Page 56 of The Wedding Crush

“So, you carried bags?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

“Look, I did my good deed for the day. Can you say the same?”

He brushes his gaze down over my black Vans and leggings, before he registers the oversized grayDream Teamshirt I made.

“Is that—”

“A custom shirt I designed special for this occasion?” I nod, eagerly reaching into my purse. “And did I make a matching one for you? Why yes. Yes, I did.”

“Oh, well in that case.” Stefano chuckles.

“Morgan and I were at the jeweler picking out Dante’s ring on Tuesday. She did a great job, by the way. And anyway, I got to thinking about dancing today, and I wasn’t sure you owned anything other than suits, so…”

He barks out a deep, throaty laugh.

Taking hisDream Teamshirt by the collar, I flounce it out, then flip it over. “And that’s not all…” I say, tickled as he reads the bold black writing sprawled across the back.

I don’t always wear suits but when I…wait…yes Ido.

He snickers.

“Well, this didn’t hold up.”

“Don’t feel bad,” I say, angling my back to him so he can read mine.

I don’t always haul around a giant pink planner bible but when I…wait…yes, Ido.

Stefano tucks his lips between his teeth and nods.

I laugh.

“Okay, I don’t actually have it with me either, but the thought was there.” I playfully swat his arm. “Look, if you’re not nice to me as a first-time guest, I’m not going to give you the other gift I brought for you.”

He covers his heart with his hand. “So there really is more.”

“And not just a dope wedding-themed playlist…”

On the TV someone hits a home run, and the commentator yells, “Let’s go! This ain’t Denny’s but that’s aGRAND SLAM!”

The crowd goes wild with cheers.

We stare a beat too long.

Thankfully, Stefano breaks eye contact first. Every inch of my body is tingling as I follow him away from the foyer, bickering about the benefits of a deejay versus the orchestra as we enter the spacious chef’s kitchen where we double-team unloading the grocery bags. Which, funny enough, includes vegetable and deli platters, a party sub, two king-size Snickers, and about five drink options.

“I didn’t know what you might be hungry for,” he says.

All at once, I realize this large order isn’t his norm.

My heart rams against my ribs.

“You ordered all of this for me?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Figured the least I could do is feed you if you’re coming here with music, moves, and customDream Teamshirts.”

The moment feels light as a rock.

“All right, then.” I peel off the plastic film on the veggie platter, dip a celery stick in the ranch dressing, and stick it in my mouth. “Grab your dancing shoes, point me to the Bluetooth handle for your speaker, and let’s pick a song.”

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