Page 88 of The Wedding Crush

“You think I’m going to let that stop me from being with you?”

My whole heart on a platter.

“It’s the final wedding party get-together.”

Honestly, I don’t know what response I’m trying to elicit from him by stating this. Part of me realizes we’re building this relationship-like thing aside from the wedding and planning. But there’s another part that feels like we’ve only been together because the wedding forced us to be. What if this all ends when my best friend and Stefano’s brother sayI do? What if we’re just living in the moment, and nothing real comes from it?

We must both doze off sometime during the second movie because I wake up to the credits rolling in a haze of nausea.

I fumble my way in the bathroom, and barely get my head to the toilet before I’m emptying my stomach, loudly. So, I shouldn’t be surprised when Stefano appears behind me, holding my hair and rubbing my back.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say, so glamorously into the toilet. “I’m okay. You can go back to bed.”

“Shhh, I want to be here for you,” he says. “Please let me take care of the woman who’s taking care of my heart.”

For a beat, I consider refusing, insisting I’m okay. It’s been so long since I let anyone be here for me. I’m so used to doing everything on my own. Taking care of Ace, solving everyone’s problems, holding everyone up. But who’s taking care of me?

Now, this thoughtful man with his handsome smile is offering, and I want to let him even though I know I’m falling.

It’s too late.

So, I say, “Okay.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stefano

I’m a hypocrite.

Two months ago, I stood under a tent at this vineyard, warning my brother not to rush into marriage. Good Lord, I was so damn self-righteous. I hounded him about rushing in. I gave him shit about finances, arguments, living arrangements, and freaking decorative hand towels, after being together four months.

I’ve been liaising with Avery for those same two months, and now I’m at the terrace bar on this fine Wine-Down Wednesday evening, mentally mapping out a life for us.

We don’t even have a relationship.

We’re, what? The best man and maid of honor?For a day?The wedding planner and her vineyard liaison?That’s just logistics. And a sad case, at that.The Dream Team? Wedding dates? The nice guy who plays with her son, takes care of her when she’s sick, and sleeps over from time to time?Jesus, that could be anyone from a playdate to a nurse to the goddamn milkman.

It’s not that we need some socially acceptable romantic label.

What are we, in high school? Be my girlfriend. Check yes or no? But how’s she supposed to know I’m serious?

This is ridiculous. I’m regressing. Just talk to her.

Avery’s laugh across the terrace steals my attention.

I swivel around, spotting her at the center of our group. The wedding party. They’re all huddled around her, knee-deep in conversation, everyone is sipping from their glasses. Well, she isn’t yet. I’m still waiting for our drinks—a Merlot for me and a ginger ale for Avery.

She’s still hasn’t been feeling one hundred percent this last week, but she’s slowly getting back to herself.

“Here, we go, boss!” Tony, our resident event bartender, slides our glasses across the bar. “Popcorn?”

“Not just yet,” I say.

“Hey, you’re missing out on the cheddar caramel mix…”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” I chuckle as I slip my billfold from my pocket and lay down a twenty in front of him. But I don’t miss the way he lingers, his lips parted and gaze darting curiously between me and the pale-yellow liquid.

“Everything copacetic?” he presses.

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