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This should be the moment when the bride’s mother turned to the bride’s father and said, “Our baby is all grown up.”
Instead, she was on one side of the Atlantic sharing a hotel suite with an Italian stallion, and he was undoubtedly on the other, holed up on that godforsaken ranch with his . . . cows. How sad was that?
“Where did the years go, Nicco? When did I get to be old enough to have a son-in-law?”
“It’s your own fault,bella.You should not have let that cowboy seduce you when you were twelve.”
She laughed then, as he’d surely known she would.
“Now, come love. Dry your eyes and take me to dinner. We should have Prosecco, I think, to celebrate. Then, tomorrow you can begin your diet.”
“My diet!”
He shrugged. “You are a beautiful woman, a young Sophia Loren. But I suspect that if you were to climb upon the scale tonight, my Emma, you would discover that you have gained as much as three pounds in the past month. That might be acceptable for a concert pianist, but as a mother of the bride? Impossible!”
“I hate you, Nicco.”
“You adore me, Emma, love. And I want you to know that I will overlook the thickness in your waist if you’ll finally abandon the silly nonsense about being a married woman and take me to your bed.”
Drily, she replied, “How kind of you.”
“What can I say? I am a prince.”
“My waist isn’t thick.”
He shrugged. “You are not twenty-five anymore, and three pounds can easily become thirteen. I will not cater to your vanity, my love. That is why you hired me, no?”
Initially, she’d hired him with the idea of driving Jared crazy, but in the past two years, he’d become a dear friend and an indispensable manager. But, of course, she dared not say that too often, so instead, she grumbled, “I don’t know why I haven’t fired you.”
“Because I refuse to accept anything less than your best, and this is not an easy job. What has happened to your self-discipline of late? I shudder to think what might become of you were I not here to keep you in check.”
Emma had the sudden urge to stick out her tongue at the man. Instead, she reached defiantly for the candy dish and one of the Parisian chocolate-covered caramels she kept in constant supply.
Nicco grinned as she gleefully unwrapped the candy. “Ah, but I do so love that fire in your eyes. So, indulge tonight, love, for tomorrow we begin preparations for the Milan performance and your meeting with the devil himself.”
The chocolate halfway to her mouth, Emma froze. “Jared.”
Nicco folded his arms. “This is why you need me, Emma. You had not put those particular pieces together, no? As the mother of the bride, you will not be able to avoid the father of the bride. Nor he you.”
He was right. As usual, Nicco was right. “Despite everything else, he’s been a good father to Molly. We can’t let our . . . disagreements . . . ruin the day for Molly.”
“No, you can’t.”
Emma turned her head toward the full-length mirror on the far wall of the luxurious suite.Jared. Not three pounds. Eight.She’d gained eight pounds in the three years since she’d last seen Jared. Eleven pounds since they’d married twenty-three years ago. “Their wedding date is December twenty-eighth. How many weeks until then?”
He considered the question. “Seventeen.”
She tossed the chocolate into the nearest trash can. “I want to make him choke on his alfalfa.”
“Brava!Now, let’s head to the gym.”
* * *
West Texas
The ringtone on Jared Stapleton’s phone played Jimmy Buffet’s “Little Miss Magic” just as he completed one last futures trade for the day. He smiled with pleasure as he abandoned his computer mouse, reached for his phone, and connected the FaceTime call. “Sunshine. This is a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Daddy,” Molly said.
