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Cynthia blinks a few times. “Let’s park the attire ideas for our next session, once we confirm the colors. What about the menu? If we go with the best chefs in the country, or fly a Michelin-starred chef from Europe, we need to confirm as soon as possible.”

“I want a fair. People expect gourmet meals. I want to surprise them.” I really shouldn’t have this much fun with this. I’ll have to go through with this wedding after all. But it’s not like he’d ever approve this. Would he?

Cynthia chuckles nervously. “You want carnival food at your wedding?”

“Isn’t that a fabulous idea?” I shimmy my shoulders. Cynthia tries to hide her horror while I try to stay in character. “We could have a bouncy castle at the reception.”

You got your goddess of war, asshole.

“A delivery? What is it?” I hold my phone to my ear, about to push the front door of Cora’s bistro open.

New York seems to have remembered it was April, and the sun given way to the more familiar wind. I turn to protect myself, not wanting to enter the place while talking on the phone.

“I’m at the airport, principessa; just give me your address,” Vito urges.

For some reason, I don’t want him to know where I live. That I’m crashing at my friend’s.

He knows of my desperate situation, but I told him I’m staying at my brother’s. I don’t want to explain why I lied. Mostly because I don’t even know why.

“I’m not there, anyway. Have it delivered to Cora’s bistro. I’ll text you the address.” And hopefully, the delivery will get lost. It’s from Betsy’s office, so it won’t be anything I want.

“Okay, it should be there in an hour. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Have a safe flight, Vito. I miss you already.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I talk to the lawyers. And Saar?”

“Hm?” I huddle closer to the entrance, like that could save me from the gusts of wind.

“Don’t piss off the groom. You need him.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“You’d better. Ciao.”

“Finally,” Celeste squeals as soon as I push the door and get inside.

She waves her arms like there are crowds between me and her table. Cora’s bistro is actually quite empty. I glance at my watch and wave at Sanjay.

Sitting at our usual table, Celeste looks plump, glowing, a very pregnant and happy self. Always super elegant, her chestnut hair is blow-dried, falling in waves to her shoulders, and she’s wearing a lovely green dress.

God, I missed her. My meeting with Cynthia invigorated me enough to finally agree to join my friends for our usual chat and coffee.

I rush over to hug her. “Don’t stand up. You look…” I search for the right word, regretting that I started the sentence.

“Huge is the word you’re looking for,chérie,” Celeste says in her lovely French accent, laughing and perfectly comfortable.

“I thought you’re not supposed to say that to a pregnant woman.” I sit beside her.

I don’t have one maternal bone in my body, but seeing Celeste with her swollen belly, and knowing this is my brother’s baby too, I love the munchkin already.

I stare at her stomach. She married my brother out of necessity, and they still found their happily-ever-after. They hated each other at first. Like me and Corm.

A shiver runs through me. Was I really venturing into that territory? There is no me and Corm. I’m not looking for romance, let alone with him. And yet… he snakes his arm around me once—to deliver a threat!—and my mind wanders?

“Why are you glaring at your future niece or nephew?” Celeste puts her hands on her stomach.

Shit. “Sorry, babe, I got lost in my thoughts. Are you sick of people wanting to touch it?”