Despite my insistence that it was fine, she paid the highway robbery fee, claiming it was worth to show her appreciation for the favor.

It was that important to her.

Same thing when she first found her city apartment, the Sister Circle helped her move. She returned the favor with all four of us. That’s just the cloth she’s cut from.

Morgan Elaine Forster, soon-to-be Fortemani, always returns favors with a smile and a touch of dramatic flair.

No matter how long it’s been.

So, I’m not surprised on Monday night following the parties, when Stefano and I reach the foot of the vineyard staircase, and Morgan and Dante are standing on the landing, fleeced in matching white and black satin pajamas, respectively, for our double date.

Well, not technically.

As far as the guys know, Morgan planned dinner for us to “finalize last-minute wedding to-do list items.” What tonight is about, is returning favors. Of sorts.

In the same vein as the Fortemanis’ vineyard hoax, which they fabricated to light a fire underneath Dante, Morgan is helping Stefano out of his own way by helping me drop my “oopsie, baby” news.

One way or the other, I’ll know just how certain—or not—he is about me, once he realizes my package deal recently got bundled.

So yeah, heavy on the flair and dramatics.

The plan is simple.

She’s already made dinner, plated it, and set it on the coffee table. Something about no barriers between us, physical or otherwise. Once we get inside, we’ll settle around the table, and boom! Stefano in the hot seat.

In her words, “show or go.”

Trust me, there was a whole slew of “shit or get off the pot” alternatives. Order or get out of line. Fish or cut bait. Puff it or pass it. Daddy up or deadbeat.

We went with the least aggressive, most fitting.

“Oh wow! You all came dressed for the occasion.” Dante is all oblivious, charming smile and easy posture as he greets me with a kiss on the cheek. Then he turns to Stefano. “Matching Dream Team shirts…” He blows out an impressed breath. “This damn sure is one for the books.”

“You should talk,” Stefano counters. “I feel like I should call you Hef with those pajamas. Did we miss the memo?”

“Ugh don’t mind those fools.” Morgan shakes her head and fixes her wide-eyed, conspiratorial stare on me. “What’s more important is I sure hope you brought your appetite.” She winks.

“Girlll!” I let my head and shoulders slump with my exaggerated moan. “Is that even a real question?”

She laughs, pulling me up the last step into a full-body hug, then quickly withdrawing when she notices me wince.

“Relax.” A laugh rumbles out of me. The panic etched across her face is proof she’s got no clue whether it’s my breasts or my belly. Neither of which is she willing to risk squeezing too hard.

Tossing her a I’m fine, the baby’s fine look, she finally heaves a relieved sigh just as Dante barks out a robust laugh.

“She’s got your number, man.” Dante spins Stefano around. “Lord knows a good suit is all it takes with you.”

With them deep in suits and T-shirt conversation, I quickly hand over the wine bag we brought for Morgan’s inspection. Like a seasoned sleuth, she waits for them to be out of earshot before she pries back the sides of the gift bag.

“Well?” I whisper, feeling like I’ve gone from secret lover to secret agent.

A smile stretches her red lips as she peeks inside at the small stuffed toy crushed discreetly underneath the Cabernet bottle.

“This is perfect!” The inflection in her voice rises unnaturally.

Joy wells up in my heart.

I’m a trail mix of nerves and emotions. “How do you think he’s going to react?”

Morgan pulls me, gently, into another hug.

“Do you know how long he’s waited for this?”

I nod, clinging to her words for reassurance as we enter the house and weave through the foyer to the living room. Sure enough, the coffee table is set with four steaming plates heaped high with salad, grilled chicken, and halved corn cobs, waiting for us.

“You laugh, but…” Stefano is beaming at Dante “…a tailored suit is life-changing.”

“I believe you believe that, too.” Dante’s shoulders tremble with laughter as he catches sight us rejoining them. Without missing a beat, he hooks his arm over Stefano’s shoulder, and congratulates me on freeing his brother from yet another stiff suit. “Look at us. I’m telling you, I could get used to spending this much time with my older brother, laughing, talking, double-dating, making big plans…”

Dante locks his arm, giving Stefano a noogie.

They’re like teenagers engaged in brotherly rough-housing and joking about something as insignificant as corny custom T-shirts. Every inch of me loves how much things have changed in two months.

I almost feel bad how unaware they are that I’m about to rock his entire world.

Morgan clears her throats, snagging my attention.

Slyly, she taps her Apple watch, signaling that we need to get this show on the road.

Steadying my nerves for this riveting performance I’m about to give, I amp up my sigh for maximum effect. “Gosh, I’m so thirsty.”

The guys have fallen into a mix of laughter and whispers, probably about the bachelor paintball shindig, which, according to Morgan via Dante, no one will speak about. A fact that has clearly gotten under her skin despite our preordained agenda this evening.

Can’t fault her for her curiosity, though.

Since they’re hush-hush gossip precluded them from witnessing my thespian antics, Morgan shoots me another wide-eyed look, urging me to say my line again. This time, louder, and with more feeling, she pantomimes.

Bracing myself, I readjust my stance.

With a smidge more bass in my tone, I belt out, “Oh, my dear Lord, I’m parched. Do you have anything to drink?” The last part, I really stretch my voice across the room.

My handsome boyfriend’s gaze connects with mine.

“You feeling okay? Need some water?” he asks.

Stefano’s already backing toward the butler door between the dining room and the kitchen as I nod.

The plan is working.

Almost.

We need the room to ourselves for a couple minutes to set the stage.

She looks Dante dead in the eyes, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs before she lets out two grossly fake coughs.

I’ve got to bite my tongue to stifle my laugh.

“I guess I’ll just go grab you some water, too.”

Morgan smiles not-so-innocently.

The second they’re gone, she tugs me down onto the couch, positioning me just so.

“Okay, you sit here on the end,” she whispers.

At this point, I’m taking my orders from her.

Grabbing the wine bag, she sets the Cabernet on the table, and fishes out the small daisy plush toy. Gently, she slips it under the throw pillow beside me, careful not to press its button. Then, she breaks out into a silent happy dance.

In the kitchen, the guys’ whispers grow loud and intense.

She’s mid-bounce when the guys burst through the swinging door, glasses in hand, so she’s forced to mask her smile with another uninspired cough.

“Here, drink this.” Dante holds the water to her mouth, waiting as she tries to take a small sip.

Except, her lips are twitching from suppressing her laugh, so water sputters everywhere.

“Oh, babe…” Dante dutifully scans the couch for something to mop her spill, nearly grabbing “the” pillow.

“Whoa, there.” Stefano comes in clutching the napkin he’d wrapped around my glass, saving the day. He hands me the water. “Both of you all coughing. Could be something going around.”

Morgan starts cough-laughing again, her frantic gaze flickering not so subtly to Dante.

It’s a surefire shit or get off the pot if ever I’ve seen one.

I blink twice.

We’re barely holding it together, so when Stefano squeezes in next to me on the couch, sliding his hand into mine, it feels like my next cue.

My heart is beating a mile a minute.

“Stefano?”

With his thumb, he rubs circles in my palm, and suddenly, I can’t tell whether he’s the one who’s nervous or me.

“I was hoping—” I start to say but he interrupts me.

“Please let me go first.” Stefano fixes me with an intense stare.

It’s the desperation in his tone that reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart, though. Whatever he’s got to say, I can tell it’s got a hold on him.

“Okay.”

He sucks in a lungful of air.

His voice is low and measured as he says, “Something happened at the bachelor party, yesterday.”

“I knew it,” Morgan blurts out. Accusation laces her tone. Guilty of what, though? “Dante tells me everything, but he wouldn’t tell me what happened with y’all.”

I force a stilted smile, still unclear where Stefano is going with this conversation.

Short of naked strippers planted around a rustic dirt field, I’ve got no clue what could be noteworthy for eight guys shooting each other with high-speed paintballs. Stefano hadn’t mentioned anything to me.

I figured they went, they played, they got sappy over rounds of drinks. The bachelorette party wore me out, so I needed a recovery day, plus time with Ace. Nothing on the drive here, either.

My shoulders are up to my ears.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. I asked everyone not to speak about the bachelor party,” Stefano explains.

I dart an assessing gaze between Stefano and Dante then back to Morgan who looks like she’s still chewing on this version of what’s happening, and not the premeditated agenda I’m starting to suspect this is.

“But why?” Morgan asks, genuinely curious.

She reaches up to intertwine her fingers with Dante’s.

“I needed time to reach out to Mother and Chiara. Get my ducks in a row for tonight…”

Quietly observing, I take note of the way he keeps rubbing my palms, like he needs somewhere to place his energy. I notice Dante’s restlessness and unwavering focus.

“What do you mean, for tonight?” I ask.

“Avery, I don’t want to waste any more time. We’ve already lived and learned through our past marriages. Now, I’m in a relationship with an amazing, beautiful, kind and caring woman, who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I wanted everyone to know.”

Stefano slides off the edge of the couch, lowering himself onto his knees in front of me. The desperation on his handsome face heightens as he holds both of my hands.

I chew the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

“You said all of that?” My voices catches.

Stefano curves his hand to my cheek, and I can’t help leaning into his touch.

He smiles sweetly.

“You’d be so proud of me. I told my mother, my sister, plus all the guys at paintball.”

“The man was a lethal weapon out there, knocking ’em down and taking names,” Dante boasts. “Just ask Jameson.”

An emotion-choked laugh spills out of me. “What were you doing, shooting people, then pouring your heart out?”

“That’s about the size of it.” Dante laughs.

A few seconds pass as the silence thickens and Stefano’s expression grows serious.

“Avery, I need you to know that so many things in my life feel uncertain, but you are not one of them.” He drags the pad of his thumb over my lower lip before he kisses me softly. “For so long, I’d given up on my dream of love and a family. I figured it wasn’t in the cards for me.” He shrugs. “Now, I know I was waiting on you and Ace. I want you to be my family.”

Stefano’s voice wavers.

His piercing brown eyes water as he looks at me, “Avery. Pollyanna, my sunshine…”

Apparently, taking his cue, Dante retrieves a bouquet of daisies from behind the couch, and hands them over.

Morgan stares in open-mouthed shock at her sneaky fiancé as Stefano leans back and holds the flowers between us.

My heart stalls.

At the center of the bouquet is a beautiful solitary diamond ring, glinting off the warm light.

“Marry me.” It comes out on a breathless whisper. “Tear down every emotional and physical barrier with me, Avery Ellis. Make me the luckiest man alive by sharing a life and family with me. I’ll be the grumpy, silver fox with ‘Big Prick Energy’ to your Oopsie Daisy—”

“Oopsie baby.” I giggle.

He looks confused but he smiles anyway.

“Yes, that too, I guess. Just say yes.”

Tears are stream down my face, my throat constricts, and breathing no longer feels voluntary, but I stare at this devastatingly handsome man asking me to spend forever with him, and I’ve got zero doubts.

“I will.” His face lights up. Until I add, “If…”

Stefano huffs out a disbelieving laugh like he can’t fathom what condition I’d ever put on a second chance at happily-ever-after.

He throws his head back laughing.

“Okay, I’m listening. What more can I give you besides the world?”

Because this double date apparently specializes in secret agendas and world-upending romantic gestures, Morgan dramatically clears her throat. Not even bothering to hide her competitive side, she makes a huge production of fanning out her hands for me to drop the bomb on them.

As I slip my hand under the throw pillow and pull out the small daisy plush, the guys are genuinely baffled. For only a moment.

“What more can you give me, you ask…” In my palms, I peel back the white petals until a tiny baby doll wearing a yellow onesie with a daisy affixed to it appears, with a teensy greeting card. “You could give us your heart,” I say.

Opening the small card, I watch as he reads the inscription.

Oopsie daisy, here comes baby.

Stefano’s eyes snap to mine. “A baby?”

I nod, still holding my breath. I’m waiting for him to reassure me this is indeed celebratory news for him too.

“Holy shit, I love you so much.” He tosses the flowers and our plastic baby aside, rushing in to kiss me with his entire body. “You make me so happy.”

“Boom!” I hear Morgan clap her hands together, gloating to Dante, “That’s how it’s done.”

Favor returned.

Soon, though, our kiss grows urgent. In front of our plastic baby, and the bride and groom in over-the-top satiny pajamas, Stefano pulls me into his lap. My hands are in his silvery curls and his are on my face.

We are going to town, two seconds from saying screw it, and going all the way when Dante clears his throat.

We couldn’t care less about them seeing us kiss, though. If anything, we’re just returning the favor.

But Dante Fortemani is undeterred.

“Okay, but just so we’re clear…” Dante says loudly, laughing. “Are you sure you all want to rush in? Surely, you’d want to have a prolonged engagement. You need to take your time and learn each other.”

Stefano and I laugh into the kiss.

One way or another, I think we all knew Dante would find a way to throw Stefano’s words back at him.

“No? You don’t want to learn what’s important to you as individuals and as a couple?” Sarcasm floods his tone. “What a shame…”

Morgan is cackling, but Dante isn’t finished with us.

“Far be it from me to judge you, but…after only a few measly months?” He blows out a stressed breath. “I don’t know. Sounds risky. Maybe you two should consider the benefits of giving yourselves the necessary time to embrace your union.” He drags out the word.

We finally pull apart. Mostly, because we’re laughing so hard we can’t breathe, here at brotherly comedy hour.

Stefano is all beaming white smile as he gets a taste of his own medicine. His only option is to join him. “We’re in a relationship,” he says in a high-pitched, nasally tone, I’m guessing imitating Dante’s response in this hilarious quarrel rewind.

Dante shrugs. “Semantics.”

This time, I don’t mind eating my words.