Brooke walked quietly over to Emma. “It’s a loud family. But they mean well . . . I promise.”
“This is crazy.”
“Are you an only child?” Brooke asked.
“No. Two brothers.”
“Well, then . . . you know how it is.”
Emma shook her head. “We have painfully civilized, boring holiday meals that we can’t wait to escape.”
Brooke frowned. “There is nothing boring about this family.”
“I can see that.”
“You should have been here when Chloe and Dante showed up as a couple for the first time.”
“What happened?”
Brooke nodded toward Gio, who had returned with a carrier filled with wine bottles. “Gio wasn’t happy that his best friend was sleeping with his sister.”
“Did they fight?”
Dante walked over to Gio, the two of them laughed about something and glanced her and Brooke’s way.
“I wouldn’t say ‘fight.’ Gio punched Dante once and Mari broke it up.”
Emma had a hard time envisioning Gio that angry. “I can’t see Gio being violent.”
Brooke moved to Emma’s side and they both stared at the gaggle of D’Angelos. “None of them are . . . until you threaten their family. They’ll go to the ends of the earth to protect that.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?” Dante rose his voice to get over everyone else there.
“I was just telling her about the time that Gio welcomed you with a knuckle sandwich.”
Gio looked directly at Emma. “He deserved it, cara. Trust me.”
Mari pointed a finger at Gio. “Never again in my home.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Come on, Emma. Let’s eat.” Mari once again indicated the seat next to her.
Emma took a fortifying breath and walked to the table.
As soon as she sat, Franny asked, “What’s a knuckle sandwich?”
“My ears are still ringing.” Emma sat curled in the nook of Gio’s shoulder after they both climbed into bed.
“I warned you.”
“Do they ever run out of energy?” Dinner had lasted nearly three hours. It rivaled anything Emma had experienced while they were in Italy.
“They were excited that you’re here.”
“They’re not like this normally?”
“No. They’re like that all the time, maybe a little more since they had someone new to share their stories with.” Gio graced her arm with his fingertips in a lazy, loving way.
“Like you beating up Dante.”
“I did not beat him up. I defended my sister’s honor.”
Emma had been waiting all night to hear his side of the story.
“Your sister can’t have sex?”
“She can have sex, just not with my best friend. Dante broke the guy code. First page in the rule book.”
Emma chuckled. “What changed?”
“He married her. Would slay dragons for her.”
“Everyone likes a good dragon slaying.”
“I’ll dust off my sword.”
“I’ll give you a warm place to put it.”
Gio placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face to his. “Is that an invitation?”
She reached between them, ran her hand over his hip, and snuggled closer. “I don’t know. It’s been a long day.”
Gio rolled her onto her back and hovered. “I’ll do all the work.”
Emma stretched her arms out to the side. “Okay, you talked me into it.”
“Oh, cara.”
His lips descended and she stopped him. “I saw my doctor. I’m all good.” Her thoughts flickered briefly to Dr. Sandy’s conversation, but Emma pushed that away.
“That makes two of us, then.”
Gio had seen his doctor that Monday.
“We should celebrate,” she suggested.
He hesitated. “No condom?”
“No need for it.”
“You sure?”
“Not unless you’re sleeping with someone else.”
He placed a hand to the side of her face. “I have room for one woman in my life and that is you.”
His words felt like a declaration.
His kiss felt like a promise.
Gio watched the slow transformation of Emma from smiling and animated to stoic and guarded.
It began on the flight to Sacramento. Their playful recount of the night before shifted to the events that were about to unfold at the gala.
“My father is going to be shocked to see me.”
The statement was repeated a few times.
“He won’t let on unless he doesn’t have an audience.”
Right, right . . . Gio had heard this, too.
Once the plane landed, they rented a car and drove for well over an hour before reaching the hotel.
Gio offered what he thought she needed to do and hear. “Remember your goals.”
“We’re there to mingle. Meet people in the industry and put a face to the name so when and if I need to call, they remember me.”
“And when you do face your father?” Gio asked.
“Act like anyone else in the room that owns a vineyard and believe I belong there.” Her words were convincing even though her expression was not.
“I’ll be right there to help keep you grounded.”
Her smile was forced, but Gio would take it.
They arrived at the hotel in time to shower and get ready.
Emma showered first and then parked herself in front of a vanity mirror.
When Gio emerged, her hair was still in a towel and she was finishing with her makeup.
“Beautiful, darling.”
She smiled at him through the mirror, and he walked away.
Gio pulled on a pair of briefs and hopped up on the bed. There was no reason to get into his tux until the last minute.
He flipped through his phone, checked a few emails . . . found his sister’s Instagram page and saw a picture of him and Emma smiling at the camera. The comment section was filled with questions from mutual friends.
“Who is that?”
“Is Gio finally off the market? Now maybe I’ll have a chance.”
“She’s too beautiful for him.”
Gio had an account but didn’t spend much time on it.
As much as he wanted to scream to the hills that he’d found the right woman, that woman wasn’t ready to scream it back. He felt her getting closer, but he also saw how much she struggled with the need to be independent and the desire to depend on him.
Every time he tried to do something simple for her, she asked him to show her how so she could do it herself.
The hair dryer turned on and Gio glanced at the time. Ten minutes later he picked his lazy butt off the bed and unzipped his garment bag. As he pulled on the tux, he couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was to women that they went through a complete ritual of makeup and hair . . . finding the right dress and shoes, the right underclothes to wear. “I’m glad I’m a guy,” he said out loud when the hair dryer turned off.
“I am, too,” Emma said from the other room. “But is there a particular reason as to why?”
“It only takes me fifteen minutes to get ready and that includes a shower and a shave.”