Hard Pass (Saints of Love Book 3)

by Elizabeth Perry

  I glance at the clock, noting that it’s quarter to five. Vitale’s is a good thirty-minute drive from our house, and that’s only if traffic isn’t a bitch. Since it’s rush hour, I’m going to have to drive like an ass to make it on time.

  “What’s going on at Vitale’s?” I’d be lying if I said that my interest wasn’t peaked. The idea of dinner alone with Gia sounds pretty fucking amazing.

  “Well, BJ’s Italian, so his mother is adamant that we have a full course Italian meal for the wedding.” She zips her lunch box shut and slings her purse over her shoulder. “We have a reservation at six to try out the food. We had to book two weeks ago, and if I push it out any longer, I’m going to screw myself. Can you please go? I trust your opinion on food. And of course, if you have any questions, just refer them to Gia.”

  “So, you want me to go and eat dinner with your wedding planner?” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Is this your way of trying to set me up so that you don’t feel so guilty about ditching out on me?”

  Willow rolls her eyes.

  “No.” She moves towards the door, flinging it open and hurrying out. “I love you, Wyatt, but the last thing that Gia needs is to get mixed up with someone like you. No offense.”

  The door slams shut before I can even respond.

  14

  Gia

  “Miss Gia.” Ureche Vitale greets me at the door with a huge smile and a kiss on each cheek. “I have certainly missed seeing your beautiful face, mi amour.”

  He leads me to the back room, past the rest of the guests, to a private seating area where my clients and I are granted privacy. Over the years, I’ve done business with him many times, and as a result, whenever I call him, he does his best to accommodate my clients along with me. Often times, my clients are famous in their own rights, and prefer not to have an audience while they sample food for their big days. It’s one of the reasons that I steer my clients to this restaurant.

  I arrived earlier than I expected, since the traffic God’s were shining down on me today. We chat for a while, catching up since it’s been a solid nine months since I’ve seen him. Most of the time, when people ask me about the things that I’ve been through over the last year, I try to avoid the subject, knowing that they are only asking for their own amusement. It’s not like that with Ureche. He’s someone who actually cares.

  “I’m so sorry, Gia.” His eyes cast down. “I knew that man was trouble. I noticed it the moment the three of you sat right here, in this room. God knows.” He assures me. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

  “I know.” In fact, I’m counting on it. He’ll have the entire after life to pay for his sins.

  “It’s good to have you back. Our catering sales have decreased significantly since last summer.”

  “I’m not officially back,” I warn him. “I had already agreed to auction off my services at Delilah’s school bazaar prior to all of this. The wedding that I’m planning is a result of the auction.”

  “Oh, you’ll be back.” He beams. “I can already see it in your eyes. This is where you’re meant to be. Doing this job, making your clients’ wedding dreams come true. It’s your calling. You’ll see. It’s just like riding a bike.”

  Perhaps. We’ll see how the rest of the year plays out.

  He fills three wine glasses, one for me, one for Willow and one for her fiancé BJ, and then sets the rest of the bottle on the table. The candle is lit, the lights are dimmed, and I’m left with nothing to do but wait. It’s just after six o’clock when I hear the door to the room open. As I glance up, I can hardly believe my eyes.

  I rise to my feet, greeting my single dinner partner, my mouth dropping open. The second that the door closes behind him, my body becomes acutely aware of his presence. I inhale sharply, and then immediately regret it. The scent of his cologne invades my nostrils, wreaking havoc on my system. My senses are alarming, my brain in panic mode. My eyes shamelessly rake over him before I can get a handle on my emotions. That’s when the ache between my legs turns into a pulsating throb.

  Of course, he’s dressed to kill, in a crisp gray suit with a pale blue shirt, one that makes his eyes sparkle against his tanned skin. His hair is slicked off to the side, styled for once, and his lips are turned into a slick smirk, the one telling me that he sees the way that I’m checking him out, and he approves. I force my eyes away, my words stammering from my lips.

  “What are you doing here? Where is Willow?”

  Wyatt moves towards me, like a predator stalking his prey, avoiding my question while his eyes fixate on my dress. I watch as his lips part and his chest heaves as he takes a deep breath. The blacks of his eyes dilate, as he focuses on the scoop neck of my white dress.

  “Fuck, Princess.” He mutters, running his hand down his face as he sighs. “Just when I think you can’t possibly get any hotter, you prove me wrong. This is becoming a real problem”

  I could say the same thing about him. I move my legs, pressing my thighs together in effort to calm the ache that has now taken over my body, swallowing down past the lump forming in my throat. This is too much.

  I’ve maneuvered all of the mine shafts that have been thrown at me where Wyatt is concerned, but tonight might just be the one that causes me to blow. There is no way that I can sit here in this room, all alone with him. Especially not over a candlelight dinner.

  He takes a few steps towards me, and as he does, the tension between us only builds. For a moment, I think that he’s going to touch me, and briefly, I wonder if I’ll be able to resist him. Nine years is a hell of a long time, but obviously not long enough to break the ties that this man still has on my heart.

  My breathing increases as he reaches forward. But then his hands rest on my chair, which he pulls out for me and motions for me to sit.

  “Damn, Gia.” He mutters as I sink into the chair, barely managing to pull myself together. “I don’t bite. I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

  “You?” I scoff, running my sweaty palms down my dress just to keep them from reaching out for him. “A gentleman? Hardly.”

  He rolls his eyes, steadily breaking the tense mood before pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. “I have a lot of gentlemanly ways, Princess. If you’d let me, I’d be happy to show you.”

  “Again, hard pass.” I grab my wine glass and polish it off in a few gulps. If I have any chance of making it through this night, I’m going to need a lot more of this.

  He gets this faraway expression on his face, and his gaze lowers. “Fine. Have it your way. We’ll sit here like two strangers and pick menu items for my sister’s wedding.”

  “Where is your sister? I was supposed to be meeting with her and her fiancé tonight.”

  “Both she and BJ got called to the hospital for an emergency,” he explains, the corners of his lips tipping up into a smile. “So, you’re stuck with me tonight, Princess. Me, minus my gentleman qualities, since you aren’t interested in those.”

  I roll my eyes, as some of the tension starts to drift away. Ureche returns a few moments later, glancing at me curiously as his eyes adjust to Wyatt.

  “Ureche,” I motion to Wyatt. “This is Wyatt, the bride’s older brother. His sister is a doctor, she was called into the hospital for an emergency. He will be the one helping pick the menu items. Wyatt, this is Ureche. He’s the owner of Vitale’s.”

  The two chat for a moment, and I fight an eyeroll at the pleased look on Wyatt’s face as recognition dawns with Ureche and he fans over him like a lovestruck schoolgirl. Wyatt orders a beer, and once it’s delivered, we’re right back to where we started, all alone, trapped inside of this room.

  “We could have rescheduled, you know.” I glance nervously across the table, careful not to let my eyes feast on him for too long. “This is really something that the bride should be present for.”

  “I know, but she didn’t want to. Willow asked me to come because she trusts my judgement. Food just so happens to be one of my specialties.”r />
  I swap my empty wine glass out with one of the ones still filled, and sip it slowly, allowing the warm liquid to help calm me down. This is just dinner with a client, I try to remind myself. There’s no need to get all worked up over it. We’ll sample some food, pick a menu, and then I’ll leave. It will be simple. So damn simple.

  Except, nothing with Wyatt has ever been simple, and I’m a fool to consider otherwise.

  “Fine.” I set my glass down, finally getting a hold of myself enough to speak. “But if I don’t agree with your decisions, I get to veto you. That’s the only way that this works.”

  “Works for me.” He shrugs. “But I think you’ll be impressed with my taste.”

  “I highly doubt it.” I run through my memory reel of all of the times that Wyatt has proved his taste shitty. I could point out some moments, but I choose not to. That would open myself up to the part of my life where I actually stalked his name in the news. Of course, all of those times were during weak moments in my life.

  Right after I had Delilah, I suffered some postpartum depression. Nothing as severe as some of the women that I’ve read about, but severe enough that I spent a lot of my days in bed crying. My ex-husband has always been a good dad to our daughter, but he has never been all that empathetic towards me. He couldn’t wrap his head around how I could adore our daughter and yet spend all of my time bawling my eyes out.

  When I realized that I wasn’t going to get any sympathy from him, my mind shifted to Wyatt. I spent way too many hours searching his name, looking at all of the pictures that scattered the internet of him. Countless times, I saw the same trend. Wyatt partying. Wyatt with a gorgeous blond on his arm. Wyatt, living his best life, while my heart was still bleeding over him. Same trend, new day.

  He disregarded me in the past. I’ll be damned if I let myself fall back into that trap with him again. I straighten in my chair, composing myself. As luck would have it, Ureche picks that exact moment to enter with a tray of food. I’m thankful for the distraction.

  A bottle of prosecco and two fresh wine glasses are set on the table. He pours a small amount into each glass and places them in front of us.

  “For the reception, there will be plenty of time to enjoy the Aperitivo, but today we’ll skip right to the antipasti.” He claps his hands together, and a waiter wearing all white approaches. When he reaches our table, he nods his head between the two of us, and sets a small charcuterie platter between us. My mouth waters at the mixture of cheese, bread, and prosciutto. Ureche smiles at the expression on my face, knowing that charcuterie boards are my favorite thing about this place. I really hope that Wyatt chooses these. Another waiter pops up on the other side of us, setting a dish of bruschetta down in front of me and tuna antipasto down in front of Wyatt. His nose immediately wrinkles.

  “Tuna?” He pushes the platter towards me. “I’m not even trying that one. We can cross it right off of the list.”

  “You’re worse than a child.” I roll my eyes. “You’re hating on it because of the way that it looks. It’s actually delicious.”

  “No.” He smirks. “I’m hating on it because I hate tuna, and because Willow has a seafood allergy. There shall be no fish at her reception.”

  “Fair enough.” I push the plate away and focus on the other two appetizers. Wyatt helps himself and moans over the crunchy bread, meat and cheese on the platter. I nibble on the bruschetta while he samples both platters before finally pointing to the first.

  “She’d like this one. She’s a meat and cheese kind of girl.”

  “Perfect.” I nod. “That would have been my choice too.”

  He gobbles down the rest of the appetizer, while I sit back and sip my wine. I’ve sat through enough of these to know not to fill up on the first round of food. There is always a lot more to come.

  “Save room.” I nod towards the kitchen. “There are seven more courses left to come.”

  “Seven?” His eyes light up. “And Willow asked me to do her a favor. Between this food and your gorgeous self, this is a total win in my book.”

  Despite the promise that I made to myself not to stroll back down memory lane, I glance up at him and smile. “Some things never change, huh? Trust me, even you will be stuffed by the time that you leave here. Your sister did you a huge favor.”

  “That she did.” He agrees, but as he stares at me across the table, something shifts in the air between us. It’s subtle, and frankly, I can’t put my finger on what it is. But it’s there, and it’s written clearly in his eyes.

  “You haven’t aged a bit, you know that? Every time I look at you, I swear to God, Gia. I feel like I’m eighteen all over again.” The way his eyes roam over me, sends shivers down my spine. “You are still, all these years later, the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Now I know that you’re full of shit.” I roll my eyes, trying to lighten the mood and ignore the heat rushing through me. “I’ve seen the women that you date, Wyatt. There isn’t enough plastic surgery in the world to make me into that.”

  “Cut that shit out.” He mutters, leaning forward on his elbows. “Your beauty is so fucking rare. It’s the kind that women like that pay for, Princess. You’re stunning. Own that shit.”

  If I were as stunning as he proclaims, then explain to me how he up and left me, breaking my fucking heart as if I didn’t mean a thing to him. But I don’t say that-there’s no point. Talking about the past is a surefire way make this night even more uncomfortable than it already is. As luck would have it, the waiter appears again on one side of the table, setting four small bowls of soup on the table, along with two dishes of Risotto, and a small platter of gnocchi. Ureche follows along behind the waiter and points to the food.

  “Primi is the third step in the traditional meal.” He’s talking directly to Wyatt, because this is something that I already know. “Your Secondi choices will be served in just a few moments.”

  I turn my attention to the food, sampling a bite of soup and tasting a spoonful of Risotto. I pass on the gnocchi, since dumplings aren’t my favorite. Wyatt gobbles down every last bite of it all.

  “Well,” he chuckles, scanning his empty dishes, “that’s going to be a tough choice. I loved them all.”

  “Everything here is delicious,” I agree. “But if you’re struggling to choose, I recommend choosing the soup. We can choose two and serve cups of each, or just pick one and serve a bowl. That’s really up to you.”

  He debates for just a few moments before finally deciding to go with just one option. As luck would have it, he chooses the traditional Italian wedding soup.

  Our entrees are served next, and after that, we’re left alone for quite some time. With the waiter and Ureche out of sight, the conversation yet again shifts back to a place where I’m not comfortable. I’d much prefer some distraction.

  “So, that night…”

  Everything inside of me freezes. My fork pauses a few inches from my mouth, as I wait with bated breath to see where he’s going with this. When it comes to the history of Wyatt and I, starting off with that night could mean anything. It could be the night that he left me, the night that he broke my heart, the night that he first told me he loved me, only to take it back the very next day. I’m just about to interrupt him, and shift the conversation in another direction, when he rushes on.

  “That night at the school, the women that I was sitting next to kept talking about you. I didn’t know that it was you that they were referring to yet, but the things that they said were so shitty. What in the hell happened, Gia? Why do those women hate you so much?”

  While this is definitely a touchy subject, frankly, it’s the least sensitive one that he could have brought up. Normally I’d pause, and brush over the subject, but if it keeps his mind on the present and not the past, I call it a win.

  “First of all, those women hate themselves.” He’s no longer eating, just leaning back in his chair and listening to me intently. “They’re all bored housewi
ves, desperate for a scandal. I just happened to give them one.”

  The wine has loosened me up, and the second that I open my mouth, the entire story starts to tumble out, rapid fire, leaving me helpless at trying to stop it.

  “A little over a year ago, I was at the height of my career. I was so busy, in fact, that a few years prior, I had hired an assistant, Angela. I was booked out for three years. I was making more money planning parties, primarily weddings, than I ever imagined possible. Suddenly, my little side gig had become a full-time career, and I was loving every minute of it. I wrote a book on party planning, which became an immediate best seller. I had paid off my mansion in the hills and was making double what Cole was as an attorney.”

  Wyatt smirks at this which doesn’t go unnoticed. But he keeps his mouth shut, not mentioning anything about Cole, thankfully.

  “Last summer, I was approached by a couple, an athlete and his fiancé.” The second that his mouth opens, I wave my hand. “I’m not giving any more detail than that, because there’s no point. Anyways, like your sister, they were planning a wedding in just a few months, and offered me a large sum of money to squeeze them into my schedule. I was already pressed for time, and my family life was hurting as a result. My marriage was already rocky, but shifting even more of my focus to my business really put us over the edge.”

  I swallow hard, trying to muster up the courage to get the words out. “I started to notice that the groom was contacting me more frequently than necessary. At a few of our meetings, he would show up alone, without his fiancé, and eventually, he…” As I search for the words, I hear Wyatt shift in his seat. As my eyes lock with his, I see the anger simmering inside of his eyes.