Page 102 of The Wedding Crush

“And again”—Seneca starts in on me—“you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Immediately, my mind veers and hooks a hard left into Stefano territory. Without sharing everything about our relationship and the baby with my girls, I feel like history is…not repeating itself, but bordering on it, for sure.

I’m doing it all on my own again.

It’s losing Justin. It’s me and Ace against the world. It’s—

“All right, that’s it.” Seneca snaps her fingers and slices her hand through the air, cutting my internal spiral short.

Everyone, including our beautiful, half-naked army stands at attention.

She is our completely sensible, logic and straight-shooting line of symmetry, so I’m not surprised when she cuts straight through the mounting emotions in this room.

“Listen, Will got on my last nerve today, so I really,reallywant to fill my eyes with these oily pectorals while doing Beyoncé-oke.” Her slicked dark long ponytail whips around as she pivots to me. “Trust me when I say, the Queen is not a good mix with salty tears, so I’m giving you fifteen minutes.”

Dang.

I almost laugh out loud, looking at Morgan try, and fail, to stifle hers.

“Like, with a timer?” Morgan sputters as she flits an accusatory glance at me.

I shrug because timers are great order restoration tools. More people should use them.

But Seneca is so serious.

She flips her dainty wrist, all business now. “Let’s see, it’s six forty-four. In one minute, you start, and we’ve got until seven o’clock.”Period.

But the jokester in me can’t resist.

“Or else?” I challenge, stupidly.

Ready as ever for my games, she retorts, “I’m sending you home in the party bus with that germy pole, and we’re going to have all the fun without you.”

Double dang.

My mouth falls open with a sharp intake of air. “You wouldn’t!”

“She would,” the rest of my Sister Circle says in unison.

I huff out a resigned sigh.

Then, I throw up my hands. “I guess we’re doing this.”

Satisfied with my answer, Seneca quickly lays out the logistics for me. Which I secretly love. Nothing like order and structure.

“This is how it’s going to work,” she says. Then she takes the next thirty seconds to efficiently inform me that I’ll be temporarily dethroning our model from his pedestal. At which point, my girls will fire off questions, which I’m obligated to answer honestly. If they believe I’m lying, they’ve got the right to confer with other sources (i.e., all Fortemani family members, winery employees, wedding party members, Stefano’s best friend, Dylan, Mommy, and Ace).

Shoot.

“Okay, wow. No pressure,” I say, begrudgingly accepting her conditions.

Although, if I’m honest, it’s almost a relief. Finally, they’ll know. Even if this thing with Stefano doesn’t turn out to be my second chance at a fairy tale—for me, and not his ex—I won’t be alone.

“Everyone ready?” Seneca settles her attention on me. Then, surprisingly, at Chiara.

What was that?

Morgan bounces on her toes, clapping.

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