Page 104 of The Wedding Crush

“No, it wasn’t.” I meet her intense stare. “Before you and Dante joined the meeting, I’d told him I wanted to tell everyone about us.”

“Tell us what about you?” Chiara presses.

Pulling in a deep breath, I blurt out, “That we’re dating.”

“As in girlfriend, boyfriend.” Morgan’s smile deepens. She nods like she’s connecting the dots. “Y’all are official, aren’t you?” When I nod, she speculates for how long. “Since the movie at the vineyard, right?”

Wait.

I scan the room, taking in the elaborate change of plans. We’re all here, and no one is in rush to celebrate Morgan. No one was surprised because we’re all immersed in my…

Quiet drama.

This isn’t a surprise to them, it’s an ambush.

“How did you know?” I ask, suspiciously, sneaking a slice of brie and a grape off my assigned tray, popping them into my mouth.

I’m met with fiveare you seriously asking thatexpressions.

“Ma’am, you and Stefano Fortemani could barely stand to be around each for five minutes at the engagement party.” Seneca giggles. “Then he brushed you off after dress shopping, and suddenly every time you’re together, you’re disappearing for thirty, forty minutes at a time.”

Valerie laughs.“Right?”

“It’s been obvious for a while,” Monica says, quietly, but everyone pivots to her. This is her MO. She lets everyone else say their piece, then out of left field, boom! Tough love.

She steps back and folds her arms across her chest, and I sense the sharp turn ahead.

“Here’s what’s still confusing me.” She pins me with a no-nonsense stare as she commandeers the conversation. “We all knew or suspected as much, but why would he want to keep it on the down-low?”

It’s a loaded question.

By the time I bring them up to speed on Stefano’s many reasons, including competing with his ex-wife’s relationship—I leave out her impending motherhood—they’re all on my side.

“At least his intentions seem to be in the right place, though,” Morgan reasons.

I fidget with my cuticles.

“So, yeah. I’m a secret until your wedding,” I say, nonchalantly, knowing full well Monica isn’t done with me.

True to her character, she drops the hammer. “Is that the only secret you’ve been withholding?”

This is it.

I flit another glance at Chiara, my eyes already threatening tears.

“Can we just sing Beyoncé songs and draw hideous pictures of this beautiful man?” My voice wavers. I’m deflecting and everyone knows it. “Don’t you think I’ve hijacked enough of Morgan’s party? We’ve got Chef Rossi waiting, these gorgeous men are wasting away, the paint is drying—”

“The wine needs tasting…” Monica adds.

One of the soldiers snickers.

“A minute left,” Seneca asserts, very timely, kicking Monica into overdrive.

“How’ve you been feeling?” She raises an eyebrow. “Was it food poisoning, dairy intolerance, or…” Monica lets the rest of that question hang in the electric air.

As if just catching on, Valerie gasps. “Oh my God.”

Morgan and Seneca share a charged glance, and everything feels like it’s coming to a head.

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