Never a Bride

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “Like clockwork,” he heard Paolo say through his earbud.

  He couldn’t disagree and so he sat beside Emma who smiled at him again and leaned toward him. “Like clockwork,” she said, repeating Paolo’s words. She tried to snap her fingers to confirm it, but they didn’t seem to be working.

  With a laugh, he took hold of her hand and teased, “Just how many glasses of champagne have you had?”

  She held up four fingers on her other hand and then stuck up a fifth. Squinting her eyes, she searched for a way to put up another few fingers, but he was holding on to her hand. Shaking her head, she said, “Maybe too many.”

  “Maybe,” he repeated as Jesse placed their dishes in front of them with a grin and a wink.

  Carlo gestured to the plate. “How about we get some real food inside you? Maybe it will help you feel better.”

  “I feel great and so do you,” she said, leaned against him, and nuzzled his jaw with her nose.

  Any other time he would have welcomed her playfulness, but not this way.

  Once more he pointed to her plate with the perfectly done filet mignon with red wine demi-glace, smashed fingerling potatoes, and grilled asparagus. “Eat, Emma. Now.”

  With a pout that made him want to kiss those delicious lips, she relented and ate. But her murmurs of appreciation had his mind and body working overtime as he imagined her murmuring to him as he made love to her. He had hoped that tonight would have been the first step toward that since pre-bubbly Emma had been slowly opening up to him.

  Now his one hope was to get Emma sober enough so that the night he’d hoped for would get back on track. As a waiter approached with a fresh round of champagne, he glared at the young man who quickly detoured away. The young server was intercepted by Tomás who handed him a smaller tray with glasses. Hopefully sparkling cider, Carlo thought as the waiter returned and replaced their empty glasses with the new drinks.

  Carlo swallowed his bite of the tasty and tender steak and picked up the glass. With a sip he confirmed his suspicions. Sparkling cider, but as Emma took a sip, she luckily didn’t seem to notice the difference.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and dug into his meal, hungry after the long day filled with so much emotion and activity. The steak filled his belly and as he gazed over at Emma, she seemed to be a little more alert.

  “That was delicious. You did an amazing job,” she said and sipped her drink.

  “We did. We should be happy with the work we did,” he said and cradled her cheek.

  “We’re good together,” she said and narrowed her gaze to skip it over his features, as if surprised at her words.

  “We are good together, Emma. We get each other,” he said and rubbed his thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek. He shifted it to her full lower lip and smoothed it across the soft edges of her mouth.

  “You think you know me –”

  “I do, Em. I know you,” he said to allay the sadness that had crept into her emerald eyes.

  “You only think you do.” She covered his hand with hers, turned her face just enough to drop a kiss on his palm. Then she gently eased his hand away and twined her fingers with his, giving him the courage to believe she wasn’t totally retreating from him.

  His crew came around to efficiently clean away the dishes and prep for the final service of the night. As they finished clearing the dinner plates, Tomás and Jesse wheeled the table with the multi-tiered wedding cake over from where it had been sitting by the front dais and the wedding singer announced that it was time for the cake cutting.

  Connie and Jonathan stepped down from the dais hand-in-hand, blissful smiles on their faces. As they reached the table, Jesse handed them the silver cake knife and the photographer and videographer swooped in to commemorate the event. Lights flashed as the first cut was made and after, as the cake was plated and the ecstatic couple fed each other.

  Carlo’s gut warmed at the thought of what would come next and the possibility that they’d have a repeat of what had happened at Maggie and Owen’s wedding several months earlier. As he glanced at Emma from the corner of his eye, he noted the pleased smile on her face.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

  With a chuckle, she said, “Never.” She arched a reddish blonde brow and added, “And you?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Never.”

  “Come on, Emma. It’s time for us single girls,” Tracy said and popped out of her chair, wobbling as she stood.

  Great, he thought and wondered how he’d take care of Tracy as well.

  Emma rose from her chair, locked her arms with Tracy, and the two women supported each other as they joined the group of single women on the dance floor. Connie pointed to both of them and winked, making it clear who she wanted to catch her bouquet. She turned, held the bouquet up in the air, and waved it mischievously, the ribbons on the bouquet dancing around her hand as she did so. The wedding singer began the countdown, and Emma and Tracy inched forward, allowing the rest of the women to shift to a better bouquet-catching spot.

  The countdown ended and Connie tossed the flowers up and over her head. The bouquet soared through the air, past Emma and Tracy and into the hands of two women. After a little tussle that sent some of the bouquet flowers scattering, one woman emerged victorious and waved the bouquet over her head in victory.

  Carlo breathed a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment. As Emma and Tracy returned to the dais, Emma peered at him and said, “It’s your turn now. Get up there.”

  He glared at her jokingly but did as she commanded. He watched as Jonathan teased Connie while he removed the garter. After he stood and waved it in the air, the groom pointed to him much like Connie had gestured to her friends earlier.

  “Who me?” he mimed and pointed at himself.

  Jonathan repeated his gesture and turned, but as he did so, Carlo moved as far off to the side as he could. The garter flew through air and straight at Paolo’s head as he walked by with a tray loaded with plates of cake slices. Somehow his brother managed to swat it away and over to one of the young men in the crowd of energetic garter seekers.

  Relief flooded him again and he hurried back to the dais. Emma smirked at him as he sat. “I saw you sneaking out of there,” she teased, steadier than she had been before.

  He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “And you avoided the toss like a champ.”

  A sharp burst of laughter escaped her. “I did, didn’t I? Maybe I prefer for our kiss to be more private.”

  He jerked as if she’d hit him and pulled back to gaze at her, surprised. “Our kiss? More private?”

  She smiled, her gaze clearer, and laid her fingers against his lips. “It is what you were hoping for, isn’t it?”

  He kissed the pads of her fingers, reached up, and grasped her hand gently. He ran his thumb across her knuckles and said, “I don’t lie, remember.”

  “So?” she pressed.

  “I want to kiss you in private. In public. I want to kiss you everywhere, Emma.”

  A wry smile lifted one side of the lips he so wanted to savor. “What’s stopping you?”

  Chapter 14

  Did I just say that? Emma thought and waited expectantly, her heart pounding so loudly she worried he might hear it.

  He squinted and considered her carefully. “Please tell me that’s not the champagne talking.”

  “You mean the cider you slipped me with dinner instead?” she said with an arch of a brow.

  A chagrined smirk erupted on his lips. The lips she so wanted against hers.

  “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he admitted and brushed back a few wayward strands of her hair that had worked free of the braid and floral headpiece at the crown of her head.

  “I’m not that drunk,” she shot back.

  “Just half-drunk? Maybe I should wait until you’re full sober for that kiss,” he said and raised her hand to brush a tender kiss across her knuckles.

  She hated that he was right. “M
aybe,” was all she could muster with a shrug and looked away from him.

  The heat of his breath spilled across the side of her face a second before he whispered a kiss across the sensitive skin there. A tease of what she could expect when they finally did whatever it was they were destined to do.

  But as much as she wanted tonight to lead to more, a part of her worried what that more might be and if she was truly ready for it. Which had her reaching for another glass of champagne as it came by rather than pushing it away. As she met Carlo’s gaze over the rim of the glass, she almost dared him to stop her, but he raised his own glass and tapped it to hers.

  She was about to take a sip when the band launched into a fast-paced salsa piece and Carlo rose and offered his hand to her.

  “Me?” she squeaked and shot a quick look at the dance floor where the newlyweds and several of Connie’s family were expertly moving to the beat.

  “You,” Carlo confirmed and wiggled his fingers in invitation.

  Tracy nudged her with her elbow. “Go. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

  Peering at the dancers, she thought it looked really hard and she wasn’t much of a dancer as she’d proven the night at the China Latino restaurant. But with Carlo waiting there, his gaze expectant, she couldn’t refuse.

  She slipped her hand into his and shot to her feet. At the edge of the dance floor, he took hold of her hands, leaned close and whispered, “It’s just an easy four/four beat.”

  Maybe it was only she couldn’t seem to think straight much less count out the beats with him so close. All she could think about was the feel of his calloused hand in hers and at her waist, guiding her. Strong hands, but so gentle at the same time. The smell of him enveloped her, something light and citrusy.

  As he stepped forward on the one beat, she stomped on his foot and mumbled an apology. He smiled and said, “Relax.”

  She found herself doing just the opposite, intently looking down at their feet and trying to count out the one-two-three and then rest beat in her head. As she trod on his foot again, she mumbled a curse.

  “Meu amor, look up. At me. You can do this,” he urged, the tone of his voice soft and soothing.

  Emma met his gaze and forced a smile. She wanted to relax and give herself over to the music but couldn’t when she was so hyper aware of everything about him. From the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes to the slight dimple in his right cheek as he smiled to the smooth way he moved his hips in time to the salsa beat. Everything about him was perfect, but as she mangled his foot once again, she realized she wasn’t.

  Disappointment slammed into her and in the back of her brain, she heard her father’s condemning voice telling her she wasn’t good enough. That she could never do anything right. Luckily the song ended at that moment with a loud crashing beat of the drums and she was able to make her escape, not that Carlo wasn’t wise enough to see her upset.

  “It’s okay, Em. You just need to trust your partner,” he said and rubbed her back as they sat at their table once again.

  She wanted to trust him about so much more than a salsa dance, but worried that maybe she never could and that if she did, she’d disappoint him anyway. Which had her reaching for her glass of champagne. She sipped the bubbly. Had a second and third glass but the liquor did nothing to improve her mood. It didn’t stop her from having more until her head was whirling and she cursed herself for not using better judgment. Especially as she rose to join everyone as they walked out to the front of the building where a limo waited to whisk Connie and Jonathan to a private jet waiting to fly them to a week’s honeymoon at a private tropical isle.

  She wobbled unsteadily and Carlo was immediately there, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as her newlywed friends waved to everyone and climbed into the car. As they walked back in, her high heeled shoes slipped on the snowy ground, but Carlo supported her. With the ocean nearby, snow rarely held on for long unless it was a major snowfall. But as she looked up at the night sky, the snow was still coming down.

  “So much for your radar and only flurries. It’s going to be a big one,” she said.

  “So much for science,” he said as he walked her back inside and to the dais. “Set yourself here while I see how we’re doing.”

  Since her head was whirling, she didn’t argue and plopped down beside Tracy who to her chagrin was way more sober. “Why did I do this?” she murmured and massaged her temples.

  “Because you’re afraid of what might have happened so now you’re going to take my advice,” Tracy said and took hold of Emma’s hands.

  Maggie came over and sat on her other side. Laid a hand on her thigh and said, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Just fine,” she said although she really wasn’t.

  “Maybe it’s time we took you home,” Maggie said, but Tracy held her hand up to silence her friend.

  “Carlo can take her home. It’s time for you and Owen to go home and I’m going back to my room at the inn,” Tracy said.

  “No way. Come on, Emma. We’ll take you home,” Maggie said, but Emma shook her head.

  “I’m okay. Besides, I’m the wedding planner, remember? I have to make sure Carlo and his people don’t need my help,” she reminded her friend, not that she could be much help in the condition she was in. But she had to try.

  Maggie and Tracy looked at one another, obviously doubtful of her claim, but then they relented.

  “You can go, Mags. I’ll stay with Emma until Carlo comes back,” Tracy said, but she didn’t have long to wait since a few minutes later, Carlo returned to the dais.

  “Everything okay?” Emma asked.

  “Totally under control. My brothers have things running smoothly and any breakdown we don’t finish tonight on account of the snow can be done in the morning,” he said and rubbed her shoulder in reassurance.

  She looked up him. “Are you sure?”

  He smiled supportively. “Never more sure. Let me take you home.”

  She relented and rose slowly, mindful of every action and step to try and convince everyone that she was okay. Only she wasn’t on so many levels.

  Maggie and Tracy walked with her to the doors leading to the parking lot where they’d left their cars earlier that day in anticipation of the end of the night. Owen joined them by the door and hugged Maggie to him.

  “Ready?” Owen asked and kissed his wife’s temple.

  Maggie risked a quick glance at Emma who nodded. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she said and hugged the couple.

  “We’ll drive you to the inn,” Owen said to Tracy and her friends were soon on their way, leaving her with Carlo.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” Emma said and leaned into him for support. Together they slogged through the snow that had started to accumulate in the hour or so while the guests had been partaking of the dessert table and hot beverages after Connie and Jonathan had left. More than once her shoes slipped on a wet patch, but luckily Carlo was there. He bundled her into his van and in no time they were on their way to her house which was only a few blocks away. In truth, had the weather been better, she might have walked the short distance to clear her head, but the quickly falling snow had made that impossible.

  Carlo pulled his van into her driveway and she said, “Thank you. I appreciate you driving me back.”

  “I’ll see you in,” he said, but she waved off his offer.

  “No need. I’m okay.” Although she was a little woozy, the effects of the champagne had started to wear off.

  “I’ll see you in, Emma. Don’t argue with me,” he said and before she could protest again, he’d charged out of the car and walked around to open her door. He offered his assistance and seeing the glower on his face, she didn’t argue.

  She took hold of his hand and stepped out of the vehicle. The ground was slick beneath her feet and he once again provided stability until they were comfortably inside the warmth
of her cottage. As she turned to face him, her wet soles slid awkwardly on her wooden floor, but his powerful arms were around her, keeping her upright.

  “Let’s get you settled,” he said and once again she didn’t fight with him maybe because a big part of her wanted him to stay, even if she was still unsure of whether it made sense to move their relationship to the next level. He walked her to her bedroom and over to the bed. Whirling on one foot, he presented his broad back to her to give her a chance at modesty, and said, “Get tucked in and I’ll go.”

  She stared at him as he stood there, rocking back and forth on his heels, obviously uneasy. But was his unease about staying or going? she wondered because it mirrored her own emotions.

  “What if I don’t want you to go?” she said, her voice unsteady.

  CARLO STOOD STOCK STILL, processing her words over and over. How many times had he wished for a moment quite like this and yet, not like this with her not really herself.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said as he heard the rustle of fabric that warned that she was getting undressed. To keep from turning to look at her, he focused on the wall in front of him with its feminine wallpaper of pink roses in a stripe pattern.

  “You said to trust you. I do,” she said, her words still a little slurry and accompanied by yet more rustling. The bedspread he hoped as he peered over his shoulder and found her with the covers tucked up to her chin, her arms and shoulders bare.

  His cock twitched and tightened at the thought of her all bare beneath the bedspread.

  “I should go,” he said, but her words came again, blurred with sleep this time.

  “Please stay.”

  “I warned you before, Emma. I’m not a saint,” he replied and waited for her response, but all that followed was a long inhale and a soft snore.

  He turned to find her fast asleep, one hand tucked up to her cheek and the other spread out on the empty space beside her, as if she was reaching for something. Someone. Him.

  His brain told him to go. That nothing good could come of his staying.