9. Chapter 9
Avery
I can definitively say this is the first time I’ve crashed a wedding.
Well, in this case a wedding reception .
Even in my wilder days, I was more of an adventurer than a disruptor, and despite hearing a lot about Riccardo over the last few days, I have no idea if he’ll be cool with me showing up to his party.
But tonight’s my last night with Benson, and I don’t want to waste it.
The last three days—and the two before it—were pure magic.
True to his word, Benson was clear about his intentions, and while he quickly fell back into the physical contact we shared during our first two days in the city, he hasn’t come anywhere close to kissing me. I’m both relieved and disappointed.
Relieved because I don’t know how good I can be with casual kissing. Disappointed because I’m pretty sure Benson would kiss the same way he does everything else—with confidence and skill.
Strapping on my sandals, I move to the little vanity in my room and take in my appearance.
I haven’t worn makeup most of the week, choosing instead to be as natural and free as I can be.
Tonight, I’ve put on some mascara and a bit of blush, but other than that I’m sticking with the status quo.
Benson likes how I look when I don’t put in a lot of effort.
Like a couple of days ago, when I showed up in the lobby in a sundress and strappy sandals, my hair in loose waves down my back and not a bit of makeup on, he stumbled over his words as he said I looked like I belonged in Florence.
And this dress! It’s one I bought for my wedding-crashing, and I’m proud of myself for choosing a vibrant green rather than sticking with the more muted colors that I’ve grown used to with my business attire.
Snapping a quick mirror selfie, I send it to our cousins group chat—a chat I have been severely neglecting—but I need to hurry if I want to get to the reception in time to steal some cake.
And by ‘cake’ I mean ‘a dance with the most attractive man in the universe.’
Benson tried to get me to come to the wedding in its entirety, but that was a line I wouldn’t cross.
He convinced me to slip into the reception if nothing else, and when the wedding is over we’ll go out to one of the squares and listen to the street musicians again.
I haven’t seen him at all today because of the ceremony, and I’m buzzing with anticipation.
A girl doesn’t go five straight days with Benson as a constant companion without getting attached to his easy charm and broad smiles.
Tonight will be one last hurrah before I go back to reality in the morning.
My phone buzzes twice right as I reach my door, and I pause to see the response to the photo. One is from a younger cousin, Lucy, while the other is from Dani.
Lucy:
That color is SO pretty on you!
Dani:
Oo! Look at that gorgeous dress. Looks like things are going well with Mr. Sexy-Benson.
Oh crap. I should have known Dani would bring up Benson, and I am so not prepared for my cousins to learn about my Italian fling. Unfortunately for me, the group chat is thriving today.
Sadie:
Who is this smokin’ Avery and how do we get her to stay??? And who is Mr. Sexy Benson??? Details. Now.
Now I really don’t want to go home.
Though the texts keep coming, I tuck my phone into my purse and head downstairs, my nerves growing with each step.
I’m really doing this. Wandering into a wedding where I’ve only met one of the groomsmen whose last name I don’t know.
I still don’t know any details about Benson, like his occupation or his family or where he lives.
I don’t know what foods he likes or what his hobbies are.
I just know he’s easier to talk to than anyone I’ve ever met, and he makes me feel powerful and beautiful and brave.
Riccardo rented out the back terrace of the hotel for the wedding, and the reception is in full swing when I arrive.
A string octet plays classical music in one corner while beautiful people in beautiful clothing linger around the candlelit space.
I’ve been out here multiple times for various meals, but I’ve never noticed the floral smell permeating the space.
Probably because I’ve only ever been back here with Benson, and he has his own delicious smell.
The scent of the bouquets on the tables and hanging from the balconies along the sides of the terrace, mixed with whatever they served for dinner tonight, is intoxicating, and I feel like I’m living in a movie.
“You’re Avery, right?” a soft voice says beside me.
I turn and gasp at the sight of the bride in her elegant A-line gown. She’s absolutely gorgeous. “Um, yeah. Yes. I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t technically invited, but—”
“No, we’re thrilled you’re here,” a man says as he joins the bride, tucking an arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Benson has been a total downer all day, moping around because he had to wait to hang out with you. I’m Riccardo.
” He holds out his hand, which I take with trembling fingers.
I don’t know if I’m embarrassed about being caught or nervous about the idea of Benson being as desperate to see me as I am to see him.
Being around him this week has started to feel as natural as breathing, and my morning felt…
empty. We haven’t talked about what will happen when I head to the airport tomorrow, and I’m not looking forward to it.
“Avery,” I say, forcing a smile. “You must be Siena. You look absolutely stunning.”
Siena smiles wide, leaning into her new husband. “Thank you. And Ricky’s not lying about Benson. It’s been a few years since he and Ricky worked together, but I’ve never seen him like this.”
Oh, it would be so easy to innocently ask what kind of work Benson does.
Benson hinted that Riccardo knows about the nature of our relationship, but Riccardo seems like the kind of guy who might enjoy spilling a few secrets.
Knowing Benson’s job might make it easier to find him.
Knowing his last name would be even better.
But guilt builds in my stomach before I open my mouth. I can’t ask Benson’s friends about him. If I want to know details like that, I need to ask him .
So I ask something less specific. “He’s a good guy, right? He’s not putting up a front for me?”
Riccardo and Siena both laugh. “I have no idea what he’s been like with you,” Riccardo says. “But he’s one of the best guys out there. He saved my bacon a few years back, and he’s been one of my best friends ever since. He’s loyal, no matter how much he pretends otherwise.”
It isn’t that Benson has come across as disloyal, but he certainly made it clear when he said he wasn’t the type to commit. That’s easy to believe; a guy like him would have been locked down long before now if he had any plans to settle down. It’s the one part of him I haven’t liked.
People make long distance work all the time. Why couldn’t we?
Because you’re barely two months off your engagement , I remind myself and fix my smile before it droops. “Well, he gave you a glowing recommendation,” I tell Riccardo, “so I’ll trust yours about him. Uh, where…?”
Siena points near the fountain. “I last saw him over there somewhere. He was texting someone.”
“Probably working,” Riccardo says with a roll of his eyes. “Avery, go save him from himself.”
Is Benson a workaholic? I try to imagine that as I pick my way through the throngs in the direction Siena pointed.
I haven’t seen him on his phone much at all, and most of the time when he is, he’s texting Dani.
Which is weird. But they’ve both told me they’ve barely talked about me and have been talking “business,” whatever that means.
I trust my sister, and she says she trusts Benson, so I’m choosing to be cool about their strange friendship.
So tonight Benson is either working or texting Dani, but either way, he’s not as desperate to find me as the newlyweds think.
“You look breathtakingly beautiful,” a smooth voice says behind me, stopping me in my tracks. “Please tell me you’re looking for me and not some Italian man to sweep you off your feet.”
Grinning, I spin to face Benson, exhaling shakily when I see the look on his face. He examines me with a slow, searching look, from my head to my toes and back up again before meeting my gaze.
“Breathtaking,” he repeats in a whisper and tucks some of my hair behind my ear.
He’s one to talk. I saw this man in a tailored suit the first time I met him, and that was wildly attractive. He’s been more casual throughout the week, wearing button-down shirts and chinos or fitted t-shirts and shorts. But Benson in a tuxedo? This man knows how to wear a tux.
Does anyone look bad in a tux? Probably not. But Benson has the height and the bulk and the jaw and the eyes and…where was I going with this?
A chuckle rumbles through him, and he reaches out and laces his fingers with mine, pulling me closer until we’re swaying to the music. “How was your day?”
“I rescheduled that tour of the Galleria dell’Accademia so I could see the David statue.”
“And?”
“I was so bored.” I bury my face in his chest in my embarrassment. “I mean, the statue was cool, but I feel like I already saw it because of that replica in the Palazzo Vecchio we saw two days ago.”
Benson tucks his arm around my back, holding me tight against his body. “What else did you do?”
I love so much that he’s asking. Even more that he seems to genuinely want the answer. “I bought a bracelet at that jewelry shop we’ve passed by a few times.”
He lifts our clasped hands to study the gold chain on my wrist. “It’s nice. But it’s not the one you were looking at.”