Carlo scooted his chair over and gripped her hand tightly. His gaze was pained and filled with sorrow as he reached up with his free hand and gently skimmed away her tears. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
She shook her head and wiped away her sniffles with the back of her hand. “It’s not you, Carlo.” It’s never you, she wanted to say. He was one of the few things in her life that had been good and happy. Carlo, her mom, and her friends were bright points of light and joy for her.
“I wish . . .” He paused, clearly searching for the right words, but there were none. There was nothing that could change how her father had made her feel. Or the betrayal that had come later and made her so hesitant to trust a man and kept her from being able to love a wonderful man like Carlo.
“I know there’s nothing that can change the past, but . . . Not all men are like that,” he said, but she understood what he was really saying. I’m not like that.
“My mom told me once that he wasn’t that way when they were dating or first got married. That it kind of just happened little by little.”
Carlo, ever perceptive, cradled her cheek and said, “Which makes you wonder if it was something you or your Mom did to make him that way. But that’s just making excuses for him, isn’t it?”
His words were logical. Supportive even and yet she found anger rising up inside her again. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think that I wish I could stop feeling like this and move on with my life?” Move on so that she could learn to love and trust a man like Carlo as both a lover and business partner.
Her words and their hurt vibrated in the air between them. She held her breath, waiting for a backlash. Waiting for rage like that which would erupt from her father if she challenged him. Instead, Carlo smiled tenderly and swiped his thumb across her cheek once more, the touch soothing and tender. He leaned forward, laid his forehead against hers and whispered, “I’m a patient man, Emma. I’ll be waiting for you no matter how long it takes.”
“What if it’s never?” she wanted to say as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. But for now, she let herself bask in the warmth of his embrace and let herself believe that he would wait. That he would be there if she ever got her act together. And if she didn’t . . . .
She didn’t want to think about that possibility.
Chapter 5
They survived the bridezilla rehearsal dinner and wedding because it turned out Sidney was like Jekyll and Hyde, full of charm and sunshine in public unlike the very nasty persona they’d seen during their private encounters. Emma recognized the pattern and was surprised she hadn’t picked up on it before since her father had been much the same way. People would always tell her how nice he was because he hid the monster well.
The wedding ceremony and reception rolled along without a hitch with everyone smiling and enjoying the day, even the beleaguered groom. She hoped that his life with Sidney would turn out to be better than hers had been up until the day her father had left. Of course, her father’s departure had caused even more havoc in their lives, but she fought back that unhappiness and plastered a smile on her face as the final guests left the ballroom of the country estate where the wedding had been held.
She did a slow spin around to check out the ballroom. Carlo was in one corner, directing his crew on what to do about the breakdown of the area. His team would have to cart away china, glasses, and cutlery as well as the decorations and flowers that had been left behind. In the morning she would run by his warehouse to pick up the flowers and drop them off at various assisted living and senior facilities where they would brighten someone’s day.
She walked over to where he stood, finishing up the instructions for his staff. As his people walked away and he saw her, he smiled, his brown eyes glittering with joy as they settled on her. His smile warmed her, as it always did, and washed away some of the tiredness in her body and her soul.
“We did it,” she said and hugged him. She lingered in his embrace, savoring the peace it brought.
“Yes, we did. Chalk up another one for the Dynamic Duo,” he teased and swung her around playfully in his strong arms.
“Stop, you crazy man!” she said, but as he settled her on her feet again, their gazes met and the moment slowly morphed into more.
She reached up, cradled his cheek, and ran her thumb across the five o’clock shadow there and then across his lips. “Thank you for everything. This was a tough one.”
“I know,” he said and mimicked her action, his calloused fingers gentle against her face. He drifted his thumb across her lips in a touch as potent as any kiss and her insides twisted with need. Heat built inside her and she swayed ever closer and tilted her face upward, wanting more.
“Carlo,” she began and rose on tiptoes, but was interrupted by Paolo, Carlo’s younger brother, as he shouted out to snare Carlo’s attention.
“Mano, we need you out back,” Paolo yelled and stuck his head in through the doors to locate his brother.
A heavy sigh escaped Carlo and he wagged his head with regret as he eased out of their embrace. The absence of his comfort and strength came immediately. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” he said and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before he rushed away.
She watched him leave and whispered, “I’m sorry, too.” As much as she needed to resist him until she could sort out her feelings, it was becoming difficult to do so. But it was also not fair to let their relationship founder like a ship tossed up against the Sea Kiss jetties, caught in the tides and repeating the same senseless pounding against the rocks until it broke apart and sank. If their relationship, business or otherwise, was to stay afloat, she needed to decide what she wanted.
Luckily, there was only one more wedding to go before a break for the holidays. After Connie and Jonathan’s big day, she was going to have to find a way either to deal with her feelings for Carlo or go Carlo-free on a personal level for both their sakes. It was the only fair thing to do.
AS SOON AS CARLO PUSHED through the doors of the ballroom and they were out of Emma’s sight, he playfully cuffed Paolo across the back of his head.
“Cabrão, didn’t you see we needed a little privacy,” he complained, frustrated at being interrupted just when Emma might actually be thawing.
Paolo rubbed his head and chuckled. “Mano, you never learn. She’s just like Sasha. You’re headed into another dark hole because Emma will never give you what you want.”
Carlo grimaced at the mention of his old flame. They’d been involved for years and she’d expected him to join the family business so she would be set for life. For months after he’d decided to take a risk by buying his food truck, she’d bitched and moaned and complained, trying to get him to change his mind and be what she wanted instead of understanding his dreams. He’d finally had enough and ended the relationship.
“Emma is nothing like Sasha,” he said and kept on walking toward the vans waiting to transport their equipment back to the warehouse.
“Sasha wanted what she wanted. Emma may not be selfish and impatient like Sasha, but she’s a ‘career woman,’ who wants what she wants,” Paolo said with some disdain and slapped Carlo on the back. “You need to find a nice Portuguese girl who’ll be at home waiting for you with a nice feijoada. Make pretty babies so mamãe will stop complaining.”
Carlos chuckled and shook his head, playfully nudging his brother with his shoulder. “You are a Neanderthal. And mamãe already has four gorgeous grandbabies.”
“But not from her own sons,” his brother said, digging up yet another painful part of his past.
Luckily, they had arrived at the vans and Carlo made short work of instructing the crew on how to get things packed. Unfortunately the over-the-top centerpieces the florist had made based on the bride’s demands wouldn’t all fit in the first load, so they’d have to do a second trip for those as well as some of the serving pieces they’d used for the elaborate dessert tables the bride had also insisted on.
Once his crew had returned to work in the loading area, Carlo hurried back into the ballroom to oversee the rest of the breakdown and hopefully return to where Emma and he had been when Paolo had rudely interrupted. Unfortunately, Paolo followed him and like a dog with a bone, his brother revived their earlier conversation. “Admit it, Carlo. You need to find someone else and soon. You’re not getting any younger, sabe. Mamãe needs those bebes!” Paolo said and mimicked rocking a child in his strong arms.
Carlo stopped dead and jammed his hands on his hips. He faced his brother and with an exasperated sigh said, “Mamãe loves those grandbabies as if they were her own, just like she loves our older brothers as if they were her own.”
“Half-brothers,” Paolo corrected and then plunged on. “Avô never let us forget that his daughter didn’t have us and that the bakery wasn’t ours.”
“Avô was a jerk. Papa would have gladly taken us into the business with Ricardo and Javier.” And while that grandfather, the father of his father’s first wife, might have objected, his two older brothers wouldn’t have had a problem, or at least he had hoped not.
“Maybe,” Paolo said with a shrug. “But don’t tell me that isn’t why you decided to start your own business. And don’t tell me mamãe isn’t dying for one of us to get married and start giving her more grandbabies.”
“So I won’t tell you,” he said and pushed on toward the ballroom, not only tired of the discussion, but wishing that Paolo’s words didn’t bring to mind an image of his and Emma’s future child, a fantasy he’d been having since they’d all found out that Connie and Jonathan were expecting. Which made him rush even faster toward the ballroom in the hopes of catching Emma before she left.
Unfortunately, she was gone, leaving him feeling empty inside. It was a feeling he’d had before thanks to Sasha’s actions. But much like he’d hoped years earlier that Sasha would support him and love him for the man he was and not the man she wanted him to be, he knew that he had to do something to try and either move along the relationship with Emma or move along without her. In some ways Paolo was right that he was in another possibly hopeless situation. He didn’t like being in that position again necessarily, but it also didn’t stop him from smiling as he imagined a baby with Emma’s strawberry blonde locks and beautiful emerald eyes and he dreamed of what could be.
EMMA STROLLED UP AND down the rows of gowns in the bridal salon’s storeroom, searching for a few more wedding gowns that she thought Connie might like and which would suit her friend’s body type and coloring. She had already selected her top three picks the day before, but she wanted to give Connie a number of gowns to choose from. She avoided anything that had too many ruffles, lace, or frou frou embellishments because that just wasn’t her friend’s style. Despite that, she did want something feminine and dreamy and elegant for her friend’s special day. She ignored one section of the storeroom because the colors would not go well with her friend’s olive skin and dark hair. After about an hour she had selected another three dresses that would best suit Connie and took them out to the consultation room. Connie would be there shortly along with Maggie and Tracy and Emma couldn’t wait to see what the bride-to-be and her friends would think of her choices.
She had a personal favorite: a wedding dress in pale blush satin with textured organza that draped over a free-flowing asymmetric skirt overlay just below the bosom. The lighter and loose organza would do well to hide the baby bump.
She ran her hand lovingly over the fabric, picturing her friend in the romantic and elegant dress on her very special day. A day that Emma had never pictured given all the things that Connie had wanted out of life. Of course, the special day wasn’t stopping Connie from her dreams, it was just giving her a whole new bunch of them.
Just like it might give you new dreams too, the little voice in her head chastised.
Shaking away that thought, she hung the dress on the center hook in the consultation room and did a quick once over of the other gowns she had chosen. They were all beautiful, but she could truly only picture Connie in one of them.
Determined not to show her preference, she set about prepping the room for when her friends would arrive. She laid out a tea service and an assortment of cookies that Carlo had made and brought over earlier.
Sexy and he can make cookies too! the little voice cajoled.
His pastry chef made them, she shot back, although they had still been warm when he had brought them over earlier that morning. Too early for his pastry chef to have been at work. She appreciated his thoughtfulness, but then again, they had promised to give Connie and Jonathan the most epic wedding ever and that also meant making all the little steps leading up to the big day perfect as well. That was why Carlo was being so attentive, she told herself although she knew otherwise. He was always attentive, and he knew how important it was for her to do this right for her friends.
She was determined to do it perfectly as well. For that reason, there would be beer and sandwiches for the guys later when they went to try on various tuxes and suits.
The sound of a footfall had her spinning around to where Connie stood, hands held over her mouth and tears glimmering in her eyes as she scrutinized the gowns hung up along the far wall. Maggie and Tracy were on either side of her. Maggie wrapped an arm around Connie’s shoulders and smiled from ear-to-ear. Tracy was a little more reserved, but clearly happy for her friend.
“They’re lovely,” Connie said and hurried toward the gowns. She lightly danced her fingers over every dress before coming back to the blush gown in the center. “I think I like this one the best.”
Maggie and Tracy murmured their agreement and Emma said, “I have to confess that’s my favorite too. And we have some goodies for you all to nibble on while you decide.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Connie said and whipped around to hug Emma enthusiastically, rocking her side to side with glee and uncharacteristically girlish laughter.
Emma’s heart warmed at her friend’s joy and she grinned and hugged Connie back. “I don’t think you’ll be much bigger by your wedding day, but we’ll plan for that. It’s easier to take in than to let out so we can make adjustments at the final fitting,” Emma said as she grabbed hold of the hanger and draped the skirt of the gown over her arm to walk it into the dressing room. When she exited, Maggie and Tracy were sitting on the antique upholstered divan slightly off center in the room and Tracy was pouring tea into the delicate bone china cups.
“I hope you’ve got something as beautiful for us,” Tracy teased as she finished and laid the china teapot back onto the tray on the Queen Anne style mahogany table.
She did have equally wonderful gowns for her friends and grinned. “I have some waiting for you in the next room. As soon as Connie is done, I’ll bring them in and we’ll try them on.”
Sitting on a wing chair beside the divan, Emma reached for the teacup and found her hands were shaking as she did so. The cup rattled against the china and Maggie reached out and laid a hand on Emma’s arm to reassure her.
“It’s going to be fine,” Maggie said and Emma knew it was about more than the dress selection.
Emma had no doubt about how much Connie and Jonathan loved each other. It was obvious every time you saw them together. “I know. I just want it to be perfect for her. She deserves it.”
“It will be perfect, Em. You’re such an awesome wedding planner. And Carlo,” Tracy paused as she nibbled on a shortbread cookie and then waved what was left of the treat. “Carlo is amazing. If he’s the one who baked these cookies, don’t let that man get away.”
Emma was spared from having to reply as Connie walked out in the blush gown. Connie smoothed the skirt with her hands and glanced at herself in the mirror before facing her friends. A radiant smile beamed back at them from Connie’s reflection in the mirror and her friend’s gaze shimmered with unshed tears.
“You’re so beautiful,” Maggie said, her voice quavering.
“Gorgeous, Connie,” Tra
cy added, her tone as raw as an open wound.
Connie glanced at Emma, obviously overcome with emotion. “Perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.”
Taking another moment to collect herself, Emma rose and guided Connie to the three-sided mirror at one end of the room so her friend could get a complete view of the gown. She smoothed the fabric and tucked in the excess so Connie would see what the final fit might look like. The barely-there pink brought out the best of Connie’s skin and hair and made the color of Connie’s amazing exotic green eyes pop brightly.
With slight pressure at Connie’s waist, Emma urged her half around to see the back of the gown. “We could do a French bustle here that would let the organza fall naturally.”
Nodding, Connie did a little back and forth twirl and said, “This is the one.”
With a nod, Emma tousled Connie’s shoulder length locks to fluff it out. “I know you’re not a prissy kind of girl, so I was thinking of just some waves in your hair with a tiny floral tiara and a wisp of a veil. Summery flowers in the tiara to match the altar Jon designed.”
“I like the summer theme for the wedding even if it will be December. It’ll always remind us of what happened the magical summer we met,” Connie said, way more romantically than Emma had ever heard. A sure sign that marriage did change women.
“I’m glad you said that, because I think you’ll love the color I’ve chosen for the bridesmaids’ gowns,” Emma said, struggling to hide the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “Now let’s get you out of this so you can relax. It’s a pretty good fit, but we’ll get the seamstress to tailor it in a few weeks on account of the baby.”
“The baby,” Connie said with a sigh and then impulsively hugged and kissed Emma on the cheek before she rushed to the dressing room to get changed.
Never a Bride Page 5