Chapter Thirteen

Nora

Hickory Hall is a massive event space with a wall of windows overlooking the lake, a vaulted ceiling, and a beer and wine bar operated by a member of the resort service staff.It's a gorgeous space to party like it's 1995.

A cluster of black, neon green, and neon pink balloons has been tied to the back of one chair at each of twenty round tables. Near the entrance, there's a photo area set up, complete with a tripod and a cheesy backdrop that says Welcome Back to the 90s decorated with animated pictures of roller blades, cassette tapes, fanny packs, and Polaroid cameras.Someone added #RoZo in black marker at the top.

The place is crawling with people by the time Benji and I approach the head table to take our seats.

Ro, dressed as Kelly Kapowski in a Bayside Tigers cheerleading costume, lights up when she sees us coming. "You dressed up!"

Benji pulls out my chair for me. "Why wouldn't we? It's required."

"And we wanted to," I add.

"Well, the Mazzellis sure didn't," she grumbles.

I scan the hall. It appears that the Ferraros have somewhat responded to the call, but I cannot find a single Mazzelli dressed in anything other than black or white.

"Maybe that's just how my family dressed in the"—Enzo freezes at the look on Ro's face—"anyway, welcome. Grunge, eh?"

Benji's bitter eyes turn on me."Yes. Her idea."

I choose not to look at his expression to avoid bursting into laughter. Benji's costume consists of ripped jeans, a ratty band tee, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt that swallows his already large frame.

He'll never forget to give me a schedule of events again.

He'll also never agree to go with me anywhere ever again, but still.

Meanwhile, I'm paying homage to Clueless in my Cher Horowitz costume: plaid mini skirt, preppy collared shirt, choker necklace, and knee-high white socks.

Ro gestures next to her. "Nora, this is my maid of honor, Gia. She just got in this afternoon."

Gia is arrestingly hot with a milky complexion and pinup girl curves shown off by a paisley dress. Her gingery red hair is teased to perfection and her lips are painted a dark shade of pink. "Nice to meet you, Nora. And long time no see, Brother Bear. Glad you got your head out of your ass and decided to make your sister's wedding a priority."

"Hello, Gia." Benji looks and sounds wholly unbothered by her verbal lashing, like this is normal for them. "Participate in any hit-and-runs lately?"

"That was one time like ten years ago, and I went back after I finished crying." Her gaze turns to me. "Don't worry, it wasn't a person."

Sebastian and Alessia close in on the table. They're wearing normal dinner outfits for this decade other than the white piece of printer paper taped to each of their shirts. He gets her chair for her and proceeds to take the seat directly next to me. His cologne smells like wood and spice and everything nice.

"What's with the papers on your chests?" Enzo asks in lieu of hello.

Sebastian gestures at his shirt. "We're the Teletubbies."

Enzo snorts. "No, you're two people wearing Office Max's finest bright white copy paper taped to your front."

Alessia tuts. "Have you no vision? I'm Po. Sebastian is also Po because we both had red shirts. We are the epitome of nineties culture." Her gaze turns to a tan man with tight curls and a gold chain seated next to Enzo. "Hello, Sergio. I see you're…here."

Sergio looks like a dramatized version of Saved by the Bell 's AC Slater, right down to his hairstyle. The muscles displayed by his tight white T-shirt are a lot , giving him the sort of blown-up look that makes me inherently anxious. I worry he may deflate if he catches a sharp corner.

Enzo points at the man seated next to him. "For anyone who doesn't know, this is my cousin Sergio. The best man."

"Everyone calls me Serge," he corrects. "Like an adrenaline surge."

Enzo tents his hands beneath his chin, regarding him with a flat stare. "Who calls you Serge?"

Sergio gestures at nothing and no one. "Most people."

"Really? Even at work?" Benji asks with the levity of a court stenographer who missed half of someone's testimony.

"Nah." His teeth are a bright white. "They mostly call me a miracle worker."

Gia crosses her arms. "Oh yeah? Are you in the medical field?"

"I'm building a wellness empire—"

"He's a personal trainer," Enzo completes.

Sergio points at the man by my side. "Rossi, is that you? Where the hell have you been all these years? I never see you around."

"Busy." Sebastian's voice is butter smooth as he pulls a carafe of table wine toward the space between our empty glasses.

"You coming to the bachelor party?"

Sebastian's brows lift as he pours wine in Alessia's glass, his glass, and then slides it wordlessly toward me. "If you planned one, I will be there."

"It's in the works. Leave tomorrow night open. If I can't find a club, I'll work something else out." He drapes an arm over Enzo's shoulder. "This town is small but I'm sure there's plenty of ways to give our boy a memorable night."

Gia shoots Sergio a lethal look. "Not that memorable. He's about to be a married man."

"He is." Sergio lifts his glass. "On Sunday . And it's my job to ensure he enjoys himself beforehand, isn't it? We'll have fun."

Sergio's chuckle fades as he clocks all the murderous glances aimed his way. "I'm kidding! Tough crowd. We'll probably just hit downtown. The bride has nothing to worry about."

Ro has a death grip on her drink. "I wasn't worried. Enzo can do what he wants. I want him to have a good time."

"Wait." Sergio pulls out his phone. "So, you are okay with a strip club?"

"No." Benji twirls his short butter knife between his fingers. "My sister doesn't want her fiancé at a strip club. And this isn't really dinner table conversation, so let's move on."

Benji can always be counted on to shut down a conversation, and I've never loved him more for it. A smile touches Ro's lips.

Gia grins at me and Alessia. "You two should come by my room tomorrow after dinner to get ready. I've got matching tops we can wear if you're game."

Alessia is busy texting on her phone, so I jump in to match Gia's enthusiasm. "I cannot wait . I'm game for anything."

Ro's smile is sly. "Don't tell Gia that. My party girl will corrupt you."

"Oh, who are we corrupting? I can help with that." Sergio's head turns as though he's a floodlight turned on by the words party girl and corrupt . His gaze lands on me. "Remind me your name, sweetheart—"

"She's a taken woman, Serge , " Sebastian says evenly. "Don't call her sweetheart."

The table goes quiet.

Something pulls tight behind my belly button as my skin flushes hot. Sebastian is not the one I'm taken by, but my body didn't get the memo.

"Uh, yeah." Benji crosses his arms. He can look menacing when he wants to, even in a ridiculous costume. "What he said."

Get the guy an Oscar, honestly.

Sergio shrugs. "Cool, happy for you two. No disrespect intended."

Dinner service begins, and not a moment too soon.

Since there's no ordering involved, we're free to sit here as the food is brought out by a team of three servers in Foxfire Lodge uniforms. As the table gets distracted chatting about other things, Sebastian leans over. "You okay?"

I do my best not to let my gaze linger on his face. "Sure. Never better!"

"Okay. You just seem a little off, is all."

Maybe I am. Maybe I'm too aware of him at my side, just like I was too aware of him in the lake, and on the pickleball court, and in the steam room.

And I'm starting to feel really crappy about that, given what I'm doing here.

Working his way clockwise around the table, a server drops off Sebastian's dish. The tangy smell of seafood hits me full force.

"Thank you, sir." Sebastian moves his napkin to his lap.

My own dish appears seconds later, ceramic clinking against the table as the server sets it down.

I thank him as the smell overpowers me.

"Thank you. And what is this?" Benji asks as his dish is delivered, somehow making the inquiry sound polite.

" Capelonghe veneziane ," Ro says. "Razor clams. One of Mom's favorite appetizers, so this is to appease her. But the main course is one of my favorites!"

Benji grits his teeth. "It's salmon, isn't it."

"You know me well."

Clams. Salmon. Unfortunately, the mere idea of both makes me queasy. But I would never in a million years say that, so I take to poking my appetizer with my fork until it's time to poke my main dish with my fork.

The table is chatty, especially after the clams are cleared. The conversation is rapid fire from there, and I'm left wondering which inevitably will play out first between Gia killing Sergio or Ro killing Sergio.

Alessia stands shortly after the main course is delivered and takes her fanny pack with her, whispers something in Sebastian's ear, and scoots out of the building.

"She's got a sensitive stomach," Sebastian explains.

I'm glad I'm not the only one.

Twenty minutes after the salmon touches down, Mamma V materializes behind Ro and Enzo's seats. Nineties attire looks very natural on her, because nothing I've ever seen her wear has been from this decade. She has a precarious grasp on her wineglass. "Hello puppets. Having fun?"

Ro looks up and backward. "Yes, Ma. We're all good over here."

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure. I know how disappointed you must be that the Mazzellis ignored your theme."

"It's fine." Ro's face flushes red as she takes a long drag of her wine. "Just wanted everyone to look the same and not be so divided, but it is what it is. I can't control what people do."

Mamma V bids Enzo a scathing look as he forks salmon into his mouth, seemingly oblivious. "Nor should you have to. You say the word and I'll talk to each and every last one of them—"

"No thank you." Ro pushes up from her chair. "It's about time to start the fire outside, I'm going to go make sure the s'mores station is set up. Excuse me."

Mamma V watches her daughter disappear before dropping her gaze to Enzo. Her tone is conspiratorial. "Since I have you alone with your friends, what time can we expect ‘La Serenata?' I know we're breaking tradition, since Rosalina isn't sleeping at our home tonight, but close enough!"

Enzo's face goes blank. "What is that?"

An entire Shakespearean tragedy plays out on Mamma V's face. "You…don't already know? You don't have a plan for serenading her in front of my family as generations of prospective grooms have done before you?"

"Oh, the singing thing." He tugs nervously on his neon shirt, panic streaking across his face like a comet."Respectfully, we won't be doing that, Mrs. Ferraro."

Several people have taken out their phones, including Sebastian. I'm almost certain everyone is searching for the phrase "La Serenata . "

"Oh." Mamma V fans herself. "But you know how important tradition is to Rosalina. Doesn't that mean something to you?"

Enzo's thick brows furrow like he's not sure that's true of his future wife."She's never mentioned it to me, and it's not really our style. I think I have a good pulse on what Rosalina likes."

Mamma V opens and closes her mouth twice before forcing her lips to turn up. "I see. Well, I'll just tell all my family that the tradition dies with you two. I'm sure they'll understand."

Eagle-Eye Cherry's "Save Tonight" wails through the hall as Enzo blinks up at the immovable chess piece that is Mamma V's body. "Great." He pauses as she glares at him expectantly. "Um. Thank you?"

"My pleasure."

Gia clears her throat. "You sure you don't even want to try, Enzo? I can help you."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Gia. You just take care of my girl this week." Enzo stands up. "I need some air. I'm going to take a walk outside."

A fork clatters against ceramic as Sergio makes haste to follow him.

The table shudders as Gia pushes back. "I'm going to check on the bride."

Mamma V can clear a table, that's for sure. It's just Benji, Sebastian, and I left.

Her eagle eye moves to her son next. "You're looking festive tonight, Benjamino. I love seeing you get into the spirit of things."

He bids her a brief, tight smile. "Nora's handiwork."

She watches him devour the rest of his dinner in three bites. "What's the rush?"

"There's a documentary premiering at nine that I have to watch," Benji says around a mouthful. He swallows. "I'm discussing it tomorrow during my live online lecture or else I'd catch it later."

"Can't you just use the computer"—she mimes typing—"and have it tell you what the documentary is about?"

Benji wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "No."

"And your lecture tomorrow—"

"—is bright and early so as not to interfere with any wedding events. Lucky, isn't it?"

She lays a hand on her chest. "So lucky. I'm glad you have such flexible work. Gives you plenty of time to study for the bar exam."

I choke on my sip of wine. The bar exam, and the lawyer path Benji is no longer on, is number one on the Do Not Discuss list.

I rise to my feet, mentally preparing myself for a night of reading in the chair in our room while he watches a documentary about methane gas or some such topic. Maybe I can at least con him into snapping a selfie in front of the cool backdrop before we exit.

"Nora, you don't have to run off, too. Benjamino can work on his own. Stay and mingle with the family. There will be those marshmallow sandwiches by the fire pit."

"They're just called s'mores, Ma." Benji looks down at me. "And yeah, you should hang out if you want."

I hold his eye, suspicious. He holds mine right back.

"Stay," he finally says. "Find my sister. There's a marshmallow sandwich in your future. I'll see you later?"

"I'll walk you to the door."

"No need." He gestures at my plate. "You've still got your salmon."

What a terrible time for my friend to forget how much I hate seafood.

I glance at my largely untouched dinner. "Right. Of course. I love all this."

"It's one of our favorite family dishes," Mamma V says. "You'll be enjoying it at our house for many Sunday dinners to come."

I stew in my own regret as she follows Benji toward the exit, no doubt chatting his ear off.

And then there were two.

Sebastian taps the edge of my plate. "A future full of salmon and clams. You must be so excited about all the seafood."

"My joy is immeasurable." I peer sideways. A dangerous thrill skitters down my spine. "You remembered."

He reaches for his wineglass. "We talked about it less than eight hours ago. If I'd already forgotten your weird diet specifications it would be cause for concern. So, what are you going to do about dinner?"

"Nothing. I've got a granola bar in my suitcase, and the promise of a marshmallow sandwich. I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You need something substantial to eat. More than one food group, preferably. What have you had today?" His thigh falls flush with mine under the table.

My heartbeat picks up to a canter. "I had a bagel I snuck back to my room after continental breakfast for lunch. Bagels constitute several pieces of the food pyramid."

"Whatever you say." He drops his attention to his phone.

He's not in a skirt that exposes the skin of his thigh, so he may not even feel where we're touching. But I sure do.

On the other side of the room, a staff member throws open two large glass doors, bringing the cool outside breeze and the smell of fire inside. A huge wave of people migrate in that direction, drawn to the flame dancing in a silver pit. Or to the promise of dessert.

Sebastian looks up from his phone. "Okay, we're set. There's a door on the back wall that leads to the service kitchen. Meet me in five minutes."

"What?" I sit up straighter. "Why?"

"I've got friends in high places. You're eating tonight."

"You didn't have to do that. Really, I'm not that hungry."

My stomach grumbles.

He laughs as he balls up his linen napkin and tosses it on the table. "You almost had me, until your body gave you away."

As he rises from his chair, I can't help but wish my body would also keep its opinions about Sebastian to itself, too.