Page 45 of The Wedding Crush

“Our girl is making it official…” Seneca belts out, dropping her hips and swaying with her glass lifted in the air.

“I know you all better bring this much energy for your pairs entrance dances at the ceremony,” Morgan says.

I’m just about to join them when my phone pings somewhere at the bottom of my purse.

“Oh, you know, Marcello and I are coming with the fire.” Monica sips her champagne.

I laugh as I rummage around the bottom of my bag, weaving my hand past my computer, my fix-it kit, keys, and planner bible.

“Where is it?” I grumble.

Not to be one-upped by Monica, Seneca adds, “Hey, I don’t know what Dante’s friend Mike is working with, but best believe, I will be spinning circles around y’all, so…”

“Jameson and I have known each other since we were kids,” Chiara boasts. “We lived for every slide, two-step, and shuffle.”

I’m over here cackling when Valerie, who couldn’t care less about competitive pairs dances because all she wants to know is if Dante’s other groomsmen and college friend, Everett, is single.

Briefly, I wonder what kind of music Stefano likes.

What if he can’t dance?What if he can?

Every nerve ending on my body stirs and tingles.

Shaking my thoughts loose, I remember closing my phone inside the pages of my planner after I’d texted Stefano. Finally, spotting it, I slip it free.

On the screen, there’s a notification from Stefano, but before I get a glimpse, Chiara dances over to me.

“Come groove with us.” She pulls me to my feet, bumping her hip against mine. “Victoria made lunch reservations at one of their local restaurants, Bramoso. She said they’ve got these white truffles to die for.”

“I was just texting your brother to see about postponing our meeting for a few hours.”

“Oh, that’s right. Stef is yourvineyard liaison.” She rolls her eyes and laugh. “The dream team can wait until we feast on fabulous Italian.”

I glance at my phone, lifting my chin to the screen to unlock it. It opens on Stefano’s last message.

Don’t worry about it. Enjoy yourself. We can meet tomorrow.

“See, no big deal.” Chiara’s shoulders lift and fall. “Now, come dance, be happy, drink champagne, and cry ugly tears with us.”

A hardness settles in my gut.

Why did I say anything? It would’ve been rushed, but I could’ve made the appointment.

I smile nervously at Chiara, before I focus on his text again, ignoring the disappointment sagging through me.

“Give me one sec to reschedule,” I say.

As Chiara shrugs and rejoins the group, I tap out a quick response.

It’s really no problem. Late meetings are a regular thing for me.

My fingers are on the keys when the three tiny ellipses pop up. He’s sending another message, so I erase my rambling apology, and wait.

Unfortunately, I’ve got other plans this evening, but let’s follow up tomorrow. Have a great time.

A heaviness weighs down my body as I tuck my phone away and try to perk up to join my friends.

Chiara tips her chin to me. “All good?”

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