Never a Bride

by Caridad Piñeiro

  He’d needed his space and to make his own way and that wouldn’t have been possible in the Ironbound where everyone knew him and his family and expected him to join the family business unaware of the fact that his younger brothers and he might not be welcome there.

  With a sigh, he dispelled that sadness and focused instead on the happy decorations and what he hoped would be even more joyous gatherings. Connie and Jonathan’s upcoming wedding was sure to start the holiday season right for all of them, and he had no doubt that it would be perfect.

  Perfect was what he and Emma did together because they had a unique kind of alchemy that let them take the most basic idea and transform it into something golden and wondrous. Not that they hadn’t had their share of near disasters like the time the baker’s delivery truck had gotten into an accident on the way to the wedding. The crash had toppled the multi-tiered cake, but somehow in the few hours before the reception he had managed to piece it back together and hide the damage while Emma had raced out to the bakery for replacement cakes to feed the guests.

  He was certain that Emma and he could be perfect together in other ways, whether it was being business partners or lovers. More than once he’d pictured making love with her and he was glad that he’d finally shown her just how he felt with the kiss. He knew they’d put things back to right soon. He missed their almost daily calls and the way they’d used to chat about what was going on in their lives once business was done. He missed just hanging out with Emma after a consult to share a bite and brainstorm ideas for whatever wedding they were working on. Most of all, he just missed seeing her, period.

  Fifteen minutes later he wheeled his van into the circular driveway of the Sinclair family mansion and parked behind Emma’s Sebring convertible. Connie and her fiancé Jonathan were staying in the Sinclair beach house while renovations were being done to the Pierce family mansion next door.

  He glanced over at the newlywed’s home-to-be which already looked so different than it had barely a month earlier. The bright colors welcomed and flowers lined the walk, inviting you to stroll up to the front door. That is if you could get past the carpenters, sawhorses, and lumber piled here and there along the walk and lawn. From inside the home came the sounds of whirring saws and men hammering away.

  With Connie and Jonathan’s wedding barely over a month away, Carlo hoped that the work here and at Jonathan Pierce’s new corporate building would be done in time to host the ceremony and reception. Although they had talked about a Christmas wedding, everyone had decided to have the event the first week of December so the families could celebrate the holidays more peacefully.

  Which meant he should get his butt in gear and head inside to go over what Connie and Jonathan wanted for their upcoming wedding. Especially since Emma was already here and he was eager to see her. He hopped out of the van and rushed to the door, and it swung open even before he could knock.

  Connie stood there, smiling, looking more beautiful than ever with healthy color in her cheeks. Emma had told him during one of their almost daily calls that Connie had been experiencing horrible bouts of morning sickness during the first months of her pregnancy. Now into her third month, Connie looked positively radiant. He could understand how the saying about pregnant women glowing had come about. An aura of joy and peace surrounded her.

  “Hola, Connie,” he said and dropped a friendly peck on her cheek.

  “How are you, mi amigo?” she said and hugged him.

  With a quick glance at Emma as she stood beside the kitchen table with Jonathan, he said, “I could be better.”

  Connie tracked his gaze and nodded. “Don’t give up on her.” Wrapping her arm around his, Connie led him into the house. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  They walked together through the parlor and into the kitchen where Emma and Jonathan stood by the table, seemingly in a deep discussion.

  “Hey, Carlo,” Jonathan shouted out and hurried over to give him a big bro hug and clasp his hand in greeting.

  “Hey, yourself. I hope I didn’t miss much,” he said but it looked like Emma had only just started laying out wedding invitation samples on the table.

  “Not a thing, but you know the world’s best wedding planner is way anal,” Jonathan teased Emma as he always did and returned to sit beside her at the table.

  “I am totally anal – I prefer perfectionist by the way—because I’m so looking forward to ending your days of bachelorhood,” Emma taunted right back and playfully poked him in the ribs.

  “It will be my pleasure,” Jonathan replied with a loving glance at Connie who slipped to her fiancé’s side for a kiss that raised the temperature in the room by a few degrees.

  “Break it up, kids,” Emma said playfully, but then cursed as her portfolio fell onto its side and disgorged a mound of samples onto the floor.

  Carlo bent at the same time Emma did and they barely avoided bumping heads as they gathered the invites into a pile. His hand brushed hers and heat blasted through him. As she jerked her hand away her gaze locked on his, full of confusion and yearning. It was a look he’d seen before on the night of Maggie’s wedding. On the night of that kiss and after.

  “Thank you,” she said as they finished gathering the invites and rose together slowly. As their arms brushed, they jumped apart and quickly turned their attention to their two friends.

  Jonathan and Connie were arm-in-arm and smiling, obviously in love.

  “Time to get to work and plan the most epic wedding ever,” Emma said and motioned for their friends to come look at the invitations.

  “Yes, let’s get to work,” Carlo said in the solemn and measured tone he reserved for clients and wedding guests. A tone that he’d unfortunately found himself using way too much around Emma lately.

  Chapter 3

  Emma hated that Carlo could be so controlled, especially now when her own emotions were a whirlwind of need, confusion, and regret all crazily gyrating around him.

  Connie must have sensed the vibes since she laid a hand on Emma’s back and stroked it reassuringly. “Let’s get this party started.”

  “Connie and I talked about this and we want to keep the wedding small,” Jonathan said.

  “Intimate,” Emma suggested.

  “Definitely intimate,” Connie replied with a chuckle. “About sixty. Family, close friends, and some key business acquaintances.”

  Emma gestured with her head in the direction of the Pierce mansion. “Could we get a look next door to see if the space will work for that many?”

  Jonathan nodded. “It will, I think.” A second later, his cellphone chirped and after a quick glance at the screen, he said, “I have to take this.”

  He stepped away into the parlor while Emma said, “We’ll be moving people to and from the new corporate center.”

  Carlo had noticed the brochures in the materials that had spilled out of Emma’s portfolio and in sync with where she was going, he shifted them in front of Connie. “These are local companies that have trolleys we could use for the transportation. But I think we could also –”

  “Showcase Jon’s Pierce electric vehicles,” Emma jumped in and Carlo smiled and put up his hand for a high five.

  Emma grinned and slapped his hand while Connie shook her head. “I swear you’re twins separated at birth with the way you think alike.”

  “Great minds,” Emma said with a chuckle.

  Carlo nodded and said, “I don’t think you chose a theme yet—”

  Connie shook her head and waved her hands. “Not a clue about the theme.”

  “The trolleys fit in with the quaint nature of Sea Kiss,” Carlo said and Emma added, “As well as Jon’s motor vehicle company.”

  “The old way of moving people and Jon’s new way melding together,” Connie said wistfully.

  “Love the trolleys,” Jonathan said as he walked back in and noticed the brochures on the table. “I remember riding in one with my mom as a kid. Unfortunately, Connie and I have to go. That call was
from the contractor working on Connie’s new office. He’s got a problem and needs us there so we can make some decisions.”

  Emma shared a glance with Carlo and it was clear he understood what she intended. “If you guys trust us –”

  “We do. Without hesitation,” Connie said and Jonathan nodded in agreement.

  “Totally, Em. Carlo,” he said.

  “Emma and I can take a look next door and come up with ideas,” Carlo replied.

  “Great. And after you do that, meet us at the corporate center. I’d like to talk to you about helping out with a press conference in about two weeks. It’ll be a good test run for the wedding,” Jonathan said.

  Carlo peered intently at Emma, once again understanding even before she said it. “I’ll have to check with Evelyn and Lucy about working on the press conference. I don’t see why not, but the bosses will make the call.”

  “Which is why it’s high time for you to think about your own company,” Connie chided, but Carlo jumped in to defend her. “I’m sure Emma will work things out.”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you, Carlo,” she said, reached out and squeezed his hand in gratitude, but that simple touch made his gut clench with need.

  But Connie was like a pit bull and was about to say something else when Jonathan squeezed her waist gently. “Let’s get going, babe. I’m sure Emma and Carlo can’t wait to go next door to check things out and come up with epic wedding plans.”

  Connie met Emma’s gaze and relented. “Yes, let’s go. We’ll meet you at the corporate center later.”

  Jonathan reached into his pocket and took out a ring of keys. “This will get you into the center. The men are at work next door and will let you in.”

  Carlo rose and snatched the key from Jonathan. “We’ll see you later,” Jonathan said and guided Connie from the room and out of the house.

  When the snick of the front door confirmed that the couple had left, Emma chuckled softly and said, “Not too much pressure, right?”

  Carlo shook his head and laughed. “To quote Jon, ‘Gnarly.’ But we’ve handled harder weddings.”

  She pointed a finger at him in confirmation. “Like Sidney the Bridezilla. Don’t forget we’ve got to meet with her next week.”

  Carlo rolled his eyes. “How could I forget? How about we think about something more pleasant and go check out next door?”

  “I’d like nothing better,” she said, rose, and Carlo followed suit. As she walked to the front door, he placed a hand on the small of her back, the gesture both possessive and reassuring. She let herself bask in those feelings as they walked into the chilly ocean breeze and quickly crossed the lawn to the Pierce mansion.

  The sounds of men working got louder as they approached the front door which was wide open. As they stepped inside one of the men installing flooring stopped working, stood, and looked in their direction.

  The laborer was a hard-muscled young blond and a broad smile worked across his face as he saw them. “Hola, Carlo. What’s up, mano?” he said and walked over to shake Carlo’s hand.

  “Miguelito. I didn’t know you were working here,” Carlo said and introduced the man. “Emma, Miguelito is an old friend from my lunch truck days.”

  He shook Emma’s hand and flashed her a grin that might have been devastating if she was interested. But her sole interest was in the dark-haired, dark-eyed man beside her which must have become apparent to the handsome laborer.

  “How can I help you two?” Miguelito said.

  Emma glanced around the space and worry speared through her. With only a month left before the wedding, it seemed like there was still a lot of work to do. Motioning to the space with her hand, she said, “Will this be ready by the first week of December?”

  “El Jefe wants it ready, so it’ll be ready,” Miguelito confirmed with a nod. “We’ll be done with the floor by tomorrow. After that, Jon wants us to build a dais where the kitchen island will eventually go. He started drawing something and left it over on the counter,” he said and jerked his head in the direction of the vintage cherry cabinets. Connie had mentioned to her that Jon had salvaged them from an older Victorian home in town that was being torn down. The new owners wanted something more modern and township officials had been unable to certify the nearly two century old building as a landmark in order to avoid demolition.

  “Watch your step,” Miguelito said and gestured to the pipes near the cabinets where Emma assumed the island peninsula would go.

  Emma and Carlo strode over to the kitchen area where assorted blueprints and papers sat on the white marble countertop. Emma flipped through some papers until she came to the partial design for the dais that Jonathan had hand drawn. She shifted the drawing so Carlo could see it.

  “It looks familiar,” he said and then quickly added, “Is that the back of Maggie’s house?”

  Emma sighed as she perused the partial design. “It’s the balcony from Maggie’s. When Jon and Connie first met he’d climb up the wisteria vine and up to the balcony to see Connie.”

  “Very romantic and the perfect theme. A summer romance, don’t you think?” Carlo said. He turned, faced the space, and held his hands up like a movie director framing a scene. “The balcony dais will go right where we we’re standing and we can have rows of chairs dressed in white with terra cotta pots filled with flowers at the end of each row.”

  His vision melded with hers as if often did. “Maybe even a grass runner down the aisle for a more outdoor look,” she said. Stepping back to face the kitchen cabinets, she motioned to them. “We can ask Sylvia to paint a backdrop and place it here to make it look like the beachfront.”

  Carlo nodded. “For sure. And you have a wedding invite that opens like a garden gate, don’t you? It would be perfect.”

  She smiled and hugged him hard. “This is going to be so epic!”

  “It is, isn’t it?” he said and prolonged the embrace, providing comfort that Emma hadn’t really known she needed, but obviously did. While things were going well for her friends, except for Tracy, her life was still the same. Some might say that was a good thing, but lately she had started feeling that it wasn’t. Something was missing from her work life and of course, her love life.

  But she had her friends and Carlo. That made it all bearable she thought as she savored the comfort of Carlo’s embrace. Long seconds later they broke away from the hug, both laughing and smiling.

  “This is going to be the most epic wedding ever,” she said and hugged Carlo once again, caught up in wedding happiness, and wishing nothing but joy for her friends. She hoped that she and Carlo could deliver on their promise to provide a perfect event. She also let herself hope that she and Carlo could survive all the happiness without any further challenges to their relationship.

  As they were walking toward the front door, Miguelito called Carlo over. Carlo excused himself and went to chat with the other man. It was obvious part of the discussion was about her, which was a little troubling. As Miguelito raised his hands in a gesture that said Hands Off/I Surrender, Carlo smiled, clapped the other man on the back and then returned to her side.

  “What was that about?” she asked as Carlo once again laid a hand on her back, the gesture rousing emotions once more.

  “One of our friends is opening a place in Asbury. The soft launch is tomorrow night and Miguelito thought we might want to go,” he explained and guided her in the direction of his van at the curb.

  “We? What kind of place?” she asked even though there was a little worry there about what going with him might mean. They’d spent a lot of time together in all the years they’d worked with each other. They chatted often, sometimes daily, but had never been on a real date.

  “A new restaurant. Over on Bangs. What do you think?” he said as slipped into the driver’s seat and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his fingers on it with obvious unease.

  Saying yes was risky. Saying yes might change what was going on between them, much
like the kiss that had shaken up the ground beneath their feet. But friends went to places together, she told herself. Things didn’t need to change radically, just a little.

  And maybe a little change was better than staying a coward and stuck in the same place where she’d been for so long.

  “I think I’d like that. I can meet you there,” she said with a reluctant smile.

  Carlo chuckled, glanced in her direction, and grinned. With a nod of understanding, he said, “I’ll meet you there, meu amor. How does eight o’clock sound?”

  “It sounds wonderful,” she said and tried not to acknowledge that something inside of her felt freer, more hopeful, than she’d felt in a long time.

  CARLO LEANED AGAINST the brick wall outside of Havana Lotus, the Chino Latino restaurant his friend was opening. It was located on an avenue in Asbury Park that was on the edges of the ongoing gentrification of a city that some people were calling Brooklyn on the Beach. The restaurant’s building looked like it had been recently renovated, but across the street and on the next avenue many of the buildings were still in various stages of destruction and construction.

  He peered down the block one way and then another, searching for Emma, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Instead bearded and tattooed hipsters, boomers, and gay couples strolled along the avenue, milled around the entrance to the restaurant, and drifted in and out of the building. As another group came around the corner, he recognized Miguelito and a few of the other young men he’d come to know from his days on the food truck route and his catering business.

  While Miguelito was Cuban, the rest of the group was a mix of Colombians, Mexicans, and Peruvians from the area. As they approached and noticed him, they walked over and greeted him. “Hola, Carlos,” one of the men said, forgetting that his mother had used the Italian form of his name because she’d had a thing for Italian actors when he and his brothers been born.