Page 61 of The Wedding Crush

#Newlife #Comingsoon

My cheeks burn with humiliation as Avery stands beside me.

“Okay, it’s time for breakouts. You can stay here or go out to the main restaurant. Wherever you want but take your time. Ask the hard questions like what music do they like? What sort of person are they? Should you stare longingly into each other’s eyes as you sashay down the aisle?” She giggles. “Make it your own, but make it work!”

Panic rushes over me as the room stirs.

As soon as the others move to find a corner to talk, I scoot back my chair, nearly tipping it over.

“Is everything okay?” Avery’s attention flits to my phone.

My heart pounds in my ears.

I don’t have the resolve to quietly grin and bear it in front of a room full of people, though.

“Uh, I…I just need a minute,” I say, standing and rushing the door.

Hanging a left out of the private room, away from the restaurant’s main seating area, I hurry toward the employee exit at the end of the hall.

A manic energy races through me as I burst through the door into the alley.

My fingers twitch around the cool, tempered glass of my phone. Then I unlock the screen.

For so long, I stare at Carina’s photo.

It’s not that I’m jealous or that I want her back. This has nothing to do with her new relationship, or even, God willing, a baby. As much as it hurts feeling like my dream of love and family is out of reach, this right now, has everything to do with me.

Why haven’t I felt ready to move on?

Why have I been holding back like it’s too soon after the divorce?

Clearly, she’s got no qualms about it.

At the core, though, I hate not knowinghowto start over. There’s no book or instruction manual for this. I’m struggling just to kiss another woman, who’s gorgeous and fun-loving, and who clearly wanted me as much as I wanted her, and for what? Some arbitrary emotional hump that I need to get over? Because my ego is bruised by the optics?

I hold my breath.

Twelve years of marriage plus three more dating, now we’re divorced and she’s pregnant with another man’s child. Meanwhile, I’m putting in hours at the gym and the winery, living the only life I’ve known? Anticipating more disappointment when I find someone new?

“Dammit.”

My stare is fixed on my phone, preparing to block Carina, so I flinch when Avery barges through the door looking like a beautiful flame.

Fire burns in her blazing brown eyes. Her chest swells with steam as she grimaces, taking in the dark, narrow space, bricked in on either side of us.

Then her focus crashes onto me.

“Why are you like this, Stefano Fortemani?” She’s fuming mad, but her voice wavers.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“God, I don’t know why I even care.” She scoffs and flicks her gaze upward. “I guess, I just want to understand all the mixed signals. Obviously, you’re just regaining your footing after the divorce. That part, I get. But one second, we’re at each other’s throats nonstop, then you kissed me… I figured, even if it was baby steps then—”

I clear my throat.

I don’t want to invalidate her feelings, but I don’t want to hear the rest of that wholly untrue, conditional statement.

“Avery, this isn’t about you,” I say, sharply.

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