My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

Chapter 4AbiWhat in the actual fuck did I just do? I ask myself as the room spins around me. I seriously feel like I just punched myself in the head, hard, as my heart pounds in my chest while I wait for Lorenzo’s reaction. Simultaneously, I’m clutching him all the tighter, mainly to try and not faceplant on the tile.

Beside me, I can feel him go rigid, and I know he’s probably thinking what the fuck?

Can’t fault him. I’m thinking that too. Did I leave my sanity in the Miami airport when I was running for our connection? Or maybe I lost it before then, at home when I was packing extra batteries for some bonus stress relief?

When the silence stretches past ten seconds, I nudge Lorenzo with my foot, smiling up at him hopefully while silently praying.

The look in his eyes is a mystery, and I cringe, half expecting him to blow everything up, when he extends his hand to Emily and smiles. “Lorenzo Toscani. It’s a pleasure.”

Emily takes Lorenzo’s hand like she’s half in shock, gripping his fingers like she’s wondering if he’s for real.

Fuck it, might as well roll with it at this point.

“You see, we’re here on our honeymoon too!” I gush, clasping Lorenzo’s hand and squeezing hard.

Go along with this, please!

"Congratulations," Doug says with a true smile, completely oblivious to the hurricane of craziness that just swept us away and out to sea with zero life vests.

“Right . . . yes, of course,” Emily says, looking us over. “Congratulations. But where’s the ring?”

“Lorenzo’s family offered us an antique set from his grandparents in Italy,” I make up on the spot, hoping Lorenzo’s still willing to play along, “but they didn’t get here in time for us to get them sized right. And we certainly didn’t want to risk losing such priceless antiques in the sea.”

“We’ll pick them up back home,” Lorenzo completes for me. He’s going along with it. For now.

"So, what do you do, Lorenzo?” Doug asks, already on the prowl for another possible sales opportunity.

“I’m a chef,” he says modestly. I haven’t had Lorenzo’s food, but Violet speaks of it as if it’s an otherworldly experience.

Doug frowns. “You do okay with that? I mean, do you have your own restaurant or something?”

Something flickers across Lorenzo’s face, there and gone so quickly I could pretend I imagined it. But I know I didn’t.

“No. I’m a co-chef at an Italian restaurant.” The challenge is thick, daring Doug to say something derogatory about Lorenzo’s role.

“Ah, well . . . good for you,” Doug says lamely, apparently deeming Lorenzo unworthy of a hard sale.

Emily steps forward, effectively putting herself into the middle of our group of four. “Your husband?” She taps her lip with a manicured nail. “I can’t say I’ve heard a thing about that,” she sneers with obvious disbelief. “I mean, everyone heard about your brother and your best friend, and Courtney and Ross’s best friend. But I haven’t heard a thing about Abi Andrews finding a man,” she accuses, “and goodness, wouldn’t that be big news if it were true?”

“We’re keeping it quiet,” I say.

Unfortunately, at the same time, Lorenzo comes to my defense again. “It was rather quick.”

I look to Lorenzo, panicked, but he flashes me a sexy smile. “It was a fast wedding because I could not wait to make Abigail mine, but we are keeping it quiet for now. I’m sure you understand how . . . hmm, what’s the word?” He speaks perfect English and is setting Emily up for a shot, I’m certain of it. I fall a little in love with him in this moment. Okay, not love, but gleeful, spiteful friendship at least.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure you know how nosy some people can be. Abigail’s family is the subject of much unfortunate gossip.”

How does he know that?

Violet must have told him about how awful things were when the paparazzi found out about her wedding to my brother.

“May I help you?” the clerk behind the desk asks with a smile.

I offer her a thankful smile in return because she’s saving me too. “Yes, checking in. I have a reservation for Andrews.”

She clicks on her computer. “Of course, Miss Andrews. I have you in room six-seventeen. Will two keys be sufficient?”

Lorenzo steps forward. “That’s Mrs. Andrews. And yes, two keys will be fine.” The clerk is utterly charmed by Lorenzo, her smile wavering and then going megawatt as she hands the key cards over. “Shall we, mia rosa?”

What is he doing?

I mean, obviously, we can’t say we’re staying in separate rooms because that would be ridiculously suspicious for newlyweds on their honeymoon. But he’s acting like he’s coming back to my suite with me and Janey.

Where is she, anyway? Still exploring the bar? Or has she snuck out to wiggle her toes in the sand?