Page 93 of The Wedding Crush

Wordlessly, I’m telling him it’s nothing, when I’ve died a few minor deaths today because of how ironically funny this situation is. It’s hilarious, really. You labor, you plot, you make lists, then bam! Now, we’re both hypocrites. He’s rushing in, and I don’t even know if he loves me.

Heck, do I even know for certain if I love him?

My inner voice swiftly chastises me for lying to myself.

Of course, I love him.

I plan weddings. I pay attention to the details from the first consultation. The stolen glances. The constant touching. The sappy way they can’t be apart for more than two seconds.

I’ve got it bad for Stefano Fortemani, and I don’t know if the future he mentioned included Ace and me for real. Faced with the reality of us, plus the tadpole in my belly, what then? Will he still want my package deal?

Another bout of giggles spills out of me.

He arches an eyebrow. “Still nothing?” he asks with that handsome smile and easy charm.

This time it’s a soft swoon that slips past my lips.

How is he more handsome every time I see him?

“Oh, yeah, it just… The Tilt-A-Whirl plus cotton candy?No bueno,” I explain.

“Ah okay.”

Stefano gives me a reassuring nod as he tosses me a sidelong glance. I suspect he still isn’t wholly buying my story.

Rightly so, on his part.

I imagine I must look like I feel. Nervous and scared to tell him about my positive results and failing horribly at hiding it.

“I’m sleepy, Mommy,” Ace says.

Bending down to his level, I meet his big round brown eyes. He blinks slowly and rubs the back of his hand against them.

“Think you can make it a few more minutes until we get through the crowd?”

Ace shakes his head. “My legs are tired,” he says, and my whole heart wrenches at his quivering bottom lip.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry, Mommy will carry you.”

But before I can scoop him up, Stefano bends down, too. “Hmm, Mom’s tummy isn’t very happy right now. Would you mind if I carried you?” he asks Ace.

My son’s trembling lip and teary eyes as he nods are one thing.

But it’s this moment, exactly, that I know I’m so gone for this man.

Ace adores him. He felt safe with him on rides, shared his funnel cake, and held his hand at the petting zoo. Ace trusts Stefano enough to let Stefano hold him. And on top of their budding relationship, Seneca was undeniably right about women being hard-wired for men who seem responsible enough to take care of their family.

My ovaries are absolutely weeping with joy. I’m sure, so is my occupied womb.

God, if there is something wrong with this man, please tell me now before it’s too late because…

I’m standing here like a fool, more than a little hopeful, ogling this man as he sweeps my son up into his arms and rests his tiny body over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

As Ace’s small hand clings to the fabric of Stefano’s sweater, every inch of me aches with love. And a little grief over Justin.

It feels like I’m moving on from the life we shared.

Together, we walk in silence, weaving through the crowd toward the exit, when Stefano intertwines our fingers.

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