Page 84 of The Wedding Crush
Her eyes have been glued to the road. Now, I feel the weight of her assessing gaze, as accusatory as her tone.
That wasn’t a question. It was ayou’re fooling no one, so you might as well tell me everythinglead into what she’s been itching to talk about all night. Rather,whoshe’s been itching to talk about.
I release a certified snort-laugh. “Why don’t you ask what you’re really asking me?”
“Mm-hmm. You’re fooling absolutely no one. Out there roaming the wilderness with the silver fox, that’s how you got sick.”
This time, I don’t even bother hiding my laughter.
I’m breathless and gasping for air, holding my stomach. “You are so wrong for that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
As if. The second I tell Monica, the Sister Circle group chat will be blowing up on my phone.
“What is wrong with you?” I giggle.
“Shoot, you already admitted y’all were crushing on each other.Hypothetically, I mean.” Monica rolls her eyes, grinning like she’s the freaking Cheshire cat.
“My lips are sealed.”
“Okay, you can pretend you’re not dying to tell us, but hear this…” She presses the button to roll up our windows. I’m guessing noise interference won’t fare well when we’re almost to my house and she wants every word to sink in.
I make a big production, twisting and angling myself to her.
“Girl, you know I live by my Weather app, right?” she reiterates.
“Oh, Lord. I’m dying to hear this.”
“A Saturday night. Two attractive, single adults, ‘allegedly’ curating a wine and catering menu. Chemistry, off the charts,” she editorializes. “I’d be willing to bet you carried yourself there, wearing next to nothing, and y’all were alone in that warm, dim, enclosed space of that winery when the rain started coming down. You and I both know you weren’t thinking about catching a little seasonal cold.”
I drop my face into my hands.
As if underscoring her comment, my phone pings, and I freeze guiltily.
It’s a catch-22.
Monica is watching. If I rush to check the message, she’ll have visual confirmation of just how hard I am, even for a sound bite of Stefano’s voice. From there, it’s a matter of minutes before she draws accurate conclusions about everything that’s happened since Il Sapore.
Now, I could come up with an elaborate excuse, but then I realize I’ve got one built in.
Ace is with Mommy. Maybe he’s already sleepy, which is totally plausible given she falls for his puppy-dog eyes and allows extra snacks and screen time.What kind of mother would I be if I missed a chance to tell him goodnight?
“Oop, close to bedtime!” I say, unnaturally loud. “This is probably Mommy letting me know Ace is off to bed early.”
Monica shoots me a sidelong glance.
As my phone illuminates at the bottom of my purse, I zero in on Stefano’s name with the tiny cactus emoji I assigned to his contact, and my heart warms.
How’s dinner with the circle going?
I’m grinning like a fool.
Quickly, I tap out a response letting him know we’ve had to cut the night short due to my cold.
“Mm-hmm.” Monica smirks. “Because bedtime texts always elicit swoons out of you…”
Sarcasm drips from her tone, and I don’t even have the sense to care because his follow-up text is loading.
