Page 10 of The Wedding Crush

But I’m still hoping he’ll listen. “My point is, you’re thirty-nine. You haven’t been trained yet to put things back in the fridge or dishes in the sink. You still leave wet towels on the floor.” I huff out a laugh. “Do you even know you’re not supposed to use her decorative hand towels?”

Marco shakes his head like this is Marriage 101.

“And he thinks he’s ready for marriage.” I pull in a lungful of air. “Yeah, okay. Like I said, it’s too soon.”

“Is it?” Marco chimes in again, seemingly realizing he’s on the wrong side of his friendship.

I shoot him a warning stare, but Marco’s comment feels like the fuel Dante was waiting on.

“Listen, I get that must be hard after Carina but please don’t be that guy right now.” Dante pulls in a long breath through his nose and slowly releases it through his mouth. He tilts his head to me without looking head-on. “I’m telling you I’m in love and about to make the biggest decision of my life.”

“Think, Dante.”

“Jesus, I don’t want to think anymore. I’ve waited my whole life to feel this. My mind is made up.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, annoyed that he won’t listen to reason.

My brother, better than most, knows heartbreak—familial and romantic. We both know. When it comes to love, though, he’s never experienced the kind you can’t walk away from clean. He’s never felt, touched, given so deeply that love overflowed into a tiny soul whose unborn fingers held the key to life, only to watch it slip away.

It’s taken me over a decade to realize Carina’s and my dream should’ve started with us.

“So, tell me again why I’m here if you already made your decision.” My voice hardens.

“I don’t have Dad or Nono. All I have is my stubborn, overly cautious older brother. I need your support,” he says. “You’re here because I want your goddamn blessing, you asshole.” He laughs a defeated laugh.

Deep down, I want to ask why my marriage wasn’t enough of a cautionary tale. How he could watch the years turn me into a shell of my old self, yet he’s volunteering for the same torture.

Doesn’t he get that whirlwind romances are just seeds? Love is a gradual process, not an instant one. You’ve still got to tend to the vines, water and harvest the best grapes. The crushing, pressure, and fermentation, that’s where the real magic happens. When you dare to let them mature, that’s when you really know what you’re working with.

Love means taking your time.

Even still, it doesn’t come with guarantees.

I flash him a tentative smile, though.

Above all, we’re Fortemanis and brothers.

We stand together, always.

“Of course you’ve got my support.”

He tugs me into a hug, thanking me. “I’ll take it,” he says as Marco joins in with a raucous laugh that gains us an audience.

Slowly, we pull apart to the tune of collective applause.

Then, like it was all the fuel he needed, Dante steps back and straightens his tie. “Wish me luck,” he tosses back, goofy grin in place as he rounds the buffet, moving toward the table with onlookers beaming back at him, ready for the show.

In an impressively smooth move, he swipes Marcello’s empty water glass and spoon, halting the party. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming out today to celebrate Mom’s sixty-fifth birthday—”

“Darling, hush,” Mother interrupts him, feigning shock. “I don’t know why people keep saying that. I’m sixty-five yearsyoung.”

Another wave of laughter falls over the table.

“You don’t look a day over thirty-five, Mom,” Chiara adds, doing a great job of ensuring everyone’s spirits are lifted for what’s next.

“Victoria Fortemani, ladies and gentlemen.” Dante heads off the applause. “Are you enjoying your big day?”

“Immensely, my darling,” she replies, her eyes sparkling the way they always do when she’s the center of attention.

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