Page 98 of The Wedding Crush

A humorless laugh hurls out of me.

My head spins, and I’m dying to ask more questions.What the hell was that whiplash moment back there? How can you sit here talking about parties and marriage licenses like nothing happened? Why do I feel like, with a single question, I’ve sent us reeling backward? What aren’t you telling me?

Instead, I mumble under my breath, “No, I’m good. No questions here.”

“Okay, great.” Avery makes a note in her pink book. Her work done, Avery stops sharing her screen. After informing us she’s got an appointment at the top of the hour, she says her see-you-laters, and ends the meeting for us all.

I’m still staring at my computer wallpaper when my phone pings with a text notification. Hoping it’s from Avery, my attention snaps to the screen where there’s a message from Dante.

What in the hell did you do?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Avery

Idon’t knowwhat I’m doing.

These past two weeks, Stefano and I haven’t been alone for more than a few hours at a time.

No, we didn’t break up.

It’snotover. We’re not teenagers jumping in and out of relationships because we butted heads over the right time to out ourselves. We text. We still say we love each other. It’s a completely mature response for two adults who’ve yet to find our way to the same page.

You know, except for the whole undercover lovers thing.

I’m in love, pregnant, running on a trip-wire hormone cocktail, and possibly a rebound for a man who might be one-upping his ex. Other than that, I’m on a luxurious bachelorette party bus. The bar is stocked, and I’m surrounded by my friends who’ve been pregaming for the past hour. What is there to complain about?

A frustrated sigh heaves out of me.

Like a radar alert, Morgan rests her head on my shoulder and peers up at me, sympathetically.

“Are you thinking about him?” she asks.

Why yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about him for going on two months now. However did you guess?

I flit a quick glance to Chiara.

That’s right, my friend—also, my secret lover’s sister—is here to celebrate Morgan’s bachelorette party with us. And why wouldn’t she be? We’ve all grown into great friends. She’s an honorary circle sister, here to whoop it up tonight over fine Italian at Bramoso’s, her family’s restaurant, followed by riveting karaoke in a smoky hole-in-the-wall bar.

Heat swarms my neck and cheeks.

I’ve got no idea if Stefano’s told her about us. Or if Morgan, who I’m sure told Dante, has whispered the news into his sister’s perked-up ear.

So, not only can Inotdrink myself into a mope, now, I also can’t speak hypothetically about Stefano with my girls, either.

The thing is, believing in fairy tales… Solidly my territory.

But Chiara is Stefano’s sister. She’s Victoria “The All-Knowing” Fortemani’s daughter. It’s in her genes to sniff out a lie—or a not-so-secret secret—with ruthless elegance and graceful finesse.

Not to mention, she’s got me beat in the hopeless romantic territory.

Even if she’s been strangely quiet tonight.

“Yes,” I finally say to Morgan. I’m hoping against all hopes that she takes the hint that I’m trying to keep talk of Stefano to a minimum.Or nonexistent.Just in case, I cautiously add. “It’s your bachelorette party. Can wenotmake tonight about me and…” Wide-eyed, I mouth his name, on the off chance the music Seneca’s blasting doesn’t drown me out.

Morgan nods, not at all discreet.

On the other end of this L-shaped bench seat, Valerie’s eyes snap knowingly to us as she sips her bubbly.

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