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Walking out of the building, I reached my car and somehow found my way home. I was tired, exhausted, and somehow buzzed at the same time. Dropping my handbag by the hall stand, I headed straight for the fridge. Retrieving the opened bottle of wine, I poured a glass and took three eager gulps.
A heavy knock at the door startled me mid-swallow, and I choked on the last mouthful. The thumping continued, and I wiped my chin with the back of my hand.
“Hang on... geez!”
Kicking my heels off along the way, I headed back to the door as more knocking sounded.
“I’m coming,” I yelled, wishing whoever it was would leave me the hell alone.
Have they no idea what type of traumatic day I’ve had?
“What?” I snapped as I flung open the door. My tone immediately softened when I saw Ricky standing on the other side. “Ricky, what are you—”
“Roman invited you to his wedding?” he asked incredulously.
Oh shit!
My brother pushed past me, eyes darkened and filled with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment.
“It’s fine,” I said, slightly freaking out about the wedding being this weekend, and the man who practically had me orgasming without sex was to be my fake fiancé.
“No, it’s actually not fine. Have you forgotten everything he put you through?”
“Of course, I haven’t,” I said, following him into the kitchen.
“Then why the fuck are you going to his wedding? To wish him well, or to crash it?”
“I... he asked—”
“That doesn’t mean you say yes.” Ricky took a seat on one of the stools.
“Look... Roman... he...” I stammered over my words. “I’ve moved on, and he’s happy, so maybe we just weren’t meant to be. I need to come to terms with that.”
“Come to terms with the fact he cheated on you with your best friend?”
That hurt.
“I understand what you’re saying, but it seems like everyone else is more worried about it than me.”
Ricky helped himself to my wine glass. “You’re too nice, Britta.”
“I was caught off guard when I saw him in the streets. Time’s passed, and yes, it still hurts that it all happened, but perhaps it would be good for everyone. Moving on and all.”
“He’s lucky I didn’t fucking strangle him for what he did to you.”
“Who told you...” I trailed off, not needing to finish the question. I already knew who. Hawk.
“It doesn’t matter.”
My cheeks reddened and palms grew sweaty. “What else does Hawk tell you?”
“He tells me everything. We’re friends, you know that.”
“I know, but—”
Ricky’s eyes narrowed and he studied me curiously. “What’s wrong with you?”
Shrugging my shoulders indifferently, I wiped my palms on my skirt. “Nothing, why?”
“You’re sweating.” He squinted some more. “And you’re blushing?”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“You’re hiding something from me, Britta.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Just like you tried to hide the wedding from us all, your family.”
I had to laugh. “I love you all. You’re my brothers. You’re all protective and have my best interests at heart. But do you boys even realize how controlling you can be?”
“We’re Valentinos, Britta, and you’re our only sister. So let us be protective.”
Throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, I opened the fridge door and studied the meager contents. I was rarely home for dinner, and trips to the grocery store were few and far between.
“Fine, I’ll let you. Dinner?”
“Thank you, and I thought you’d never ask,” Ricky said, but I could sense his hesitation. “You’re not cooking, though. Are you?”
I slammed the fridge door closed and looked at him in mock admonishment. “What the hell is wrong with my cooking?”
Ricky held his hands up in defense. “You’re no momma or nonna, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Fine, big shot. What do you suggest?”
“Come on,” he said, finishing off the wine. “I’ll take you out.”
“This is an offer I can’t refuse.” Raking my fingers through my hair, a pseudo effort in tidying myself up, I headed for the hall.”
“Oh... and I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding also.” Ricky dropped that little tidbit so casually I bet he hoped I didn’t notice.
I certainly did damn well notice.
Spinning around, I faced him head-on.
“Ah... no, you’re not,” I scoffed, but inside my nerves were getting the better of me.
“Someone needs to have your back. Going alone leaves you vulnerable to the wolves.”
“You forget I’m old enough to decide where I want to go, and who I spend my time with.”
“I beg to differ in this situation, little sister.”
“Beg all you like, big brother. Whatever plans you have to babysit me, or gatecrash the wedding, simply aren’t happening.”
“You’re not going alone,” he asserted.
“I’m not going alone,” I replied stubbornly, hand on my hip.
This confession piqued his interest, and a small smile played on his lips.
“Oh yeah,” he said, eyes alight that he would be leaving here with some gossip. “Who is this mystery man?”
My heart began pounding. If I continued down this road, I’d have a lot of explaining to do. If I lied and the truth was shortly discovered, I’d be in even deeper shit. “He’s not a mystery.”
