Page 86 of The Wedding Crush

Stretching across the island, Stefano drags the grocery tote toward us.

That’s when I notice his goofy grin.

“What?” I ask.

“So, I couldn’t spare my prickly cactus. It keeps me warm and safe at night, as one would expect from a plush toy picked out with so much thought, consideration, and care.”

I giggle. “I knew you loved him. He’s so stinking cute.”

Stefano nods. “I’m glad you said that because…” He fishes his hand into the tote, and stalls. “I was able to secure you, an Oopsie Daisy.”

A full-body sneeze spills out of me. Into the elbow, thankfully, and not on this beautiful, big-hearted man.

Thanks, Mon.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” I shake away the sneezy haze. “Okay, now an oopsie what?”

Out of the bag, he produces an adorable white daisy flower plush with a friendly, smiling, happy yellow face, and a tiny card affixed to one of her petals.

Now, I’m the one with the goofy grin.

I dart my gaze at him before reading the message.Oopsie Daisy, you feel sick. Hope you feel better soon. Love, Stefano.

Shoot.

One would think I don’t plan elaborate weddings with tear-jerking vows and professions of love for a living.

It’s a fun-sized, punny greeting card for goodness’ sake.

Yet here I am in all my empathic splendor, tearing up at this beautiful man’s sweet gesture and casual use of a four-letter word. Obviously, he doesn’t love me. How could he when less than two months ago we loathed each other? Well, that might’ve been one-sided. At the least, though, we barely tolerated each other.

Now, I’m thinking about him nonstop. I’m finding excuses to call and text. Multiple times daily. The scene of us at the winery reels across my mind at will. He asked me to be his wedding date. That’s got to mean something. Yesterday, I was supposed to be finalizing the venue setup timeline for my client Nichelle’s wedding, and instead, I lost an hour daydreaming, imagining it was my happily-ever-after with Stefano that I was planning. Dammit, I was low-key excited about stopping at the drugstore for a pregnancy test before my period went and ruined it.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s too much, too fast, right?

But now, he’s here with food and gifts, taking care of me, without me ever having had to ask.

“Thank you.” I swallow, focusing on the plush toy. “I know she’ll keep me warm and safe at night, too.”

With our ever-present sexual tension acknowledged and my heart still stuttering in my chest, we fill a tray with ginger ale and bowls, spoons, and saltines for the soup. I assume we’re locked and loaded to be bed-bound, but Stefano’s starts cleaning my house. He’s a tidying hurricane, fluffing pillows, folding my throw blankets, and picking up Ace’s toys, and I don’t know how not to fall harder.

“One thing about kids, it’s a constant cleanup.” I aim for comic relief. Then immediately vacuum the amusement out of the room when I add, “Sure about that package deal?”

Stefano simply smiles. “I should be so lucky.”

Inside I’m swooning, feeling the ache to be more.

When we finally make it to the bed, though, thankfully, we circle back to his soul-healing movie playlist because I’m just a bag of bones and feelings, at this point.

“Think Like a Man,” Stefano says.

I cringe as I settle onto the right side of the bed, adjusting myself under the covers before I grab my bowl off the nightstand.

My face isn’t because the movie is bad.

---