Not the most original name, but okay. “That’s not so bad.” Solstice made a face, so I asked, “Is it?”
“It’s weird because it only has, like, ten reviews, all from two years ago, and they’re all so generic that they sound incredibly fake.”
“And?”
“Did he strike you as the type to own a restaurant? You know what hard work that is.”
I did, and now that she mentioned it, he didn’t seem like the type at all. “He wore super expensive shoes. And his watch cost a fortune.”
She threw up her hands. “Exactly. Something’s off there.”
I gave it another thought, then shrugged. “You know what? It’s not our problem. They already paid the invoice, so what do I care?”
Solstice pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded. “Good point.”
“Just out of curiosity, what do you think he does for a living?”
Solstice hesitated. “Honestly? He gives hitman vibes.”
“Hitman? Girl, you’ve watched too many bad action movies.”
“Maybe, but he gives me the chills.”
I couldn’t deny that because I’d felt the same. “Still not our problem, is it? Paid invoice, Sol. Six months of rent.”
“Right.” She bent forward and kissed my cheek. “Go deliver that cake and then get some sleep, okay? You look like shit.”
“Love you too, darling.”
I was still smiling when I drove to the wedding venue, which was on the outskirts of town. Charming was a cute small town in the Hudson Valley, about an hour and a halffrom the city. Close enough for New Yorkers to travel to but far enough away to have that classic American small-town flavor. And with a name like Charming, it was almost fated to be a wedding destination. You had to work with what you had, right?
Gia had picked the Holy Cross Church for the ceremony and mass, and Father Judson liked doing weddings. Built like a defense football player and hella hot with blond hair, an angular face, and a pair of crystal-blue eyes, he must’ve been votedLeast Likely to Become a Priestin high school, but here we were. Too bad because honestly, I wouldn’t mind him doing me. The good lord knew I could use a solid dicking, but alas, there were few available options in this town.
But we did have options for wedding venues, ranging from small with country charm—Avery’s Apple Orchard—to tawdry. That would be the Irish pub, where the only Irish element was the sheer amount of alcohol served. And we had one more luxurious option, which had been Gia’s pick for the reception, obviously, so I headed to the Charming Banquet Hall.
A professionally printed sign outside the banquet hall announced the wedding in elegant script:Celebrating the Union of Carlo Ricotta and Gia Mangioni. Their names were surrounded by ornate flourishes and small golden bells, the kind of expensive signage that spoke of serious money being spent. And those two names… This really would be a full-blown Italian wedding, complete with all the traditions and probably enough food to feed half the Hudson Valley.
When I pulled up to the back entrance, Steve was already waiting for me. I’d texted him as soon as I’d left, knowing I’d need his help.
“Hey, Charles,” he said when I got out.
“Hi, Steve. Thanks for helping.”
“My pleasure.”
Together, we carried the cake out of the van and placed it onto a cart. I liked working with Steve. He was on the spectrum, but it made him super careful and detail-oriented—not a bad thing when handling a wedding cake.
“This good?” Steve checked when we’d transferred the cake onto the table.
“Perfect. I’m gonna do the finishing touches, and then I’m out of here.”
“Your work is done, and ours is beginning,” Steve said like he always did.
“Exactly.”
“I will see you later, Charles. I have to drive to the rental facility now and pick up the extra chairs.”
“Sounds good. Have a good day, Steve.”
