Page 82 of Good as Gold
Okay, wow. I’d forgotten howvisceralmy feelings for Matteo had been back then—the gut punch of missing him so fiercely that I cried along to love songs. And that teenage, hormone-fueled certainty that I’d lost something precious.
“What?” Matteo says.
I realize I’ve been staring at him and jerk my chin away. “Nothing,” I mumble. “Just thinking about high school.”
He turns his attention back to the road, but my heart is pounding away. It’s been a long time since senior year. I’d long ago forced those feelings down, locking them away somewhere they couldn’t hurt me. This summer has broken that lock.
At seventeen, I’d ached for Matteo in that hot, pure way reserved only for teenagers. And all for a boy who’d never so much as kissed me.
I shiver, even though I’m not cold. I sneak another glance at Matteo, and it sears me to the core.I’m falling for him. Or maybe I fell already—eighteen years ago.
It’s going to be ugly when he leaves again. I can already tell. No wonder I practically melt every time he smiles at me. I’ve been here before. I’m making all my teenage mistakes for a second time.
“Almost there,” he says, slowing down to take the highway exit. He’s holding the steering wheel at ten and two—a safe driver and a good man. A great friend.
That’s what we’re supposed to be.Friends with a fun, once-a-month naked hobby.
Another song comes on. It’s “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5. My chest starts to ache right in time with the music.
Ow.
My heart is about to crack in half when Matteo abruptly punches theoffbutton on the stereo. Silence descends in the truck’s cab. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Need to find this place. Can you look for Hopson Road?”
“Of course.”
* * *
Once the wedding reception gets underway, there’s little time for sentimental yearning.
Mostly. Every time Matteo laughs, I feel it all over my body. And he’s so close that I can smell his spicy aftershave. I’d like to bury my face in his neck, but instead I’m counting the remaining cups, hoping there are enough.
These wedding guests candrink. As the sky goes dark, we’re already on our third keg of Goldenpour. The tipsier they get, the more the bridesmaids flirt with Matteo.
“So where do you live?” asks a particularly pretty one. She’s leaning casually against the bar.
And by “casually” I mean she’s hoisted her breasts onto the serving shelf, and she’s practically drooling on him.
“Colorado,” he says with a shrug. “Just visiting for a while.”
Her face falls.
“Looks like they’re cutting the cake,” he says, pointing toward the wedding tent. “Do they need you guys over there?”
“Oh. Whoopsy!” The bridesmaid whirls and trots off toward the tent as quickly as a girl can run in satin heels, and I hear Matteo chuckle.
And good riddance to you.
“Check out that cake,” he says. “Fancy.”
It’s three layers, decorated with lifelike roses. “That really is beautiful. This whole wedding is first rate.”
We watch the bride and groom cut their first slice. The groom takes a bit and jams it onto the bride’s lips, while onlookers laugh.
“I don’t get that custom,” Matteo says. “Why make a mess with the most expensive cake of your life, in front of everyone you know?”
“No idea,” I agree. I hadn’t let Rory do that to me at our wedding, thank God.
I almost say—you can skip it at your wedding. But the thought stops me cold.Matteo’s wedding. That’s a thing that could happen someday. Just because he hasn’t met The One, doesn’t mean he never will.
