by Sam Mariano
“They’re just kidding. Mateo doesn’t really get jealous.”
“Tell that to Vince,” Sal states.
“Poor Vince,” I mutter, shaking my head. I glance around to see if I can find him, now that I’m thinking about him. “We should go find them. Mia had to slow dance with Mark, so he’s probably pissy about it.”
“Everybody’s pissy about something with her,” Sal states, shaking his head. “That girl’s a curse.”
“You’re telling me,” Adrian says, rolling his eyes.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Whatever, you both love Mia.”
“I like her, but she’s a pain in my ass,” Adrian states.
“Mateo is a pain in your ass,” I argue.
“I lose sleep over the pair of them.”
“We should start a club,” Sal tells him.
“Or you guys could just not worry about it, since I guarantee Mateo doesn’t lose a wink of sleep over any of us,” Elise suggests.
I cock my head, unsure whether I’m offended or impressed. “Damn, Elise.”
Sal shrugs. “I’m gonna go with the club idea. We can order T-shirts and have meetings.”
I smile, leaning in to kiss him. “I like you.”
“I hope so,” he says lightly, wrapping an arm around my waist and tugging me close. “It’s a little late to change your mind now.”
Chapter Fifty
Francesca
We stop by a couple more tables on our way to Vince and Mia—Sal’s guests, not mine. Ordinarily more of my relatives would come, but with Dad dying recently and this being a smaller wedding, we didn’t really invite any out-of-town Morellis. Sal invited more guests than I did, but that’s fine by me. I didn’t need a huge wedding. I couldn’t possibly be happier than I am with the one I had. Three hundred Morelli and Castellanos associates scattered around drinking and socializing sounds absolutely horrible. That’s what Mateo’s wedding will be like if he ever firmly lands on a bride. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to get married. Can’t fault him there.
“Why are you smiling?” Sal asks.
“Because I’m funny,” I tell him.
He laughs shortly. “You are pretty funny.”
A waiter carrying a tray of drinks is circulating near us, so I stop him to grab two flutes of champagne on our way to Vince’s table. We decided not to do a bridal party table and force everyone to sit together, so Vince and Mia are sitting at a table strategically placed far, far from Mateo and Meg.
I can already see Vince is not in a good mood, but I paste on a big smile as I approach.
“Hey, guys.”
Mia manufactures a smile. Vince does, too—kinda. It’s more pained than convincingly happy, but I’m sure it’s been a long day for them, following a long night after the rehearsal dinner.
“Enjoying your reception?” Mia asks.
“Everything about our wedding was perfect,” I assure her. “Thank you so much for your help. When we get back from our honeymoon, I’m buying you an awesome present.”
“Buy her a purse,” Vince suggests, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “That’s how her favorite Morellis compensate her for her favors.”
Ignoring him completely, Mia asks us, “Where are you going for your honeymoon?”
I glance from him to her, but if they want to ignore it, I will, too. “Uh, Italy. Puglia, Sicily, Sardinia. I’m expecting to gain 54 pounds. We’ll have to take a spin class when I get back or something.”
“Definitely,” Mia agrees. “Send me lots of pictures. I’ve never been anywhere, I want to vacation vicariously through you.”
“I will. I’ll stop over and show them all to you when we get back, too. I want to make a honeymoon photo album, because I’m lame.”
“That’s not lame,” Mia assures me. “If I ever go on a honeymoon, I’m sure I’ll want to do the same thing.”
Vince rolls his eyes like she’s sorely testing him, but he refrains from sniping at her and instead looks at me. “I hope you guys have fun in Italy. We should hit up the diner when you get back and you can tell us all about it. Admittedly, I’m not yearning to thumb through a honeymoon photo album, but I’ll look at it if you want me to.”
“It’s a double date. Don’t tell Meg,” I joke.
“No, really, don’t; she’ll probably invite herself along,” Sal agrees.
“She’s won’t even bring Mateo, she’ll just comfortably attach herself as a fifth wheel on our double date,” I say, nodding my head. “We’ll keep this plan under wraps.”
Normally this is where Mia would run to Meg’s defense, assuring us all that Meg is great because of bla bla bla, but now her eyes drop to the table and she is quiet.
Before it can get weird, Vince stands and comes over to give me a hug. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
I give him a squeeze, sighing. “I want you to be, too,” I murmur.
“Yeah, well.” He doesn’t finish his sentence, just pulls back and offers his hand to Sal. “You take good care of her, Castellanos.”
“I sure will.” Sal nods for a few seconds, eyes on Vince. “What about you guys? Haven’t seen you out on the dance floor yet tonight. Too cool to dance?”
“Yep,” Vince says, nodding. “That is the issue. I’m just too cool.”
“Well, you should warm up. There are far less cool things than dancing with your lady,” he advises.
Vince casts Sal an unimpressed, knowing look. “Thanks for the advice.”
“I try,” Sal says, a bit dryly.
I’d like to chat a little longer, but it seems like Vince and Mia are one wrong syllable away from a blowout, so we make our way on to the next table, mingling and thanking them for coming. Dante came with Colette, so I thank her for doing such a nice job on all my flowers. Every table has a lovely blue hydrangea centerpiece from her flower shop, and I was so busy with everything else I didn’t give her much to work with. “Make something with blue hydrangeas” was literally all I told her, and she came up with a gorgeous, classy centerpiece, dripping with crystals and lit by floating candles. I’ve hardly had a chance to look at them since we got here, but she did a great job.
“I hope the photographer got pictures of all this stuff,” I remark to Sal as we head toward Meg and Mateo’s table. “I had no idea I’d be so busy I wouldn’t have time to even look at anything.”
“I’ll make sure there are less people at our Entourage wedding so you have time to really soak up the experience,” he assures me.
Chuckling, I shake my head at my crazy husband. “The Entourage wedding is never gonna happen. I think that’s the only way I wouldn’t marry you.”
“If I’m gonna wear a cupcake tux, you are definitely going to have an Entourage wedding. It’ll be hilarious. Mark will love it.”
“Then Mark can have an Entourage wedding.”
“Considering he’s pining away for a girl he can never have, I consider it unlikely we’ll be attending his wedding anytime soon.”
“Maybe he and Maddie will run off to Vegas and surprise us. Solve two of my potential matchmaking assignments in one fell swoop.”
“Francesca, I adore you, but you’re not allowed to pimp my sister out. Not to your family, not to my friends—let’s just leave Maddie alone.”
“I just want everyone to be as happy as we are,” I tell him. “Plus, girls get way more flexible about letting you cross names off your hit list once they’re happy with someone else. Sure, you crossed off número uno, but Maddie’s hipster ex is still roaming the streets, taking random ladies for free vacations and breaking hearts. Obviously a menace to society.”
Draping an arm around my shoulder, he says, “You know what, I’m so glad I married a Morelli. You guys are nuts, but it works for me.”
“You mean civilians like Vivian weren’t so understanding about your hit list?”
With a convincing cock of his head and quirk of his dark eyebrow, Sal replies, “Vivian who?”
I can’t help grinning at h
im. “You’re nice.”
When we approach Mateo’s table, Meg is leaning in with her arm around him, her other arm extended as she holds out her cell phone and attempts to direct him in how she wants him to pose.
“I’ll smile if you take it within the next ten seconds, otherwise you’re out of luck,” Mateo states.
“Why don’t you like pictures?” she demands. “You’re gorgeous. You should love having your picture taken.”
“Six seconds.”
Growling, she pastes on a smile and leans her face against his. “Okay, now stick your tongue out.”
“What in God’s name—?” He scowls at the screen, then leans out of the shot. “All right, you lost your chance.”
“No,” she says dramatically. “Fine, you don’t have to stick your tongue out, but it would’ve been way more fun that way.”
“There are ears on that screen. You put ears on me.”
“Lily and Isabella love them. I just want to send a picture to Ju since we’re not going to be home for Lily’s bedtime.”
He shakes his head, drawing his own phone out of his pocket and turning his attention to that.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking over at him. “Are you going to download the app so you can take pictures of yourself with puppy dog ears when you’re alone because you’re too embarrassed to admit you find it adorable? You don’t have to be so sneaky. I’ll love you even if you want to take puppy ear selfies.”
“No, I’m reminding myself to schedule a mental health evaluation after your next OBGYN appointment,” he states, eyes not moving from the screen. “Done.”
“Hey, guys,” I say, glancing from Meg to my brother.
“Will you tell your brother that the myth about cameras stealing your soul isn’t true, and he should let me take a picture of us at your wedding?” Meg asks me.
“I’ll take an ear-free picture of you guys if you want one,” I offer.
“I’ll take it.” Meg says, looking to Mateo. “You in?”
“I guess so.” He doesn’t seem thrilled, but he wraps his arm around Meg’s shoulders anyway so I can take a picture of them with her phone.
“There you go,” I say, handing it back.
Meg checks the picture, then nods her approval. “Perfect. Wanna see?” she asks, holding it out to Mateo.
He glances at it and nods, but he’s never been a picture person, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t care. I will not be offering to show him my honeymoon album.
“How’s the wedding?” Mateo asks me. “Everything you wanted it to be?”
“And more. Thank you again, you really didn’t have to pay for our wedding.”
“I pay for things; it’s what I do.”
“That’s why we like you,” Sal jokes.
“I know,” Mateo says, not joking.
“That’s not really why we like you,” I state, raising my eyebrows.
Sal nods his agreement. “It’s because you’re so virtuous.”
At that, Mateo smirks.
Meg joins in. “They’re right. You really need to step outside the box, you goody goody.”
“I’ll do my best to shake things up,” he assures her.
She grins, but then stage whispers, “Not really though, right?”
“I guess we’ll see,” he tells her, glancing out at the dance floor.
“If they play another Ed Sheeran song, I’m going to stab myself in the ear drum,” Meg states, following his gaze, then looking back to me. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Ed Sheeran, but they’ve played 800 of his songs already. I just remembered one was your first dance, and I have no filter, and this is probably why you don’t like me.” She misses half a beat, then goes on. “Your dress is so sweet, by the way. I’m not all about the ball gown myself, but you look like a princess.”
Mateo’s attention is across the room now, his gaze trained on a table on the other side of the dance floor. The DJ announces another slow song, and as the first strains of At Last by Etta James start up, Mateo is up and out of his chair. I expect him to ask Meg to dance—and from the look of it, she expects that, too—but before she can move to stand, he braces his weight on the back of her chair, leaning down to give her a kiss.
I step back, unsure what he’s doing. I’ve been given many hugs and Sal many handshakes, but I’m assuming I’ll see Mateo again before he leaves.
“Are you going somewhere?” Meg asks, as uncertain as we are.
“I’m going to go dance with Mia.”
My eyes widen, jumping to hers. Meg looks a little surprised, but she offers a smile. “Oh. Okay. Make sure you save Sinatra for me.”
Smiling back over his shoulder as he walks away, he tells her, “You know I will.”
I feel a little awkward standing here now. Meg probably does, too, but you can’t tell looking at her. She keeps her cool, her hand drifting almost absently to her slightly swollen belly as she watches Mateo cross the dance floor.
As is his way, Salvatore saves me. “Well, I think my bride and I should get back out on the dance floor ourselves.”
“Of course,” Meg says, her gaze snapping back to us. She smiles, literally shooing us. “Go dance the night away like the newlyweds you are.”
I do not hesitate to take the out she gave me. As Etta starts singing, Sal takes my hand and guides me out onto the dance floor. I lack the self-control to keep from looking over at Mateo, standing in front of Mia, Vince sitting there looking like he’s going to kill someone.
“Oh man. How close do you think we could get to that table before they would realize we’re shamelessly spying?”
“Guess what?” Sal asks, his hands moving to my hips as he firmly moves me so that my back is to Mateo.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. “I have to see what happens.”
“Nope,” he says, pulling me close. “We are officially on vacation from your brother’s love life.”
“But—!”
He doesn’t let me finish. “Tonight you and I are going to go back to our new home and spend our first night together as husband and wife. Then tomorrow we are going to go to the airport and take a very long plane ride. We’re going to spend an entire week relaxing, fucking, and eating delicious food—and we’re going to be free of the Morelli madness the whole time.”
“But can’t we just wait until—”
Sal shakes his head. “Nope. Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. You can’t relax if you’re worrying about everyone else. As soon as we get back, you can meet Mia for lunch or we can have her and Vince over to the house for our own family dinner. Plus I’m sure we’ll go over to Mateo’s on Sunday and catch up on whatever we missed.”
Nodding reluctantly, I say, “I guess that’s fair. I can’t believe we’re spending a whole week in Italy. What are you looking forward to most?”
“Non-stop Francesca for 168 hours,” he states without hesitation.
I grin, winding my arms around his neck and pulling closer. “Oh yeah?”
“Yep. It’s my favorite part of everything. When I took you to New York, that was the day I realized I needed to marry you. I mean, I would’ve settled for moving you in with me, but that wasn’t any more attainable than marriage, so I thought, hell, why not shoot for the stars?”
I let one of my hands drop from his neck to run tenderly down his chest. He looks so handsome in his tux, and even though I’m used to him being mine, I’m not used to him being my husband. “I can’t believe we’re married. As many times as we joked about it, I can’t believe it actually happened.”
Sal’s hand tightens almost protectively on my waist. “I get shit done when I need to.”
He certainly does. I love every side of him, from the light-hearted charmer to the darker side I’ve only seen brief flashes of. I’ll be perfectly content if I go the length of my life without ever seeing that side in depth, since I don’t especially love that side of anyone, but if I’m being honest, coming from my back
ground, I’m relieved he has it. While I don’t enjoy sadistic monsters like Luca, or selfish liars like my brother, there is something impressive about knowing my man will go to any lengths to take care of me. I hope he never has to go through anything like he’s already gone through for me again, and I don’t think he will, but that he wanted me that much to begin with is almost unfathomable.
“I’m so proud to be your wife,” I tell him, resting my hand over his heart.
“I hope so. I’m happy as hell to be your husband.”
“You know what I want to do when we get home?”
“Me?” he asks, hopefully.
Chuckling, I say, “Well, yeah. But before that, I kinda want to eat cereal on the couch and watch something. Is that stupid? It’s our wedding night, so we should probably light candles and do something romantic, but… I really want Froot Loops.”
Laughing, Sal presses my face to his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re too goddamn adorable for words.”
I tilt my head up, pressing a kiss to his chin. “Is that a yes?”
“If my wife wants Froot Loops on her wedding night, my wife gets Froot Loops on her wedding night,” he verifies.
“Your wife,” I say, sighing happily.
Sal suddenly lets me go, repositioning his hands. I realize the song is about to wrap up as Etta belts out the last lines. Sal gives me a little wink, then spins me, pulls me back in, and dips me the way he did at the altar, leaning down and sealing it with a kiss.
My heart does a little flip as the song ends and he pulls me back up again. I can’t resist grabbing him by the lapels and pulling him close, crushing my lips against his.
When I pull back to moon at him, he smirks. “You like that move, huh?”
“It’s a pretty slick move,” I reply, nodding.
“I’ve got a few more.”
“You’ll have to show me.”
He takes both of my hands in his, bringing them down to hip-level. “Eventually. I’ve gotta save a couple for our Entourage wedding.”
“I’m starting to think you really believe we’re going to have a wedding every year. I should clarify we are not.”
