Chapter 19
AYLA
Not gonna lie, I love the way Carson looks at me. The way he whispers to me. The way he touches me with small caresses and gentle pets.
But this isn’t real.
It feels so real, though. Because we’ve been here before. Because this is what we were like. Before.
We can’t go back. But could we go forward… together?
Our eyes meet. And hold. And it’s heavy and honest and steadfast. The room fades around us as Carson reaches out and takes my hand. I curl my fingers around his and he rests our hands on his thigh. An immense feeling of urgency and regret and longing swells inside me. My heart beats in heavy thuds.
He leans closer. “How fast can we get out of here?”
“We can’t.”
“Damn. I was afraid of that.”
We share a resigned look.
Everything is going to plan.
Except for things with Carson.
I sure as hell didn’t plan to end up sleeping with him again.
I keep thinking about Tessa’s words and how this is a huge mistake.
But I’m also trying not to beat myself up over it.
She did also say to be kind to myself. I’m set on not thinking about what’s going to happen after tonight.
Or tomorrow, when Carson and I go home. To separate homes.
I’m terrified to even consider the possibilities of what could happen, terrified to hope that this could mean something important for us because I’ll be shattered—again—if that doesn’t happen. So I don’t consider the possibilities.
Luckily, the party mostly consumes my attention, but it’s hard not to be aware of Carson, looking so handsome in his tuxedo, at my side with gentle touches on my back, smiling at me with what appears to be adoration even though I know it’s an act. He doesn’t adore me any more.
But it felt a lot like that last night, with his dirty words and erotic touches. The way he worshiped my body and praised me and made me come…
I get all warm and molten inside just thinking about the things we did. Whew.
Before dinner, the photographer I hired gets us all arranged against one wall of balloons for the family photo. This is a challenge, mostly due to the children, but also due to Emilio being too drunk to stand up straight. I’m getting a little worried about him.
“Do you want me in the photo?” Carson asks in a low voice. “I mean…”
I purse my lips. I know what he means. But how can we leave him out? “Of course. Come on.”
I manage to converse with everyone during dinner.
The food is good: bruschetta, orecchiette with broccoli rabe, and a main course of roast beef.
The wine is flowing, the kids are running around screaming long before the adults have finished eating, and there’s a hum of chatter in the room punctuated with bursts of laughter.
We’re going to play the slide show I made of all the family photos after the birthday cake has been served, which will be later. Right now, we’re getting the dancing music going.
The first few songs are up tempo, and my cousins pile onto the dance floor. The little kids do, too, with wild moves that make us laugh. Carson isn’t much of a dancer but he’s coordinated and athletic and he can move a little. He joins me on the dance floor, amused at the kids, smiling at me.
Then the music changes to a slower song, a country song. My eyes meet Carson’s and we move together in a movement so familiar, hands clasping, his other hand on my lower back, mine on his shoulder.
I try to keep some space between us, but he pulls my hand to his chest and presses me closer with his hand on my back. His big thigh is between my legs as we sway to the music.
“You’re dancing too close,” I murmur.
“No, I’m not.” He holds my gaze.
Okay, then.
The lyrics to the song catch my attention: the man singing, “I’ll love you better.” I pay more attention, and my heart starts to swell and ache at the story he’s telling: how he misses her, how he’ll love her better if he gets a chance.
Oh God. I want Carson to say those things. That he misses me. That he loves me. That he’ll love me better.
My eyes sting and pressure builds behind my cheekbones.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.” I blink back the tears, determined not to get all emotional in front of him.
This is why you shouldn’t sleep with your ex. Feelings get all stirred up. Feelings I shouldn’t be having.
He holds out his left hand and I do the walk under his hand and around, and then I’m pressed against him again and we sway. We know the moves without even thinking about them.
When the song ends, I say, “I need a drink.”
We move off the dance floor as Sabrina Carpenter starts singing.
“Yeah. Good idea. What was in that purple cocktail?”
“Vodka, blue curacao, and cranberry juice.”
“Ah. Another one of those?”
“If there’s any left. I ordered enough for one each, but maybe not everyone had one.”
The bartender does mix up one of those for me and I take one more for Nonna. We head over to her table.
“Thank you!” She beams at me when I set the drink in front of her. “This purple cocktail is delicious!”
“Good.” I smile, glad that I made her happy.
The song changes to an oldie: Frank Sinatra.
“Oh, I love this song,” Nonna says. “Nuncio and I used to dance to it.”
“Gia, would you do the honor of dancing with me?” Carson holds out his hand.
She blushes! “I’d love to.”
He helps her stand and slows his pace to lead her to the dance floor. She uses a walker most of the time, but with Carson to hold onto, she’s fine. I watch them dance, my heart pumping in big, throbbing beats. This is so sweet of him.
Throughout the evening, when we’re not together, I watch Carson. He holds baby Marco so Ashley and Blake can dance, and he seems fine with it. He dances with little Polly, so cute. He fetches drinks for my aunties. He’s charming everyone—laughing, dancing, being the life of the party.
This isn’t an act. This is him.
My Aunt Melissa comes up to me, seeing me watch him. “You are so lucky. He’s such a catch.”
I want to cry again. “Yes. He is.”
I “caught” him. But I lost him.
I need a moment, so I head to the ladies’ room to freshen up.
Rachel’s there.
“Hey,” she says. “This is going great.”
“This? As in the party?”
“Yes. What… Hey, are you okay?” She faces me, a notch between her eyebrows.
“I’m not sure.” I sigh. I haven’t told her about the sexy bedroom shenanigans Carson and I have been up to. She suggested this crazy idea, but she’s obviously not in favor of me and Carson being together again for real. “I’m just feeling… stuff.”
“About Carson.”
“Yeah.” I touch a finger to the corner of one eye to erase a tiny mascara smudge.
“You’re totally pulling it off.”
“I guess so.” I make a face. “Emilio told us he heard we got divorced.”
“Emilio? What? He didn’t hear it from me.”
“I don’t know who he heard it from, but it was weird.” I shrug. “Anyway. Just a few more hours to get through! Everyone’s leaving in the morning.”
“You can do it.”
I’m not so sure but I stick a pleasant expression on my face and we go back out to the party.
It’s time for the cake and the slide show. I’m excited about the video I made. I think everyone is going to love it.
I move to where my laptop is set up to get it ready while resort staff roll the cake out from the kitchen on a trolley.
Two of them lift the huge cake from the trolley to carry it to the table where Nonna is seated.
I hear the yelling before I turn to see Harvey (my cousin Clark’s son), Tripp, and Knox come racing through in some type of game.
I watch in horror as Tripp crashes into the cake, knocking it out of the waitstaff’s hands, sending it to the floor where Tripp lands on top of it.
The room goes silent. The music stops.
The other two kids screech to a halt and stare in dismay.
I cover my face with my hands, screaming silently inside.
“Oh my God,” people are saying.
Emilio and Lyla, Tripp’s parents, jump up and run to the kids. “Tripp! What are you doing?” They’re followed by Clark and his wife, Hannah.
Harvey bursts into tears, and when Emilio hauls Tripp up out of the cream cheese frosting, Tripp is bawling, too. Knox’s bottom lip quivers.
I drop my hands in consternation. “Is he hurt?” I too rush over there. “Are you okay, Tripp?”
He just cries harder.
I crouch down in front of him. He’s impressively frosted with mauve and purple icing. “Are you hurt, buddy?”
His face red, he shakes his head, howls, and grabs his mom’s legs, pushing his face into the skirt of her dress, smearing the black velvet with cream cheese and sugar.
I press my hand to my throat.
“You are in so much trouble,” Lyla hisses to him. “You, too, Knox.”
Now the tears slide down Knox’s face.
My heart is breaking for the kids who were just having fun, now seeing the consequences of their actions. And I can’t believe Nonna’s favorite Italian cream cake, that was made by her favorite bakery and brought all the way from New York City, is destroyed.
I look over at her as I stand. “I’m so sorry.”
She shakes her head, her smile crooked. “Shit happens.”
Harvey’s little sister Polly has planted her butt on the carpeted floor next to the cake and is scooping up cake and frosting into her mouth.
“Polly!” Hannah swoops and grabs her daughter. “You can’t eat that off the floor!”
“Nooooo.” Polly arches in her mom’s arms. “I want cake!”
“Polly! Quiet. We can’t eat that cake.”
“I WANT CAKE!” She’s flailing now in a full-blown tantrum. “WANT CAKE!”
“What were you boys doing?” Lyla demands.
“W-we were j-just playing,” Tripp sobs. “I didn’t s-see the cake.”
“It was an accident,” I tell him.
“Now Nonna has no birthday cake!” Knox wails.
“I wanted birthday cake!” Harvey sobs.
“Me, too!” Polly cries.
“Me, too,” I mutter. Now what am I supposed to do?
As the parents lead the kids away to clean them up and probably scold them more, I, too, want to cry. I stare at the wrecked cake.
I know it was an accident. The kids weren’t really misbehaving.
They were just having fun, dancing and running around.
There were other hazards that could have caused even worse accidents: servers bringing coffee and tea, carrying trays of dishes and glassware, and my laptop hooked up to the projector for the slide show.
I don’t want to pin blame, but maybe their parents could have supervised their children a little better?
Maybe I should have supervised the children a little better.
Shit.
Carson appears at my side, sliding an arm around my waist. “Well. That happened.”
I turn my eyes up to him. “Yeah. And Nonna has no cake.”
“Let’s go talk to Norm.”
I blink, letting him take my hand and lead me across the room.
We find Norm in the kitchen where his staff have told him about the cake tragedy and are going to clean it up.
“I am so sorry,” he says immediately to us.
“Oh no! It wasn’t the resort’s fault at all! We had a few kids running wild. I apologize for that.”
“What can you do for some kind of quick dessert?” Carson asks him, reining in his usual scowl for Norm. “I know it’s really last minute, but even if we just got something for our birthday girl, that would be much appreciated.”
Norm nods. “Let me see what I can do.”
“Thanks, man.”
Carson and I leave the kitchen and pause outside the doors. He looks at me and heaves a dramatic sigh. “I was really looking forward to that cake, but I guess I can survive without dessert.”
He’s teasing, his eyes glinting.
“My beautiful party is ruined.”
“Ahh, no.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, cupping the back of my head. “It’s not ruined. Everyone’s here, everyone’s fine. It’s not the end of the world.”
I press my face to his chest. “I worked so hard to make everything perfect.”
“I know you did.” He rubs my back. “And it’s been amazing. You planned so much. There was bound to be something that went wrong. At least nobody broke a leg on the tube runs. Or drowned in the pool.”
I choke on a laugh. “Okay, that would be worse, yes.”
The music is quieter, more background music than dance music, and the crowd has thinned out now.
I guess the parents have taken the kids back to their cottages.
Even some of the aunts and uncles have left, probably assuming there’s no dessert.
But there’s still my slide show. I feel my mouth sinking into a sad bow.
Nobody’s here to see it and I worked so hard on it.
Oh well.
I definitely need another drink. This time, I go for a shot of whiskey and I stand at the bar to drink it, looking around.
Carson’s gone, too. What? Why did he leave?
Now I really want to cry. I toss back another gulp of my drink.
Is this how the party is going to end?
My throat tight, I swallow more whiskey, trying to talk myself out of my sadness and disappointment. What a fiasco.
Some day, the family will laugh about it. This is not that day.
Then Grandma and Grandpa walk back in. Followed by Aunt Francesca and Uncle Brian. And more. My eyes widen. Everyone’s coming back.
The cake has been cleaned up and servers are bringing out plates with some kind of dessert, I think?
I move toward the tables, and stop next to Nonna. “Dessert?”
“Yes!”
It’s waffles, made into ice cream sandwiches and topped with strawberries and whipped cream. It’s not Italian cream cake from Vincenzo’s Pasticceria, but it looks delicious.
I watch everyone take seats again.
I can do my video.
Then Carson walks back in, tall and broad in his tuxedo jacket. His eyes immediately find me across the room. He smiles.
I give him a shaky smile back then walk over to my computer. I was almost ready to go when the cake debacle happened. I move over to Grandpa. “I’m going to do the slide show,” I say to him. “Can you do the intro like we planned?”
“Of course!” He jumps up, a little whipped cream in his mustache.
I grab a napkin and dab it away.