Page 5 of The Wedding Crush

The mild irritation I felt seconds ago grows to full-blown annoyance.

“You think I don’t know it’s my mother’s birthday? I’m just curious, why do you think I was sitting in my car while my siblings help celebrate her big day?” I tap my fingers to my temples and explode them.

But Avery doesn’t respond to my gesture.

“That was a lot of words from you all at once,” she quips. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Just in case I need to spell it out for her, I lower my voice, my tone hard.

“Not that I owe you an explanation, but I was trying to spare her my mess. I figured if I stayed away long enough, maybe those vultures in there”—I fan my hand toward the Gossip Set in the tent—“would find something else to talk about other than my divorce or who the hell they can fix me up with now that my ex-wife apparently found herself a replacement.” I step back, fuming and needing air to breathe.

Why am I telling her all of this?

“That’s not what I meant,” she reasons, quietly.

I don’t know if it’s her soft tone or the fact that she seems so unaffected while I’m agitated, but it grates on my nerves.

“Well, what did you mean because obviously, I’m aware today can’t be about me.”

Like she senses I’m done, determination darkens Avery’s stare, and she erases the distance between us.

“I’m sure you look at me and think I’m some pushover you can control, Stefano Fortemani. But what you don’t know about me, is I don’t take shit. Not from anyone.” She stabs her bright pink fingernail into my chest, pausing for a beat. “Because you seem to have missed it, I was being empathetic to your situation, but I think you should be aware. The whole brooding, edgy silver-fox thing you’ve got going on, it comes off as cold and antisocial. Something else you might want to work on during your self-improvement journey along with all the sex and dating.” She snickers.

Thanks for that, Johnny.

My cheeks heat but I swallow, determined to hear her out.

“Now, what I meant was, they’ve all been waiting for your arrival to get started. And while this is your mother’s tea, it’s my event, representing a business that supports my livelihood, andpeopleI care about. I won’t have you ruin this.”

Everything around me muffles, and I feel like I’m wearing earplugs. We stare blankly, silently at an impasse, per usual, assessing each other.

“We’re in full agreement,” I finally say.

“Great. Then, do yourself a favor and smile, because your brother needs you.”

Then, just like that, she flashes me a tight smile and storms away, and I’m left standing on the outside with my head still spinning.

What was that? What did she mean, my brother needs me? Which brother, and what in the National Geographic is a silver fox?

CHAPTER TWO

Stefano

After Avery leaves,I spend another five minutes outside the tent unwinding myself from her Jedi mind tricks.

So, if I’m understanding her correctly, today isn’t about me, nor Mother…onherbirthday. No, in a plot twist that frankly, I’m still wrapping my mind around, it’s about one of my brothers who needs me. Which is why, the instant I walk inside, my plan is to pinpoint which brother, then get to the bottom of this elusive reason I’m needed. For now, though, I’m stuck on the Google results for “silver fox.”

An attractive older man with mostly gray or white hair, huh?

A lightness blooms in my chest.

I don’t know about the old part. Although, comparatively speaking, I’m guessing by her best friends’ median ages and the fact that she regularly finds a corner to sit and nurse her glass of wine, Avery is around Dante’s age, give or take. Easily, early to mid-thirties. In which case, I’ve likely got close to a decade on her.

That’s just math.

It’s the attractive part, though, that’s got me standing taller as I run my hand through my hair, draw my shoulders back, let my arms relax, and duck into the tent.

Surprisingly, a sense of calm settles over me when every pair of eyes in the room snaps to me.

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