Chapter 16

Culver

"Well, that rehearsal was a ginormous waste of everyone's time," Hannah grumbles, climbing into her Jeep and starting the engine.

I buckle my seatbelt. "I don't know. I feel so much more confident about my performance now."

She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm as she reverses out of the parking lot. "At least I got to prove to Doyle that I'm capable of not flinching for an entire five minutes."

"Just make sure you haven't peaked too early and save some of that non-flinching energy for the festival next week."

She shoots me a quick glare. "Consider yourself lucky I need to keep both hands on the steering wheel."

Oh, I consider myself lucky, all right.

I wasn't expecting last night to end the way it did, but if it took a torturous—but secretly fun, not that I'd ever admit it—night of karaoke to get me to tell Hannah how I'm feeling, then so be it.

I'm glad I told her how I felt.

Sure, it might have been a bit out of the blue for her, but these feelings have been swirling inside me for a while now, so why wait? Summer will be over soon, and I didn't want to put it off any longer. I wanted to be honest and upfront with her, like I am about everything else.

But there are two things that are bothering me and don't quite sit right.

One is that despite her assurances last night, I don't feel good enough for her.

I agree with what she said, that it's the little things that matter the most in life. But a part of me—I believe his name is Caveman Culver—wants to woo her and take her out to fancy restaurants and shower her with expensive gifts and make her dreams come true the way Fraser made Evie's dreams come true.

I'm afraid I won't be able to give Hannah any of those things. To date, my track record in the dating department sucks. What if I don't have it in me to be the guy to give her everything her heart desires?

The second thing that's been burrowing away in the back of my head since last night?

I think I'm in love with you.

I think.

I think?

What sort of man says I think I'm in love with you to a woman?

I'll tell you what sort of a man.

A coward.

That doesn't sit right with me.

Especially since Hannah didn't say I think back to me. She just said the three words, plainly and simply and like she meant them with every fiber of her being.

Why wasn't I able to do that?

I blow out a low, frustrated breath.

I wish there was some sort of manual outlining the process of going from friends to more than friends.

Because I am determined to get this right.

No messing about.

No playing games.

Hannah deserves nothing but the best, and while I still think I am far from the best, she loves me.

And she didn't seem unsure or add any caveats before those three words.

She meant them.

Which means I really need to get my act together.

Hannah lets out a small giggle, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turn to her. "What?"

"I was just thinking…all these years we've had to convince everyone we're not together, and now…"

"Now we sort of are?"

"Yeah." She bites her lip. "Are we ready to clarify what sort of are means?"

"What would you like it to be?"

"What would you like it to be?"

Okay. This is it. No more messing about, Culver. You want to be a man worthy of Hannah? Here's your chance. Use your words, be honest, and tell her what you want.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

She breathes out noisily through her teeth. "Yikes."

"What, yikes?"

She pulls into the driveway, cuts the engine, and turns to face me, one hand on the steering wheel. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, but there's a problem."

My heart starts beating rapidly. "What sort of problem?"

She lifts her left hand. "I'm married."

Even though there's no ring on her ring finger since we don't want anyone to know about our fake marriage, my eyes travel there anyway.

"But you're married to me," I point out, the words coming out a little gruffer than I intended.

"I am," she says. "And I do want something more with you. Believe me, I do. But we're also best friends. And our families go way back. So, it's all so…" She sighs.

"Complicated," we say at the same time.

I reach across the console and take her hand. "I know this is uncharted territory, but it's us, Hannah. You and me."

"I know."

"And I'm going to make sure that whatever happens from here, we'll be okay."

She aims those light-blue eyes at me, and says, "Promise?"

I squeeze her hand tighter. "I do. With everything I have, I swear to you, we'll be okay."

"Good." She begins to slowly nod. "Maybe we don't have to label this us thing right now?"

"That's a very un-Hannah thing to say."

She smiles. "I know. But I'm having a very un-Hannah summer, and I'm really enjoying it."

"So you're saying, if it feels good, do it?"

Her smile grows. "Exactly. And this feels very good, Culver."

"I agree."

She leans over, and we kiss.

But she's wrong, though.

This doesn't feel good.

This feels like the best thing in the world.

A few days later, Hannah and I are at my parents' house for an update on the inheritance situation.

The whole clan is here—Nonna, my folks, Malik, Bianca, Farrow, and Sandy. Even my reclusive oldest brother, Brock, drove down from his cabin in the woods to be here.

And it wouldn't be a Palladino family gathering without a mountain of food.

I check in on Nonna since Ma told me she's been cooking up a storm all day. "Can I do anything to help, Nonna?"

"Out of my kitchen," she replies, waving a wooden spoon in the air.

Technically, it's not her kitchen, it's Ma's, but Ma already told me she'd been shooed out of there the moment Nonna arrived first thing in the morning. I think it's some sort of cultural thing. Nonna interprets offers to help in her kitchen as a minor insult. I don't mean to offend her, I just don't want an eighty-year-old woman cooking for our entire family on her own.

But I comply with what she says. "All right, I'm going. Smells amazing, by the way."

Her dark-brown eyes meet mine, and she smiles. "Thank you, mio tesoro."

Brock and I help Pa bring in the outside table and set it, along with the dining table, into the living room so we can all eat in one place.

Half an hour later, that's what we're doing.

Sounds of chatter and laughter fill the cozy living room, as we dig into Nonna's delicious Italian spread. She really went all out, with risotto, lasagna, baked fish, grilled veggies, two types of salads, and my personal favorite of hers—braciola, beef rolls stuffed with breadcrumbs and herbs.

It's moments like these when I'm the happiest. Family. Food. And the most incredible woman in the world sitting next to me. What more does a guy need?

"So how's married life treating you, Culver?" Malik asks.

"You know I'm not above kicking you under the table, right?"

He grins. "That well, huh?"

"It's going fine," Hannah answers, shooting a smile at me before ably deflecting Malik's question by telling everyone about her hot girl summer list.

Meanwhile, I feel bad that I can't be honest with my family and tell them things between us are changing, and that it has nothing to do with the stupid fake marriage and everything to do with very real feelings developing.

But Hannah and I need to be clear on what we are first, and I respect her wish not to rush into things or force a label on what we have.

Which, in a way, is a good thing.

It buys me a little time to get my head sorted and resolve the last vestiges of self-doubt I have.

"That's such a wonderful thing," Ma says, when Hannah finishes explaining. "It's about time you did something for yourself."

Farrow opens his big mouth to say something, but before he can, I direct a question at my oldest brother, who I haven't seen in way too long. "So, Brock, how's mountain life treating you?"

Like Dad, he's a two-time serving vet. His first tour went fine, but during his second, his unit came under fire, and his best friend bled-out in his arms.

It broke him.

When he came back, he needed to get away, and the mountains of Cedar Crest Hollow were the perfect place for him to escape to.

"Good. Quiet. Peaceful."

He's never been much of a talker, but nowadays, he gives Bear from the diner a run for his money in the doesn't like to talk department.

"Maybe I can come up and visit sometime, and we can hang out?"

"Any time."

He smiles, and I can see the Brock I know and love in there, buried deep under layers of pain I may not understand but can relate to all the same.

"So," Pa says. "We had a call from the lawyers."

Bianca perks up straight away. I clench my jaw and glance over at Nonna, who clocks her reaction, too. She looks at me with a frown and eyes that say, 'Can you believe her?'

No, I really can't.

"The appraisal of assets has been completed," Ma says. "The next step is to ensure all outstanding debts and taxes are paid. Once that is done, the remaining assets will be distributed to you all."

"Any ETA on that?" Bianca asks.

"We don't know," Ma answers. "Maybe a month. Possibly two."

"Right." Bianca turns to me with a smile that makes my skin crawl. "You, mister, are going to need a good PR team after you get your funds and you and Hannah divorce."

I don't know if it's Bianca's lack of sensitivity in how she's treating this delicate situation—I mean, hello, Ma is sitting at the table. This isn't easy for her—or whether it's hearing the D-word fall out of her mouth, but my self-restraint breaks. "I have a good PR team, Bianca, and I won't be changing. Not now. Not ever. Is that clear?"

The room falls deathly silent.

"Oh, okay. Sorry. I just…"

She trails off, and I can't help feeling bad for losing my cool. Not to mention, I have Malik glaring at me, so I say, "Sorry, Bianca. I didn't mean to snap. Thank you for your offer, but I really am happy with my current representation. If that ever changes, you'll be the first person I call."

She looks up at me, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I don't answer calls, because ew. Send me a DM instead."

I grit my teeth. "Fine. I'll do that."

The tension subsides, and the conversation returns to normal topics. Malik complains about how hard it is to find good contractors for his construction business, and Sandy tells us about a parrot who came into the vet clinic with the dirtiest mouth, which gets everyone laughing.

At the end of dinner, Ma and I are in the kitchen helping Nonna with the dishes because I refuse to let her clean up by herself. I don't care if it's offensive—I am helping.

We're at the sink. She's washing, I'm drying, and Ma is cleaning up and putting the leftovers into Tupperware containers.

"Have I ever told you the story about how I met your nonno?" Nonna asks, handing me a plate.

My grandfather passed away a year before Trevor and I were born.

"No. I don't think you have."

"Our families lived next door to each other in Positano. We grew up together. Celebrated all the holidays and birthdays."

I stop drying, a feeling of familiarity sweeping over me. Where is she going with this? "O-kay."

"We were friends. Even though he was only four months older than me, he felt like a protective big brother. All through our childhoods, through school, until our senior year of high school. We were walking home from school one day, eating ice-cream, when he stopped suddenly, and said, 'Geneva, penso che ti amo.'"

"Er, sorry, Nonna, my Italian's a little rusty."

She gives me a playful hip bump. "It means I think I love you."

I put down the plate and fling the dish towel over my shoulder. "Whoa."

"You understand what I'm saying, mio tesoro?"

Uh, yeah, I think I just pinpointed where my chicken gene came from. Thanks, Nonno. Seems like declaring your love for someone by prefacing it with an I think is a Palladino family trait.

But then I think about the bigger point Nonna's making. She might actually be the best person to help me with what I've been struggling with. "How did you go from seeing him and loving him as a brother figure, to…you know, romantic love?"

Ma comes over over and listens in.

Nonna shrugs. "I went home, and I thought about love. It really is a crazy thing."

"The craziest," Ma concurs.

"There's no rhyme or reason to it," Nonna continues. "If people believe in love at first sight, then why not love at, say, one thousandth or ten thousandth sight?"

"That's a really good point." I say.

"Your Nonno and I talked. We were scared of losing the friendship we had, but we also knew we could possibly have something even better if we took a chance. So we took a chance. And eleven kids later, here we all are."

"I feel like you're trying to tell me something, Nonna."

Both she and Ma smile.

"I think you know what I'm trying to say." Nonna reaches up and places her small hand on my shoulder. "You love Hannah, and she loves you. What we risk reveals what we value, Culver. Yes, you have a good friendship, but you could have something so much more."

"Life is short, son," Ma says, with nothing but affection in her eyes. "If you love her and want to be with her, go for it."

I don't know what to say, but I think…I think I just had a major life epiphany while doing the dishes.