Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Meg nods her agreement. “You are annoyingly pretty.”

“Want me to send pictures to Sal and see which one he likes best?” Francesca offers.

I glance over to see if she’s kidding. “No.”

Pointing back toward the door, Meg asks, “Want me to go out and drag Adrian in here? Maybe a male perspective will help sell you.”

“Adrian doesn’t have opinions about dresses,” I tell her. “I’ve tried to show them off for him before; the best I get is a grunt or a gruff nod.”

“Do you want us to hold them all up around you and you can close your eyes, spin around in a circle, and point to one at random?” Meg suggests.

Thankfully, before she can talk me into that, the consultant comes over with a long veil. There’s a big, optimistic smile on her face. She turns me away from the mirror to put the veil on and Francesca helps her arrange it around my back. It’s really long. I haven’t even looked at veils yet, and the idea of having another task exhausts me. But then Francesca smiles at me, holding onto my shoulders and rotating me until I’m facing the mirror.

And there it is.

It is my dress.

It’s exactly what I want to look like when I walk down the aisle and see Mateo waiting for me at the other end. Somehow the veil turned a pretty white dress into my wedding gown, and now I look like a bride. Mateo’s bride. I didn’t expect to turn emotional, but all of a sudden I’m hit by the sting of tears, staring at my reflection, imagining the day I marry Mateo. The unattainable man of my dreams is mine to have and to hold for the rest of my life. I may not be his first love, I may not even be his first fiancée, but I’m the only woman he’s ever given the honor of becoming his wife.

Mrs. Mateo Morelli.

“She’s crying,” Meg states.

Francesca grins. “That’s a good thing, in this setting.”

“I’m so happy,” I blubber.

“Aw.” Francesca laughs a little, leaning her head on my shoulder and giving me a hug. “I told you we’d find the dress today.”

I sniffle, dabbing at my eyes to keep from ruining my make-up. Suddenly the weight of this wedding doesn’t feel so immense. I don’t care if we booked the wrong venue. I don’t care if I pick the wrong dress and wear the wrong shoes. I got it right with the only thing that matters—the groom.

—

Sighing contentedly, I let my hand travel along the muscular plane of Mateo’s back as he rests on top of me. He’s still inside me, and I absolutely love when he’s inside me. I don’t even care if he’s done fucking me; he can just live there.

I wrinkle up my nose as he lifts off of me and pulls out of my body.

Smiling faintly, he says, “What’s that look for?”

“I wanted you to stay.”

“I promise I’ll visit again soon.”

I watch him scoot to the edge of the bed and climb off, walking into the bathroom. I love the sight of his bare ass. I love the sight of his whole body. Regretfully, I pull myself out of bed and take a quick turn in the bathroom myself, but I’m feeling extra needy tonight and I just want to be back in his arms.

He doesn’t mind. He likes that I need him. I used to think maybe I was too soft for him, especially once he met Meg and she seemed so much better equipped to handle him. Turns out, no. He returns to my softness, no matter how many times he tries not to.

Wrapped up in his strong arms, I tilt my head back to look at him. “I found my dress today.”

“Good,” he says, dropping a kiss on my lips and lingering, kissing the corner of my mouth, moving along my jawline. I let my eyes drift closed as I smile, enjoying his affection.

“Did you pick out your tux?”

“I did. It’s a lot easier for men.”

“You mean it didn’t take you 5,000 shopping trips and an emotional outburst?”

Chuckling against my jawline, he lowers his kisses, moving his lips to my neck now. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen you cry,” I realize. “Do you cry?”

Mateo pulls back long enough to roll his eyes at me. “Not over clothing.”

“I can’t even picture what that would look like,” I say, still on the crying thing.

“There’s no reason you should ever know.”

“Have you ever cried before? You can tell me. You can even do it in front of me. I promise I’ll always think you’re a total badass, no matter what.”

Now he brings his index finger to my mouth, indicating I should be quiet. In case I still don’t get it, he adds, “Shh.”

Since it’s right there and I’m feeling a little ornery, I open my mouth wide enough to move over his finger and lower my head, closing my lips around his finger and sucking on it.