Aw, fuck.
I knew they were engaged, but no one told Francesca. I damn sure wasn’t going to.
Since Meg can’t sit down with Francesca in the way, she puts down the plates she carried in for herself and Mateo, then waits patiently for Francesca to move.
“What’s that?” Francesca finally asks, not budging an inch.
I glance at Mateo and see him sigh inaudibly, reaching for his wine glass.
“Oh, right, you weren’t here.” Now Meg holds her hand out for Francesca to get a better look. She grins, either oblivious or indifferent to Francesca’s dull horror. “We got engaged!”
“Why?” Francesca replies instantaneously. I don’t think she even meant to, it just spilled right out of her.
Meg snorts, but remains light-hearted. “What do you mean, why? We’re in love, obviously. Oh, and pregnant! Totally unrelated to the engagement, though.”
Francesca rests a hand on my shoulder as if to steady herself.
“You guys have been together for like a month,” Francesca states.
“Well, it’s been a little longer than that,” Meg says, shrugging. “Whirlwind romance and all that. I realize you missed out on some of it what with your sleeping with the enemy and framing me thing, but trust me, we are adorable.”
When enough time passes in silence for things to grow distinctly awkward, Meg quips, “I guess I shouldn’t ask you to be a bridesmaid?”
“It’s good news,” Mia says lightly, glancing from Francesca to Meg, apparently wanting to lend her support. “She’s just surprised. I’m sure there’s plenty of time to figure out the bridesmaid situation.”
“Is there?” Francesca asks, making her first attempt to not sound horrified. “I mean, have you set a date?” Instead of Meg, she looks to Mateo on this one.
With a firm shake of his head, he meets her gaze and says, “No.”
I hear her exhale with relief.
So does Meg, but she merely lifts her eyebrows and slides back into her seat beside me, apparently unperturbed.
Chapter Thirty Eight
Francesca
The burying of Matt Morelli is a formal, dry-eyed affair.
Morelli relatives from near and far attend, which makes things a little tense. Vince’s dad flies in from Vegas to bury his brother. They weren’t close, but that’s just what you do. His presence is made intensely awkward due to the fact that Vince never once acknowledges him—never so much as looks in his direction. Mia senses his obvious discomfort and gives up her ground for the length of the funeral and burial, holding onto Vince’s arm and leaning against him, lending her support. They look like a real couple today, and it makes me sad for them.
Mateo is there with Meg, which also makes me sad. He doesn’t need support to get him through the loss of a man he has no surviving feelings for, but he still looks solemn as our father is lowered into the ground.
Instead of leaning toward Meg, he leans to his other side and remarks lowly to me, “I wonder if this is what my funeral will be like.”
I frown, shaking my head at him. “Of course it won’t.”
He doesn’t remark further, straightening and turning his attention back to the gravesite.
Once Dad is buried, we head back to the house to receive everyone there. I’m sure this is the part Mateo absolutely loathes, letting people come in and out of his home, but at least no one brings us food. I can just picture Mateo lugging in a garbage can to drop all of it in right in front of them.
I am a little annoyed that he made Maria and Cherie put out the food, knowing Vince’s dad would be here. Ben doesn’t actually acknowledge Cherie as his offspring, but it’s still in bad taste.
“This sucks, I’m sorry,” I tell Sal, tucked in a quiet corner with him.
“Oh, mingling with Morellis? This is literally what I dream about at night.”
I smile as he secures his arms around my waist, tugging me close like we’re dancing. “Are they dressed as clowns and chasing you through the woods?”
“With chainsaws,” he verifies, nodding.
I lean up to brush my lips against his. “Thank you for coming to this with me. I’d be even more miserable without you here.”
“You’ll never have to fly solo to this shit again,” he assures me, kissing me again.
“Mm, that sounds good,” I tell him, closing my eyes and leaning my head on his shoulder.
Sal releases me and takes a step back, glancing up as someone approaches. “Hey, could you go grab us a couple drinks?”
I frown, because he’s talking to me, but it’s my brother approaching him—Dante, not Mateo. “You trying to get rid of me?” I tease.
“Nope, just thirsty,” he assures me, giving me a squeeze.
I hesitate to walk away, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek so I can remind him, “There are cameras.”
“I know,” he assures me.
I don’t feel great about it, but I leave him and Dante to it anyway and go get drinks. I feel a little sweaty, searching the room for Mateo to make sure he’s not watching. I find him with Meg and one of our long-distance cousins, playing the dutiful host.