Page 9 of The Wedding Crush

Dante’s eyebrows draw together curiously. “Sorry, Stef. So, you’ve been doing what…sulking?”

“In my car, listening to Johnny Timmons.” Mortified, I cover my face with my hand, laughing with these two knuckleheads. “I know, it’s pathetic.”

They’re bent over gasping for air, using each other to hold themselves upright.

“Ha ha. Get it all out.” I chuckle. “I didn’t want to upstage Mother’s big day. I hope this makes you feel better about whatever it is you were going to tell me because I’m leaving—”

Dante yanks me back into their huddle, still laughing, but his expression turns noticeably more pensive as he slips a small velvet box from his interior jacket pocket.

“What is that?” I ask, stupidly, knowing full well, my jeans and Timberlands brother in an impeccably tailored suit is a dead giveaway. “Are you and Morgan…now?”

Panic etches the lines of his face as he nervously darts his gaze past my shoulders. “Lord, keep it down.”

Suddenly, I feel like we’re in a time machine.

He isn’t thirty-nine. He’s nine—a few months from ten—and I’m fifteen, locked in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Tired, tear-stained eyes had peered back at me. He’d waited until the entire house was asleep to ask me how to make a girl like him. My initial annoyance faded quickly when I realized he hadn’t asked Dad or Nono. Not Mother either. Chiara and Marcello were too young, but I was his choice.

Dante had chosen to confide his fears and ask advice from his big brother, who he’d watched like a hawk, emulated down to the tapered fade and spotless sneakers, trusted to guide him.

As the oldest of four, I’ve always set the example for my siblings. First to business school, marriage, home­owner­ship…di­vorce. Now, he’s about to follow in my footsteps down a muddied, heart-breaking path.

“You’re going to ask her at Mother’s birthday celebration?”

“Do you really think she’s going to mind?” Dante counters. “She’s on the phone talking to Morgan daily.Sheaskedmewhat’s taking so long.”

That I believe.

She’s all about growing her family. To say she was hurt when Carina and I told her about the divorce is putting it lightly. Carina was like a daughter to her, and I’m certain they’ve remained in touch.

“So, why now? What’s the rush?” I ask, coaxing his stare to meet mine. Maybe, I’ll get a glimpse of what this is about. “Is she…”

“Asshole!”

“I was just asking.”

“No, Morgan isn’t pregnant. Iloveher.”If only that was enough.“I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to start a fam—” He breaks off for my sake but the rest of that sentence barrels through my bruised and bandaged heart.

I want to start a family.

I scrub a hand over my face, familiar sorrow shredding my insides.

Marco’s eyes widen, conspiratorially. “Not to insert myself but they haven’t discussed whether they want kids yet…”

Dante tosses him a chastisingyou’re not helpingglance before he turns back to me.

Silence wedges between us.

“Say something,” he prompts.

“How about four months?” I shrug, shaking my head.

He groans. “Say something else.”

“What do you want me to say? It’s June. You and Morgan met in February, and you’re already living together. Now, you’re proposing? I just don’t understand what the rush is,” I reason, wishing I could open his eyes for him, and make him see the glaring danger signs ahead. “You haven’t had any drag-out, knock-down arguments that challenge the very foundation of your relationship. What about finances? You’re living together, but she works in the city. How long before commuting gets old?”

“He’s got a point there,” Marco agrees. “Y’all need to figure that out.”

“Thank you.” Dante sucks his teeth.

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