My stomach flutters at his gruff words. I wouldn’t mind feeling his massive palm connect with my ass again, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
The door swings open, and he steps inside.
“Where to, my queen?”
A quiet laugh bubbles out of me for the first time since we left the doctor’s office. “Couch.”
He deposits me on the oversized sectional, then takes the open spot directly beside me. “Are you gonna call Tyler?”
“Yeah. I think so. The longer I wait, the harder it’ll be.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
My eyes land on the empty picture frames on the wall that once held mine and Tyler’s engagement photos. I spent weeks painstakingly picking out the off-the-shoulder white dress and matching heels so everything would be perfect.
Tyler went out the night before and got shit-faced. I still remember Griffin helping him through the door at one o’clock in the morning. The bartender had called him when he realized Tyler was too drunk to drive himself home, and that’s just the kind of man Griffin is. He won’t hesitate to help a friend, whether they’ve had a few too many and need a ride home, or got left at the altar and need a replacement groom.
I can’t keep heaving my burdens onto him. Not this time.
“No. I have to do this on my own.”
Disappointment flickers in his dark irises, but he quickly steels himself. “Call if you need anything.” He stands and walks toward the door, only to stop halfway and turn back around. “Almost forgot. Mama wanted me to tell you she expects us both at family dinner on Sunday. We can’t keep putting it off.”
“I’m honestly surprised we got away with it as long as we have.”
He laughs. “Yeah. I ran out of excuses weeks ago.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder. “I should go. Let me know what Tyler says.”
“So you can kick his ass?”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect my wife. If that means I have to kick Tyler’s ass, so be it.”
With those parting words, he strides out the door, and I watch through my living room window as he drives away.
For a long time, I sit there, delaying the inevitable until my phone rings with an incoming call from my dad. Both of my parents are in their late sixties, and they moved to Europe once they retired. While we keep in touch as often as we can, the time difference between Italy and Oak Ridge makes it difficult. They also don’t know the first thing about social media, which means they likely have no idea what’s been going on in my life since the wedding debacle.
I swipe to answer the call, and my dad’s beaming face comes into view. “Hi, Dad.”
“Angelina, stella mia. How are you?” My childhood nickname spoken in my dad’s rich Italian accent sends a flood of warmth through my system. This is just what I needed to lift my spirits.
“I’m good. Busy as usual.”
“That’s enough small talk, Alfonso,” Mom says, pushing her way into the frame. My heart squeezes at the sight of two of my favorite people in the whole world. I miss them both so much, but retirement looks good on them. “Let me see my daughter.”
My mom, Selena Rossi, grew up stateside, the youngestdaughter of Greek immigrants. It was her greatest wish to retire to a coastal town in Europe, and my dad’s was always to make hers come true.
“Lina, my love. You look tired.”
I love my mother, truly I do, but she can be really direct in her delivery.
“How was the honeymoon?” she asks.
I stand from the sofa, pacing the length of the living room. “I have news.”
“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” she says. “What is it?”
Nausea rolls through me, but I manage to keep it at bay. I’m not certain it has anything to do with the pregnancy this time. “I didn’t marry Tyler.”
She frowns, squinting at the phone as though she might find the answers from halfway across the world if she stares hard enough. “What happened? You were so excited.”
