Page 112 of The Wedding Crush

“You should talk,” Stefano counters. “I feel like I should call you Hef with those pajamas. Did we miss the memo?”

“Ughdon’t mind those fools.” Morgan shakes her head and fixes her wide-eyed, conspiratorial stare on me. “What’s more important is I sure hope you brought yourappetite.” She winks.

“Girlll!” I let my head and shoulders slump with my exaggerated moan. “Is that even a real question?”

She laughs, pulling me up the last step into a full-body hug, then quickly withdrawing when she notices me wince.

“Relax.” A laugh rumbles out of me. The panic etched across her face is proof she’s got no clue whether it’s my breasts or my belly. Neither of which is she willing to risk squeezing too hard.

Tossing her aI’m fine, the baby’s finelook, she finally heaves a relieved sigh just as Dante barks out a robust laugh.

“She’s got your number, man.” Dante spins Stefano around. “Lord knows a good suit is all it takes with you.”

With them deep in suits and T-shirt conversation, I quickly hand over the wine bag we brought for Morgan’s inspection. Like a seasoned sleuth, she waits for them to be out of earshot before she pries back the sides of the gift bag.

“Well?” I whisper, feeling like I’ve gone from secret lover to secret agent.

A smile stretches her red lips as she peeks inside at the small stuffed toy crushed discreetly underneath the Cabernet bottle.

“This is perfect!” The inflection in her voice rises unnaturally.

Joy wells up in my heart.

I’m a trail mix of nerves and emotions. “How do you think he’s going to react?”

Morgan pulls me, gently, into another hug.

“Do you know how long he’s waited for this?”

I nod, clinging to her words for reassurance as we enter the house and weave through the foyer to the living room. Sure enough, the coffee table is set with four steaming plates heaped high with salad, grilled chicken, and halved corn cobs, waiting for us.

“You laugh, but…” Stefano is beaming at Dante “…a tailored suit is life-changing.”

“I believe you believe that, too.” Dante’s shoulders tremble with laughter as he catches sight us rejoining them. Without missing a beat, he hooks his arm over Stefano’s shoulder, and congratulates me on freeing his brother from yet another stiff suit. “Look at us. I’m telling you, I could get used to spending this much time with my older brother, laughing, talking, double-dating, making big plans…”

Dante locks his arm, giving Stefano a noogie.

They’re like teenagers engaged in brotherly rough-housing and joking about something as insignificant as corny custom T-shirts. Every inch of me loves how much things have changed in two months.

I almost feel bad how unaware they are that I’m about to rock his entire world.

Morgan clears her throats, snagging my attention.

Slyly, she taps her Apple watch, signaling that we need to get this show on the road.

Steadying my nerves for this riveting performance I’m about to give, I amp up my sigh for maximum effect. “Gosh, I’msothirsty.”

The guys have fallen into a mix of laughter and whispers, probably about the bachelor paintball shindig, which, according to Morgan via Dante, no one will speak about. A fact that has clearly gotten under her skin despite our preordained agenda this evening.

Can’t fault her for her curiosity, though.

Since they’re hush-hush gossip precluded them from witnessing my thespian antics, Morgan shoots me another wide-eyed look, urging me to say my line again. This time, louder, and with more feeling, she pantomimes.

Bracing myself, I readjust my stance.

With a smidge more bass in my tone, I belt out, “Oh, my dearLord, I’m parched. Do you haveanythingto drink?” The last part, I really stretch my voice across the room.

My handsome boyfriend’s gaze connects with mine.

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