Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“If I make it through the wedding without throwing up all over my dress, then I’ll be impressed.”

Raising an eyebrow, he uses his commanding voice to tell my stomach, “You hear that? The expectations for your behavior have been set. I’m not a man who likes being disappointed.”

I smile helplessly, shoving his shoulder. “I don’t think the baby’s ears even work yet.”

“That’s no excuse,” he states, reaching down to massage my tummy with his fingers.

I sigh happily, leaning my head against his chest. I know he’s a weird robot about pregnancy, but I’m so excited to be doing this with him, regardless of the biology involved.

Unfortunately, the baby is apparently not excited about this newest command and rebels hard. I have to rip back the blankets and sprint to make it to the toilet.

When I stand, grimacing, Mateo is leaning in the doorway. He looks sexy as all get-out, even with the unimpressed, knowing look on his face. “Maybe it is a boy, after all.”

—

“For the love of God, you have enough pictures.”

“Don’t listen to her,” I tell Francesca, as she continues to point her phone at me while a make-up artist makes me pretty. “There can never be enough pictures.”

Meg shakes her head, looking at the clock overhead. “We’re fifteen minutes behind schedule. There are eight million Morellis assembled in the other room—it’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I need sprinklers just to walk down the aisle.”

I fail to suppress a grin, even if the make-up artist gives me a dirty look for it. “Well, if you’re feeling all hot and bothered after the Morelli parade, Rafe is in town tonight.”

“Shut up,” Meg says, rolling her eyes.

Francesca’s eyebrows rise and she looks back at Meg. “Rafe Morelli? My cousin, Rafe?”

“That’s the one,” I confirm.

Francesca sighs. “Why can’t you bang someone else’s family members? God. I’m never getting rid of you.”

Meg grins, taking a seat and watching Francesca frame up another picture. “That’s right, bitch; better get used to me.”

“If I’m not by now, it’s never going to happen,” Francesca states.

They bicker, but it’s mostly playful at this point. Francesca got over most of her Meg hatred once she saw Mateo and I were happy, even with Meg included in our relationship. She thought it was incredibly weird, but as long as we were happy, she didn’t care. Now Meg is safely outside of our relationship, so Francesca minds her even less.

“I’m gonna convince Mateo to move Rafe here,” I decide.

“No,” Meg says, firmly. “Don’t you dare. Rafe is awful.”

My head snaps in her direction. “What? No, he is not.”

“He is!” she insists, eyes widening. “You try to take the guy out for some casual fun and he wants to peer into your soul. What is that?”

My poor makeup artist yanks my face forward again. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry,” I murmur. Still, I address Meg, “You’re nuts. Rafe likes vulnerable women; he was just trying to get a little peek. A little something-something to get him going.”

“Ew,” Meg says. “Vulnerability is gross. He’s gross, with his stupid face and his stupid… grossness.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I inform her. “You can’t fall in love if you’re not willing to be vulnerable.”

“False. I’ve done it before.”

“Yeah? How’d that work out for you?” I shoot back.

“Touché,” Francesca volunteers.

“I’m just saying, let yourself live a little.” I try to look over at her again, but the stylist anticipates my move and glares me half to death. “It’s not that scary.”

Meg pauses pointedly, then says, “Oh, I’m sorry, were you still talking? I’ve trained myself not to hear bullshit anymore.”

Francesca smirks, coming around to snap a picture of my face. “In that case, it must be like Mateo doesn’t even exist to you now.”

Meg snorts. “Okay, that was good.”

Also true. She doesn’t know how true, but there’s no reason she ever needs to. I can’t even imagine how she would feel if she ever heard what he said to me the night of my bridal shower.

But hey, maybe Rafe can sweep her off her feet. She definitely wouldn’t have met him if Mateo hadn’t dragged her into his life, so maybe it can pay off for her in more ways than it has.

Francesca shrugs her shoulders, looking a little giddy. “Oh, my god, Mia, you look like such a bride.”

“I hope I don’t cry.” Glancing up at the woman putting the finishing touches on my make-up, I ask, “Is it okay if I cry? Is this waterproof? Will I melt?”

“If you move your face again, I’m going to make you cry and we can test it out.”

“I like her,” Meg states. “Are you single? I have a not-quite-a-brother-in-law to pair off and I’m looking for someone fun. He’s cute and funny—I think. He doesn’t really come home a lot, but his brother’s a real rascal, so that probably means he’s smart for avoiding him. You like smart guys with sexy bodies?”