Page 16 of Lorenzo

“Apologies, no,” he says, with even more charm. “Where did we meet?”

I begin to tell him, then snap my mouth shut.

Had I been that forgettable?

“My mistake,” I say drily, resisting my usual tendency for sarcasm. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Of course. It happens. But how is it that you’re not wearing a wedding dress?” he says, his eyes flicking over my aunt’s suit with clear disdain.

“Well, it’s not quite a wedding, is it?” I have no problem letting my usual sass snap back into my tone.

“No one knows that,” he replies.

“Appearances are important. Guests came expecting to see a traditional wedding. Please explain your choice of attire.”

I stiffen. “My great aunt passed recently. She always wanted to see me married. I wore this in her memory.”

“Ah,” he says in a way that suggests he doesn’t know me well enough to tell if I’m serious or not. “Then allow me to introduce you to your new family.”

I note his ironic tone. Fitting. So we’re on the same page.

“That’s my brother Dante, talking to that group of men there,” he says.

I turn to look at an attractive dark-haired man. I judge him to be an older, more serious, darker version of Lorenzo.

Even from this distance, his eyes look black and carry a ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe he must radiate even in casual conversation.

“And that’s his wife Gina. Let me introduce you now. She lives upstairs so you’ll be seeing a great deal of one another.”

Lorenzo leads me to a pretty blonde girl about my own age. She greets me with a big smile and a hug as soon as we’re introduced.

“Very happy to meet you, Emily,” she says, beaming at me with genuine delight.

Her hands curve around the slight bump above her belly. “And congratulations on your marriage. Lorenzo’s a great guy.”

“I hope so,” Lorenzo says, wandering off to the bar.

“What’s with the tweed suit?” Gina asks with genuine curiosity. “I have my wedding dress upstairs. I can run up and get it if you’d like.”

I smile and shrug. “Thanks for the offer. You must know Lorenzo and I have a temporary business arrangement. And so, a business suit.”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” she says with a charming laugh. “Please let me bring down my veil, at least. This way it won’t be awkward when the officiant asks Lorenzo to kiss the bride.”

Gina slips away. I take advantage of the situation to accept a glass of Champagne from a passing waiter and survey the crowd.

“You’re Emily, right? My new cousin!” says a girl who’s suddenly materialized before me.

She has long midnight-black hair and wears bright red lipstick that actually looks good on her.

“I’m Angie. Welcome to the family!”

Before I can respond, she pulls me into a tight hug. When she releases me, she’s already wincing at what must be a giant lipstick mark on my cheek.

“Oh, sorry about that! I get carried away at these kinds of things.”

She digs through a small beaded clutch, produces a tissue, and dabs at my cheek. “I hear you’re from Boston.”

“That’s right,” I say as Gina returns.