“I’ll get it.” Ava pushed her chair back. When I made a move to protest, she shook her head slightly and bolted for the kitchen.
“Sorry I was late. I was expecting for a few last minute calls, but I think you’ll find it was worth the wait.” He reached into the slim brown briefcase on his lap. “Liam, I’ve been making calls since we spoke yesterday, and I’ve got it all set up.” Ava returned with his cup and set it down on the table. “Thank you, my dear.” He looked around the table, and I knew he was timing it all for effect. My father was ever the consummate politician.
“How would you two feel about getting married at the National Cathedral in D.C., with your reception at the Mayflower Hotel? I’ve set it up for early June next year. It’s a done deal.” He sat back, smiling as though he’d just presented us with the answer to peace in the Middle East.
Ava’s eyes were wide as they met mine. I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Dad, we were just telling Mom and Ava’s parents that we’ve decided on everything we want. I appreciate you going to so much trouble, but I wish you hadn’t.”
Dad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “What more could you want? Getting married at the most famous church in our nation’s capitol and celebrating at the most exclusive hotel in the city? It’s going to be huge. The press coverage—”
“No.” Ava ground out the word. “No. Liam doesn’t want that, and neither do I.”
My father glowered. “With all due respect, Ava, you don’t speak for my son. He knows that this type of event is a huge PR opportunity. My son’s not going to slink off to get married in some backwater town, even if he is marrying—” He dropped his eyes, but his mouth curled in derision.
“This is not a PR opportunity, Dad. It’s our wedding, and we’re doing it our way. You can shut up and listen, or you can get the hell out. But I’m going to remind you that if you can’t show my fiancée the respect she deserves, you won’t be included in any of it. We asked you here today because Ava thinks our wedding can be a family affair without people at each other’s throats. And by that, of course, I mean you and Mom. But if you can’t handle it, there’s the door. Use it.” I pointed toward the living room.
“Liam, don’t be stupid.”
“Edward, shut the hell up.” My mother stood up, her hands fisted at her sides. “You’re going to ruin all of this. You can’t help it, I guess. Everything you touch becomes sordid and nasty. You’re not going to push our son away. Not from me, anyway.” She moved her gaze to Ava. “Ava, why don’t you tell us all what you and Liam have decided?”
Ava nodded. “Um, all right. Well, we’ve set the date.” She smiled at me, her first genuine one of the day. “December 21st.”
“Of this year?” My father’s voice was incredulous.
“That’s a perfect wedding date. I love it. I can work with that.” Giff beamed at us.
“Right before Christmas. Oh, Ava, the church’ll be beautiful.” Mrs. DiMartino clasped her hands and then backtracked. “I mean . . . if you decide to get married in the church.”
“We are. We thought we’d have Father Byers come up and marry us at St. Thomas’s. I called him yesterday, and he’s free that day. Well, actually night. We want to have a candlelight ceremony at the church, and then if it’s okay with you, we’d like to have the reception at the restaurant.”
“Our restaurant?” Ava’s father looked as though he might explode with happiness. His eyes were bright, crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “Of course it’s okay! More than okay. If that’s what you really want, I mean.”
“It is.” I added my voice. “On two conditions: as long as it won’t be too much work for you, and if we can clear space to dance.”
“That we can definitely do.” Mrs. DiMartino turned to Ava. “We could do a penne in blush sauce, as one of the entrees, and maybe caponata for an appetizer.”
“We can talk menu later, Ma.” Ava grinned. “But I want to ask Vincent to make the cake.”
“He’ll be so thrilled. Okay, what else?”
I sat forward and snagged a piece of bacon. “Guest list kept to 70 people. We’ll try to have some flexibility about it, but we want to keep it around that number.”
“That’s going to cut out a lot of the family.” Ava’s mother frowned.
“Liam, I’ll have that many just from our friends.” My mother touched my arm. “It’s not a realistic number.”
“It is, because that’s what we want. Most of your friends haven’t seen me in years. I wouldn’t know them if I fell over them. Close family and close friends only.”
My father steepled his fingers and pursed his lips but remained silent. Ava took over where I’d left off. “We want a traditional Catholic service. At the reception, we want food and dancing, but none of the big rituals. We’ll cut the cake together, but no bouquet or garter toss. And no DJ. We’ll just have music playing.” She turned to Giff. “Do you think Jeff would take pictures for us? I know it’s a hobby for him, but I love his work.”
“I’m sure I can work something out.” Giff tapped his bottom lip with one finger. “Is there going to be anything for me to do?’
I laughed. “Most definitely. You’re the coordinator. You make it all happen, so Ava and I don’t have to worry about anything.”
He closed his eyes and made a fist. “Yes! My favorite words in the whole world. ‘Make it all happen.’ That I can do.”
“So you’re doing everything with Ava’s family?” My mom was unhappy, without a doubt. “What about us? Will there be a rehearsal dinner? Or are your father and I to have no part in this at all?”
“Calm down, Mom. We don’t want a rehearsal dinner, or at least nothing formal. Maybe we can just do desserts or something the night before the wedding. But Ava and I talked about it, and if you want to throw us an engagement party—a small one—that’s okay.”
Mom nodded slowly. “I can do that.” With no small difficulty, she glanced at my father. “Edward, would you like to co-host the engagement party with me?”
“This whole thing is ridiculous.” My father stood, shoving back his chair. “Do you know how it’s going to look, my only son getting married in a Catholic church in some obscure little town? Have you thought about what people will think?”
“I assume they’ll think we’re having the wedding we wanted, but frankly, Dad, I don’t give a damn. And if you cared so much about what people think or about your image, maybe you shouldn’t have been screwing two other women when you were married to my mother.” I kept it as PG as I could, but anger was growing within me exponentially. I wanted to hit someone . . . preferably my father. Out of deference to Ava’s parents, I held back.
“That’s it.” He threw down his napkin. “Do whatever the hell you want. Fuck up your life. Tie yourself down to this—this girl. Just don’t expect me to stand by smiling like an idiot, pretending I approve.”
“Out.” I growled through gritted teeth. “Get out of my house, now. I don’t ever want to see you again, and if you get any where near Ava or our wedding, I’ll make you sorry you did.”
There was one silent beat, when I wasn’t sure if my father was going to speak again or not. And then he kicked away his chair and stalked out of the dining room. A few seconds later, we heard the door slam so hard the entire wall reverberated with the sound.
I sat down, dropping my head onto hands. A headache pounded in my brain. “I’m sorry about that. I never should’ve invited him today.”
“Liam.” My mother’s hand touched my arm. “You did the right thing. Both in including him today and in tossing him out. You gave him a chance, and no one can fault you for that.”
“Your mother’s right.” Mr. DiMartino’s voice was gruff. “He’s your father, no matter what, and you owe him respect. But I’m not going to lie. I’m proud you stood up against him for my daughter just now. That’s how a man behaves.”
His wife cleared her throat. “Don’t you worry about it, sweetie. You did nothing wrong.”
Ava slid her hand over my thigh, squeezing. “Thank you, babe. I’m sorry you had to do that.”
I covered her fingers with mine, lacing them together. “Always. You know that. You come before anything else.”
“Well.” Mrs. DiMartino slid her chair back, standing up. “I think we’d better head back home, don’t you, Anthony? We left Frankie with Carl and Ange, and we don’t want to wear her out so close to her due date. She gets tired so easy now.” She picked up her plate. “Ava, let me help you clean up.”
“I’ll help her.” To my shock, my mother stood up, too. She glanced almost shyly between Ava and her mother. “You need to go home. I’ll stay and clean up. We can talk about the engagement party.”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then Mrs. DiMartino moved to hug my mother. “Thank you for that. Yes, make the plans, and tell me if there’s anything you need. Give us the date, and we’ll be there.”
Ava’s parents both hugged us as they left, and then we were alone with my mother, who efficiently cleared the table and rinsed plates. I stayed out of the way, returning to the dining room.
“Beetle, you were magnificent.” Giff offered me his fist to bump. “The way you stood up to the Senator . . .” He shook his head. “It made me go all warm and gooey inside.”
“Thanks. I wish I hadn’t had to do it. I wish he hadn’t said that shit.”
“Yeah, I know. I get it. But you did good. Now, if you think you’re safe with the women in there, I’m heading home to see if Jeff’s up yet. We’re supposed to drive into the city to have dinner with Amanda tonight.”
“Have fun. Tell Jeff we missed him this morning, but I don’t blame him for wanting to skip out on the drama. Oh, do me a favor and let Amanda know about the engagement, okay? I don’t want her mad at me, too.” Amanda was a long-time family friend who Giff and I’d gone to school with. She’d graduated from University of Pennsylvania the same year we’d finished at Birch, and she was nearly done with law school now. We’d never been more than friends, but since her mother was also in politics, we’d been thrown together at events for years. She and Ava’d become buddies, too, over the last few years.
“Will do. Which reminds me. If Mama Bailey’s throwing the engagement bash, you need to get an announcement into the papers, pronto. Let me know if you need me to do it. I have contacts.”
I groaned. “Really? We have to do that? Are there even newspapers around anymore? I thought everything was on-line now.”
“Yes, you have to do it, yes, there are still newspapers . . . and yes, they have on-line components, too. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’ll take care of writing it, and I’ll shoot it over to Ava to approve.”
I punched his shoulder. “Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.”
“Any time. I’ll be by this week for us to hammer out the rest of the wedding details.”
I wrinkled my brow. “I thought that’s what we just did?”
Giff laughed. “Oh, buddy, not hardly. You laid the framework, but we need to figure out attendants, colors, flowers, times, invitations . . . we’ve only just begun, to quote a sentimental wedding fave.”
I sighed. “What happened to our simple, quiet wedding?”
Giff winked at me as he headed for the door. “You’ll get it, no worries. But for that to happen, I need to work my magic. Do you trust me?”
“I feel like I’m going to regret saying this, but yes, I do. I think.”
“No regrets, my friend.” He stepped outside and then paused to look back at me. “Just let it happen.”
129 days to W Day
“WELL, IF IT ISN’T my own personal stalker.”
I glanced up from the menu in front of me and smiled. Julia sauntered to the table and leaned down to hug me as she spoke.
“If you returned phone calls or texts, I wouldn’t have to stalk you.” I pretended to be mad, but it didn’t work. I was too happy to see my friend again.
“Sorry about that. We got back from Hawaii, and it was just insane. Between trying to get the new house in shape, dealing with stuff at work, and Jesse starting his job . . . I’ve hardly had time to breathe. I kept meaning to call you, but once I’d have time, it’d be almost midnight.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we finally made time to get together.” I pointed to the chair across from me, using my left hand. “Sit down so we can order. I’m starved.”
“Me, too.” Julia was oblivious, apparently, to the ring on my hand. She scanned the menu. “I know I should have the salad, but I really want the burger. And the fries.”
I laughed. “Well, wedding boot camp is over, right? So you can afford to indulge a little.”
Jules puffed out her cheeks. “I did nothing but indulge for ten days on my honeymoon.”
“But did you have a good time?” I leaned forward, my hands folded beneath my chin, left hand slightly forward.
“Oh, I did.” She dropped the menu and fell back in her chair. “You have no idea. After all the stress of the wedding, it was like heaven to just lie on the beach, drink as many frou-frou drinks as I wanted . . . oh, and Jesse surprised me with a day at the spa. I had a massage, a mud bath and a facial. And we went snorkeling, and we hiked a little, too. Ave, I didn’t want to come home. I’m still scheming how we can move there.”
“I bet. So do you notice anything—”
“Good afternoon, ladies. What can I get you to drink?” The waiter stood next to us, smiling.
“Just water for me, please.” I bit back a sigh of impatience.
“Same here. Can we order our food now, too? I only have a little while for lunch.”
“Sure.” He took out his pad and held the pencil poised above it. “What’ll you have?”
Julia gave into temptation and ordered the burger and fries. I behaved and asked for a salad, dressing on the side.
“Trying to make me feel bad?” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“No. Remember, I’m not blessed with tall, thin genes. I need to fight the battle of the bulge. Besides, I have a big event coming up, and I want to look good.”
“Really? Oh, is that the big party for work? Giff mentioned he was planning something for one of your clients.”
“Yeah, he is. But no, I was thinking of something in December.”
“That’s months away. You have plenty of time, and besides, Ave, you always look good.”
I rolled my eyes. “I need to look especially good for this event. It’s a huge deal. Like, life changing.” Giving up on subtlety, I held out my hand, palm down, and waved it around.
Julia’s eyes grew round, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, my God, Ava! Is that . . . it is! Oh my God, when did this happen?” She seized my fingers. “What a beautiful ring. Oh, Ava.”
She covered her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks. I fought back my own. No one ever cried alone around me. “Liam proposed the morning after your wedding. It was such a surprise, but Jules, I’m so happy. I can’t even tell you.”
“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me? It’s been a month!”
I tugged my hand loose. “Because you were on your honeymoon, and besides, I wanted to tell you in person. That’s why I was so persistent this week, wanting to get together. The announcement’s going to be in the newspapers this weekend, and Liam’s mom is sending out invitations to our engagement party next week.”
Julia raised one eyebrow. “Mrs. Bailey’s giving you an engagement party?”
I shrugged. “Long story, but yeah. It’s going to be at Stefano’s down here.”
“Not at their house? I’m surprised she agreed to that.”
“There’s been a lot of compromise going around lately. Liam asked her to have it closer to us so that we can invite our friends. And he didn’t want it anywhere near his father, either. Things aren’t going well there.” I filled her in on the brunch debacle.
“What a jerk.” Julia shook her head. “I’m proud of Liam for standing up to him, though. I never thought
he had it in him. So you gave up a chance to get married in D.C among the political big shots?”
I shuddered. “Wasn’t much of a choice. We know what we want. So it’s December 21st, in Seagrove.”
Julia clapped her hands. “I can’t wait. I’ll be there with bells on.”
I leaned forward. “I hope you’ll be there with a bridesmaid dress on. Will you?”
“Ooooh, I was hoping you were going to ask! Are you having a big wedding party?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “You and Angela as bridesmaids, and Frankie as a flower girl. Liam’s having Giff as best man—he swears he can handle both coordinating and best manning—and my brothers as groomsmen. That’s it.”
“What colors are we wearing?”
“Since there’s just the three of you, I figured you could pick out whatever dress you like, and so can Ange. Something Christmasy, you know? Maybe a deep green, or burgundy. We’ll talk as it gets closer.”
Julia sighed, a dreamy smile on her lips. “Sounds perfect. And what about you? Have you gone dress shopping yet?”
I made a face. “No, but not for lacking of my mother trying. She keeps sending me links to dresses. We’re supposed to go after the engagement party. I want something simple. Too much lace and too many ruffles would drown me.”
“True. Something classic . . . maybe strapless . . . I mean, if I had boobs like you, I’d totally go strapless.”
“Thanks. I think.” Our food arrived, and I dug into my salad. “So are you enjoying married life?”
“I really am.” Julia’s smile turned sappy. “I know we’ve lived together for a few years, and it shouldn’t feel that different, but now that we’re official, and moved into our own house, it feels different, you know? And every time someone calls me Mrs. Fleming, I want to giggle. I love it.”
“I’m glad. I’m happy for you. You and Jesse are a perfect couple.”
Julis picked up one of her fries, examining it thoughtfully. “Jesse and I are meant for each other. But we’re not perfect. No one is.” She raised her eyes to mine. “Jesse told me, after the wedding was over, what happened with my mother. What she said to you. I’m so sorry, Ave. She had no right. You have to believe I don’t have a problem with Liam.”
I Choose You (Perfect Dish Romances Book 3) Page 11