Tex looked like he had won the lottery. His smile and the emotion in his eyes were unmistakable. He was smitten with her.
The ceremony was beautiful. The padre made me weep with the Italian sonnet he added to the ceremony. It was a dream wedding.
I wiped my eye but Luce handed me his handkerchief. I loved that he had one.
I handed it back to him but he put a hand up, "You keep it."
I smiled but he got a cocky grin.
"What?"
He shook his head, "Nothing. It was a beautiful ceremony."
"It was."
The happy couple walked down the aisle and the Texans started to hoot and holler. The groomsmen each took their model on their arm and followed behind them. Mike winked at me as he made his way out of the chapel.
Brandi came over, "Is she pregnant?"
I scowled as we walked out of the chapel together, "I don’t know, but you should probably be the last person on earth to judge her."
Her eyes narrowed, "Who told you?"
I wrinkled my nose, "How could you?"
She shrugged, "I couldn’t bear the thought of Shawn's wimpy DNA, okay? If I have a son, which I am having a son, I want a warrior."
I sighed, "Oh my God, Bran. What the fuck?"
"Don't say fuck in church."
I looked down at her belly and tried hard to hide my rage, "You are despicable."
She sneered, "Shawn has his female friends and I have my male friends, and we don’t question each other. As long as the house is clean and the dinner is ordered and the babies are made, I'm free to be me."
I shook my head, "What about Will?"
She laughed softly, "J.D., be serious. No one like him would ever be with someone like me."
"You sent me here to be with Mike."
She gave me a patronizingly-loving look, "You had already screwed yourself. That ship had sailed. Dad may not talk to me, but honestly, I'm a victim of your circumstances to the rest of society."
My mouth hung open.
She lifted a perfectly-manicured finger up and closed my jaw, "I love you and I want you to be happy. You have never been one of us. Good society has never suited you, J.D. Your name alone says it all. Jacqueline Croix is a beautiful name and you go by J.D. and Jack. You hate your name, first and last. You hate the fact we have arranged marriages and planned lives. I don’t. I have always enjoyed my life. I loved my place in the world. I don’t need to see the art and buildings and the vineyards of the world. I don’t give a shit about some priest who built this dumpy, old castle. It doesn’t even have turrets so he didn’t do a great job." She squeezed my arms, "I love you the way you are. Quirky and complex. I'm a simple person, lots of money, lots of fineries, lots of galas and events. That’s all it takes to make me happy. You have never been that girl."
I felt sickened, and yet thrilled, by her weird and insulting speech. I nodded, "Thank you."
She hugged me, "I love you as J.D. and Jack. The girl who can't just drink the wine; she has to know how it's made, how old the fucking vineyard is, and which monk made it first. No one actually cares about that."
My brain made a funny remark in my head. That wasn’t entirely true. There was someone who cared about that. He was standing under a lemon tree, watching me.
I smiled at him.
"That is trouble, by the way. Is he a model?"
I laughed, "No. He's a hockey player. He plays in Boston too."
"Oh shit, is that the Lucian guy that every girl on the East Coast is in love with?"
I nodded, "Probably."
"Yeah, his family is crazy rich. Old money too. Ambassadors, bankers, and oil money. He is loaded. Too bad he wasn’t the one you picked. Dad never would have had a problem with him."
I glared at her, "I need to get a drink." My head was spinning. I could still feel my inner thighs begging for Mike to fuck me if I squeezed my legs tight enough, but the dark-green eyes under the lemon tree were taunting me.
"Get me one."
I looked back at her, "Seriously?"
She shrugged, "A little bit doesn’t hurt."
I sighed and walked to the bar inside.
I sat at the old bar, running my fingers over the ornately-carved wood. The bartender interrupted my appreciation, "Can I get you something?"
I smiled, without looking at him, "Red wines, what do you have?"
The list was slid in front of my face. I glanced at it and pointed instantly at the Valpolicella.
"You look like you could use a goblet of wine."
I lifted my face to see Luce behind the bar, "What are you doing?"
He shrugged, "I'm getting the lady wine." He reached for the bottle I had selected and opened it. Watching his hands working the corkscrew was sexy. He didn't notice my mouth breathing and eye fucking. He was too busy telling me the history of the bottle he was opening.
"The region was known for its method of using dried or partially-dried grape skins in the process. This bottle, in particular, is a Superiore because of the dried skins. The fermentation of the skin is part of the flavor in the wine. It gives it that sour-cherry flavor the wine is known for. Because the region is more North and cooler, the grapes typically are lighter in flavor. The fermented skins make the robust flavors come to life." He passed it through an aerator and slid a massive crystal goblet in front of my face.
I leaned forward, smelling the cherry of the wine and sighed. He poured himself a glass and picked mine up. He walked out behind the bar and through the doors to the veranda out back. He sat us down at one of the lit tents overlooking Rome.
"Imagine this was your view every day."
I sat across from him, "Would you ever leave the house?"
He shook his head, "The house yes, the yard maybe no. I love this villa."
The sun was setting and the tents were lit and spread across the backyard in amongst the hanging garden. The view of Rome was incredible. The warm air and the smell of my wine and Luce's subtle cologne, was as if my wish list had been granted. Every item was ticked off.
Of course the aching guilt in my stomach was something I hadn’t asked for. I felt sick, knowing I had nearly slept with Mike. That was bothering me more than anything. I had misled him. I hated that truth as I faced it.
Luce never spoke, he sipped his wine and looked at the valley below us.
My heart was racing. Not from the mistakes I was making, but from the experience I was having. I felt more alive in that moment than I ever had.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, "Can you imagine this in the 1700s. The villa, the view, the vino, and the food?"
I could hear the peaceful smile upon his lips when he spoke, "I can. I can see all of it. It’s like a Henry James novel or Jane Austen."
I opened an eye, "You read?"
He laughed, "I was forced to in the beginning, for school. But as I got older, I learned to love reading. I read science fiction and fantasy, like The Lord of the Rings and Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. I never appreciated Austen until the remake of Pride and Prejudice. I saw it with a girlfriend. She forced me to go, and honestly, I only agreed because the blonde from James Bond, Die Another Day, was in it. She is gorgeous, and of course, Keira Knightly. That changed it for me. The music was a perfect match, Dario Marianelli was the composer who did V for Vendetta. That's probably one of my favorite movies."
I shook my head, "I've never seen it. I loved the music in Pride and Prejudice though. I loved the scene where she was walking in the morning, in the mist and he was there."
He nodded, "Yes, exceptional score for certain."
I was no longer at a wedding in Italy. I was on a hillside with a guy who felt like he challenged me and made me think about things.
I panicked, standing up abruptly, "I should go find Brandi. Thank you for the glass of wine."
He looked confused but nodded, "See you at dinner."
But he didn’t. No one did. I ran to my room, packed my bag and called for a car.
A knock at the door startled me as I finished grabbing everything. I opened it to find Mike, looking feisty.
"What is going on in there?"
I frowned, "What do you mean?"
He pushed past me, "Shit, I thought I'd find Luce in here, and instead, I find something much worse. You're leaving?"
I nodded, "I am leaving before I make a fool of myself. I'm not ready for this, for us. I don’t even understand why I was invited."
He sighed, closing the door and pulling me into him. "Jack, don't piss me off tonight, please. We need to finish what almost happened earlier."
I shoved him back, "No, we don’t. We have done that half a dozen times. We have never needed to talk about it. I actually don’t want to talk about it at all."
He pulled me into him harder, “We never actually did it though.” I closed my eyes and smelled him. He was home and safety and strength, but I needed to find those things on my own. I hugged tightly to him, "I love you."
"No, you love torturing me."
I nodded, "I do."
He pulled me back and I could see it. I was hurting him. I hated that. He faked a smile, "Don’t go."
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him softly, "I love you, forever and always. You're my best friend, Mike."
He winced, "Best friend? Is there something going on with you and Luce?"
I shook my head, "He's a friend. He was a friend when I needed one and that is all." His eyes narrowed, but I put my finger to his lips and smiled, "Whatever really mean, hateful thing you're about to say—don’t. Just stop. You always say the shittiest stuff when you don't get your own way. I'm going back to Greece to finish my two months of work at the vineyard. I will see you in May in Boston or New York."
I held my pinkie out. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his massive pinkie around mine and shook them.
I winked, "Thanks for the almost booty call."