Chapter Two

Sebastian

A text from my parents contains one of three things: an alert of a life-threatening emergency in their region (rare), the most incredible story you've ever heard in your life (common), or an outdated viral video (also common).

My mother's most recent text has a link, followed by the caption Not sure if you've seen this…kind of wild! Don't forget to update us about your life.

I brace for the Charlie -bit-my-finger video from 2007 or something similar as I click. Instead, a news article fills my phone screen.

Movers and Shakers: Former Mount Sinai attending physicians Carlo and Nadine Rossi earn the AMA Foundation's Excellence in Medicine Award—the first husband and wife team to share the award in the foundation's history.

My awed laugh fills my bedroom. Only she would describe something this impressive as "kind of wild," like it's not their norm. It makes me miss them all the more.

I scroll down the article.

Currently serving abroad in Doctors Without Borders, the pair speaks on their shared calling to provide care to underserved—

"That's it ? One measly suitcase?"

A strangled expletive leaves my mouth as I whip around and pocket my phone. "Jesus, you scared me. How long have you been standing there?"

Nonna Stella—Nella—sips her acid-green frozen margarita from the doorway of my bedroom. "Long enough to know you've under-packed. Italian weddings are very distinguished, every event and meal an opportunity to impress."

I bite back a laugh. If I know one thing about Enzo Mazzelli, the groom and one of my oldest friends, it's that he's not the type to throw a stuffy, uptight event. I'd bet good money his wedding is about to be a rager.

"The invitation said lakeside formal ," I tell Nella, tugging on the stuck zipper on my broken suitcase until it relents. "But for six days in the Adirondacks in June, I've packed an outfit for each season to be safe."

"For someone who moves as much as you do, you really should splurge on respectable luggage." Her house slippers drag on the floor as she shuffles toward my dresser. "Where do you keep your slacks and knickers?"

I die a swift death at the word knickers as she invades the sanctuary of my room.

Nella is the reason I took a year off from my regular job opening chapters of The Boys and Girls Club across the country. She was secretly struggling with her house's wear and tear, but my best friend Alessia Mazzelli was here to see the signs—the hole in the ceiling, perpetual warmth in the house, suspicious mold smell, warped flooring in the basement, storm-ravaged fence, broken AC. The house has had enough lingering problems after the last three hurricanes that Nella was considering selling it without telling me or my parents for fear that we'd feel pressured to help.

But I did feel pressured to help. So much so that it consumed me the last six months I was on assignment in Florida. It was like I left an oven on all the way back home and it was about to burn down Nella's whole life if I didn't get back and fix what needed fixing. This is the house where my grandparents raised my dad, and where Nella and my parents raised me until Mom and Dad went back in the field and Nella took over my parenting. The thought of it crumbling around her or overwhelming her to the point where she wanted to give it up made me feel sick to my stomach.

Moving home was the only choice. I'd do anything for Nella.

Almost anything. I draw the line at letting her rifle through my dresser in search of boxers. My dignity can't afford the hit.

"Please stop. Unless I fall in the lake every single day I'm there, you really think I'll need more than six pairs of pants?"

Her tone is firm. "You must take pride in yourself if you want to represent the Rossi family well, my handsome boy."

The innocent comment lands like a blow to the chest. If there's one thing I've never done, it's represent my family well . That ship sailed the second I was born to the most impressive, altruistic people on the face of the planet.

Meanwhile, I've spent the last year painting houses for rich New Yorkers who require me to sign NDAs for all the salacious things I encounter on the job.

Volunteering as a mentor at the local Boys and Girls Club here and spending a few nights a week helping teenage athletes stay on the straight and narrow has kept me involved in the organization, at least. I'll be back to developing clubs at the end of summer.

If only that ever felt like enough.

I shake off the thought. "Understood. But I'm not reopening that suitcase for anything because it may never shut again. Let's take this party to the living room, shall we? Alessia and Eloise will be here any—"

The doorbell cuts me off, followed a second later by Alessia's voice. "Rossi fam, we're home!"

Nella abandons my dresser, glee lighting her eyes. "The girls are here! Hurry up, Sebastian, you're running behind schedule."

Can't imagine my interloper had anything to do with that.

Fifty or more photos of me at every awkward age watch me from the walls as I drag my suitcase down the hall to the foyer. The plastic carpet protector crunches underfoot. I've tried numerous times to get rid of this and every plastic runner in the house, but Nella gets twitchy about exposed carpet. Or exposed furniture.

Alessia's flame-red hair is piled on her head in an elaborate style, but otherwise she's dressed down for our five-hour road trip—a simple dress and her usual platform boots. Her girlfriend Eloise, a head shorter and perpetually beaming, is in a clean catering jacket despite the early hour.

"Hello, darlings," Nella coos as she extends her arms for a triple embrace. "Eloise, you cut your bangs! And Alessia, I can't remember the last time I saw you without your Knicks cap. Look at all that beautiful hair you've been hiding."

"I did the braid crown," El says proudly, stepping out of the hug to admire her handiwork. "Doesn't she look fabulous?"

"Stunning," Nella insists.

"Like a less murderous Daenerys Targaryen." I cross my arms and lean a shoulder against the wall.

Alessia shoots me a quelling look. "Hilarious. I'm all for getting dressed up to catfish my family into thinking this is how I always look, but trust and believe I will be undoing these at the first whiff of a headache." She bids her girlfriend a serene smile. "But thank you for making me look good."

El shoots her a wink. "You could never look anything other than good, babe."

Nella presses her hand to her heart. "You two are the sweetest." Her head swivels my way with owlish efficiency. "That could be you, you know. If you'd get your head out of your tuchus and go out on a date once in a while."

She's not wrong. I haven't dated since moving back to Great River. Longer than that, actually. The perky brunette I met a few days ago—Nora—pops into my mind, along with her great legs, party hat, and alluring eyes. Women in glasses are my weakness, and she was no exception. I got so swept up in her and her cute babbling that I forgot I don't date.

I'd been on the verge of asking her out when our conversation was derailed by a giant black-haired man who barged into the bookstore, seemingly ready to burn it down.

It was for the best. I have no business dating, least of all right now with Nella always hovering. And when she's not nearby, she has spies all over this town.

A phantom pain twinges in my chest. When my relationship with my ex-almost-fiancée Kelcey ended, it broke Nella's heart. I was tormented enough over the breakup; having to manage Nella's disappointment was almost unbearable. I thought I'd live to see another wedding and She was such a nice girl were constant refrains. I won't give her false hope again. I refuse to introduce her to anyone else, let alone bring someone home, until I'm halfway down the aisle.

Not that I'll ever make it down the aisle. Moving is the only constant in my career, and Kelcey made it clear that no woman would willingly uproot her life every year to follow me around. I sure as shit won't ask one to again. Ever.

Luckily, I have a week away at this wedding to clear my head of the unexpected temptation that is Nora.

"Well," I say, trying to deflect the conversation away from my life, "I think you should date."

She blows out a dismissive breath before taking a sip of her marg. " I went on a lovely date last month to the theater with that man who loads my groceries at ShopRite. It's high time you bring someone home."

I scoff. Bring someone home ? I have an eighty-year-old roommate. Even if I did date, what am I supposed to do? Invite a woman over and cuddle up on the plastic-covered Victorian couch while Nella lurks in the kitchen? Hard pass.

"Alessia, talk to our boy about dating, would you?" Nella grouses. "I'd like to see him settle down before I croak."

Alessia chokes on a sip from her coffee thermos. "I will definitely talk to him about dating, Nella," she sputters. "It's a five-hour drive and it's bound to come up."

And on that note, I slip on the reading glasses I pretend I don't need and pull up a live traffic map on my phone. "Every passing minute, the roads get more congested. Should we pack up the car?"

Alessia and Eloise exchange a loaded look for a full three seconds, communicating with widening eyes and curt nods. I swear Eloise mouths do it.

"Right, so…" Alessia edges toward the front door. "I have one quick thing to tell you before we hit the road, Seb—"

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Nella interrupts. "I packed you kids a cooler for the car. Roast beef sandwiches, deviled eggs, and leftover chocolate cake from the weekend."

My stomach rumbles. If "home" had a flavor, it'd be Nella's cooking.

"You spoil us too much," I scold, pulling her into a side hug.

"It's the least I can do after taking all your money at poker last week," Nella quips over her shoulder as she starts for the kitchen. "You sure you don't want a few frozies for the road?"

I snort. Frozen margaritas are Nella's passion in life, second only to meddling. "Sounds very illegal."

She shrugs, unbothered. "You're not all driving."

"Let me go stop her from making us a thermos of liquor," I say as I shoo Alessia and Eloise along. "Go start the car."

By the time I return with the cooler, my suitcase is gone, the door is open, and bright morning light floods the foyer, spilling over the travertine. The pleasant breeze that ruffles my hair as I step outside is almost enough to distract from the boxy pink Celebrations by El catering truck flashing hazard lights in the street.

Strange.

I cut across the yard toward Alessia and El, who are huddled up and whispering next to Alessia's car in the driveway. Nella follows and circles the vehicle, inspecting the tires.

I jab my thumb sideways. "What's the truck doing here, El? I thought we were all riding together in Alessia's car."

Alessia cracks her knuckles one at a time. The nervous move is at odds with her upbeat tone. "Oh, did I not tell you I convinced Enzo to hire Eloise's catering company? Baby's first destination event!"

The poor girl is about to work her ass off while the rest of us vacation. "I didn't even know that possibility was on the table."

Eloise eyes her truck affectionately. "Yes. In my girlfriend's infinite brilliance, she convinced her brother that the staff at the Foxfire Lodge can't be trusted to handle the unique, seafood-intensive menu requirements of a traditional Italian-Catholic wedding and that they should hire my company. I'm going to make bank. Though I will have to cook some weird shit in the next two weeks, which dampens my enthusiasm a little."

"Follow my recipes exactly and you'll have no problem whatsoever," Nella insists. "Pending you have high quality ingredients. You can't use just any ol' octopus or squid. Or eel, especially."

"Eel?" My lips turn down of their own volition. I really should've asked more questions when I RSVP'd to this wedding.

Alessia lays a hand on her stomach, face twisted in disgust. She is very much not in the food business and happens to be the pickiest eater I know. "And now I'm nauseous."

"Don't worry, I'll make you a special plate for every meal," Eloise offers. "Only the finest buttered pasta for my lady."

Alessia pulls her into a lingering hug, complete with neck nuzzling. "And that is why I conned the bride and groom into hiring you. So I could get the special girlfriend menu."

Leaving them to their lovey-dovey moment, I steal back my suitcase from Alessia's side. As I toss it into the back of her SUV alongside four giant suitcases and two garment bags, it occurs to me that maybe Nella had a point about my Spartan packing.

"Oye, Mazzelli!" I slam the trunk shut and hook a right around the car to rejoin the group. "How formal is this wedding, anyway? I'm not sure I packed enough of the right stuff."

"You didn't," Nella barbs.

Alessia shrugs this off. "None of the clothing any of us brought will be good enough for my snobby family, so we might as well be comfortable, right? Can't believe he even invited them all."

"Yes, it's a huge surprise your brother invited your family to his wedding," I deadpan. "But surely your dad and whoever else comes will play nice at an event this important?"

Alessia snorts. "No. And we will all be emotionally anemic by the end of the week."

I nod toward Eloise. "Don't let her scare you too much. Her family is terrifying, but they'll be on their best behavior. This will be your first time meeting the family, right?" I chip her shoulder with a closed fist. "Big step."

Eloise moves her bangs out of her eyes, and then proceeds to stare right at the sun. "Uh— See, the thing about it is…Alessia?"

"She won't be meeting the family this trip. Not officially ." Alessia drags her gaze from Eloise to me. "Because I'd like to tell everyone you're my boyfriend."

With that, my best friend—who has been openly and exclusively interested in women since high school—opens her car door, as if that's the end of the conversation.

I shove it shut as I gape at her. "What?"

"Sorry, let me be more specific: I want you to play my boyfriend at this wedding."

"Why?" I glance at El. "Did you know about this?"

"It was half my idea, actually." She backs slowly toward her truck, which I'm just now piecing together is filled with an unconscionable amount of seafood in preparation for the week. "Fun, right? I'll let you two talk. Bye Nella!"

Nella waves but never takes her eyes off me and Alessia like we're her daily soaps and someone is about to reveal the results of a paternity test.

"Alessia." I gesture broadly. "Please explain."

She steeples her hands beneath her chin. "Fine. You know that other than Enzo, my family is a giant judgmental mess, and that my dad, specifically, is a pretentious asshat, correct?"

"Sure. But that's always been true."

She blows out a breath. "Most of my family members don't know I'm in a relationship with a woman. Every Mazzelli over the age of fifty is enthusiastically Catholic, especially the people flying in from Umbria." She hugs her chest. "I'm not sure how they'd react, and I don't want to overshadow Enzo's wedding by announcing a new relationship. It's his day, and I don't want drama. There will be enough of that without me adding to it."

"Okay. I can understand that. But are you sure you don't want to just tell people you're single?"

A dark laugh slips from her mouth as she flips the bill of my cap from front to back. "Oh, Sebastian, you sweet, gorgeous fool. I can't show up at a traditional Italian wedding alone . Being a single person at the age of thirty would draw all kinds of unwanted attention. And the last time I saw some of these people, I still planned on medical school. And, since I sure as hell don't want to discuss that topic, I need a strapping gentleman with good table manners and no criminal record by my side to ward off any questions about my ‘disappointing' life."

Her words hang in the summer air. Medical school was our great shared "almost." I get why she'd want to shrivel up and play possum at family functions when the topic skirts medicine. Once upon a time I thought I'd be a doctor, like my own parents. But I learned it wasn't going to happen for me when I failed high school chemistry. On-level chemistry—not even the advanced class. Anatomy and physiology were no easier.

Being terrible at science and mediocre at math, as it turns out, is kind of an occupational hazard when pursuing medicine.

I mull over her proposition, not that I'd deny my friend of twenty years anything. This favor would be a great way to repay Alessia for checking on Nella weekly while I'm working in other states, and for feeding me intel on the state of her house. The girl is hardwired to help others, and I don't want to let her down. I'll already be at the wedding anyway.

But first, the request begs a few questions. "Enzo knows about you and Eloise, doesn't he?"

She waves this off. "He knows. Z loves Eloise. But no one else in the family knows yet. Especially not our dad. I'll tell him after the wedding if he's lucky."

Alessia doesn't tell that man anything if she can help it. The only reason he knows she opened an audiology clinic and manages the business side of things is because other people relayed the message. "How do you keep any information private from a family who all lives within spitting distance of each other?"

"It pays not to have social media of any kind. Z and I mingle with the rest of the Mazzellis only at Christmas and Easter. We see Nonna Gloria more often, but I've been steadily feeding her lies about my life since the dawn of time. As far as she's concerned, I'm still considering reapplying to medical schools to follow in her footsteps and searching for a man who embodies all the qualities of my late grandfather."

"Families are complicated," Nella tells Alessia. "We want our loved ones to be happy and successful, but we're blinded by our own definition of what the word means. Just because Gloria has done well for herself doesn't mean you have to be just like her. You should be free to forge your own path, make your own choices."

A smile touches Alessia's lips. "Thanks, Nella. But it's not just my family that's the problem—there's drama with the bride's family. The Mazzellis and Ferraros have been at war for generations. Enzo's fiancée is a Ferraro, and my family does not fuck with Ferraros."

"I mean…Enzo clearly does," I retort. "Who is this girl? What is she like?"

"I don't know Rosalina, but I do know my dad was nearly expelled from high school his senior year because he got into a fight with Rosalina's dad, Giuseppe. Neither family is known for being reasonable."

"So, Enzo is marrying an enemy of your family, and the fathers of the bride and groom hate each other," I muse.

"Everyone," she clarifies. " Everyone hates each other."

"This wedding ought to be fun. Bye, Nella." I kiss her on the crown of her head so she can return to her morning, even though we both know damn well she'll stand in the driveway waving until our car disappears from view like a wife seeing her sailor off to sea.

Alessia's hopeful eyes meet mine. "So you'll do it?"

"Anything for you, Mazzelli." I grab her car door so she doesn't have to.

Boyfriend duty starts now. But whether or not we can sell this farce remains to be seen.