Page 17 of The Wedding Crush

“You sure about that part?” I question, laughing. “If you and Dante feel the need to get in some non-procreational, PG-13 practice, Ace is available all week for your pre-parenting pleasure.”

The traffic picks up to a slow crawl, and I weave into the right-hand lane, thanking my stars that I’m going to make it to Les Enfants on time, if we keep moving at this pace.

“I guess I should’ve said,eventually,” Morgan adds.

But leave it to Seneca the sensible, head so far away from the clouds, practical line of reason that she is, she cuts straight to the chase, circling back to the subject at hand.

“Um, ma’am…we’re going to need the long story long. You haven’t missed a Turn-Up Tuesday since…” She breaks off guiltily, unwilling to finish that sentence even though I know that everyone is silently filling in that blank space for her.

I haven’t missed our weekly get-together since my late husband, Justin, passed three years ago. He’s the one who said it was a tradition he could get behind because he loved when I came home to him hopped up on wine and horny for him.

Hey, if all I’ve got to do is hang out with my son for a few hours to get you worked up, that’s foreplay a man can’t buy.

A somber laugh tickles the back of my throat.

He made sure I got to be with my girls every Tuesday. Then, Mommy kept it going while he deployed. It was supposed to be his last tour and he was getting out since his contract was up. But he didn’t make it back, and my entire world shifted. Suddenly, I was a widow and single mom to a three-year-old, doing it all on my own. I couldn’t just hold it together for Ace. I was solely responsible for creating the joy-filled world I wanted him to live in—even on Tuesday nights.

Then my girls brought the circle to me.

“Granny’s gone and caught herself a stomach flu, so I’m inching my way to daycare to pick up Ace,” I explain.

They all hum their understanding.

“But there’s still a silver lining. I get to watch Disney movies with the cutest boy in town, so top that.”

In the background, Dante calls out, “Baby, fifteen minutes…” While none of us are sure what he’s referring to—the time before he leaves the house or how long to reheat a meal—it might as well be an alarm, clearing the room, because the Sister Circle is nothing if not assuming the dirtiest possibility.

“So, on that note…” Monica prefaces like we’re not all thinking Dante and Morgan are trying to squeeze in a quickie before the girls get there.

After their abrupt “See you in twenty,” to give the engaged lovebirds an extra ten minutes, Seneca, Monica, and Valerie rush off the phone.

I’m about a block from the daycare, prepared to end the call too, when Morgan asks me to wait.

“Give me two seconds,” she says.

Then, in the background, I hear her talking to Dante. He says something about the last inning then before the line grows muffled, and Morgan is back.

“Okay, so, it’s not what y’all were thinking with your gutter minds.” She laughs. “He’s in the kitchen, on the phone with his brother, talking about some baseball game they’re watching. Yet he insists he’s ready to walk out the door.”

“So, what’s up?” I ask, hating the fact that of everything she said, I’m immediately curious which brother Dante’s on the phone with.

“Oh, nothing crazy. I was just thinking… Since you can’t make it tonight, how about we have dinner here, Friday night? You call a sitter, I’ll grab a couple bottles of wine, we can watch that Tia Williams movie, and just chat about things.”

A giggle teeters on my tongue.

Chat about things (i.e. Gush about Dante and their impending nuptials).

At the rate this week is going…

“That sounds perfect, actually,” I say as I pull into the parking lot.

“Friday night, it is,” Morgan singsongs cheerily.

Except, as I reach for the dashboard display to end the call, I hear Dante whisper, “Did you tell her?” just as the line disconnects.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stefano

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