Cuff Me Page 3

  Jill’s head whipped around. “No! I’m dying to see everyone. And your mom’s cooking…” She rubbed her belly.

  “Okay, so what about the rock? You want to take it off for now, wait until you figure out how to tell everyone? Because you know it’s going to take all of thirty seconds for Ava or Maggie to spot that bad boy, and then it’s going to be all over.”

  Jill twisted the ring on her finger as she stared down at her cell phone. The cell that hadn’t once buzzed with a message of any kind from her partner. No welcome home, no hey… nothing.

  She glanced up at Elena. “It’s worth celebrating, right?”

  Elena’s mouth dropped open. “Um, I’m offended by the question. Of course it is.”

  Jill reached across and squeezed her friend. “Then I can’t think of anyone I’d rather celebrate with more than your family.”

  “Hell yeah!” Elena said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone. “I’m totally telling my liquor guy to have a shit-ton of champagne delivered to Anth’s place.”

  “I love that you have a liquor guy,” Jill said with a smile. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

  Elena smiled without looking up from her phone. “I’ve missed you too. We all have.”

  Jill’s happiness slipped slightly, and she turned to look out at the slowly passing city.

  She was sure that most of the Morettis had missed her, but she wasn’t sure about all of them.

  And she certainly wasn’t sure about the one that mattered. The one that had always mattered.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time Vincent found a parking spot even remotely close to his older brother’s apartment, he was a good thirty minutes late to Jill’s surprise party.

  Elena had already sent him a scolding text that he’d missed the surprise part.

  So had his mother.

  He hadn’t heard from Jill, but then she wasn’t the type to bust his balls about stuff like that. She liked to reserve that for work-related topics.

  Still, he regretted being late. But as it turned out, thinking of a welcome home gift for one’s partner is something that should not be left for the actual homecoming day.

  After his haircut, Vin’s plan had been to go out and get… something to welcome Jill home.

  But what was supposed to be a basic, simple errand had led to Vincent driving all over the Goddamn city, growing increasingly clueless on what was appropriate.

  Flowers? No. Vin didn’t do flowers. To say nothing of what his brothers would have done if Vincent had shown up with fucking roses.

  Wine? Fitting. Jill loved wine. But seeing as the wine was already likely to be flowing freely at Anth’s place, a little anticlimactic.

  Jewelry? Fuck no.

  Clothes. Even Vin knew that was a no-no. You get the wrong size, you’re a dead man.

  But damn it, he’d wanted to get something. Needed to. Needed to show her…

  He’d gotten her a doughnut.

  A maple bar, which as far as he was concerned was a sorry excuse for a doughnut. If it wasn’t chocolate, he didn’t bother. But the first day he and Jill had been paired up, and she’d talked his fucking ear off, that was the first thing she’d told him.

  Hi, I’m Jill! I think we’re going to be great partners, but before we can be best friends, we’re going to have to know each other’s favorite kind of doughnut. Mine’s a maple bar…

  Vincent smiled at the memory as he knocked at the door.

  There was no answer, and he was about to let himself in, when it opened.

  A wall of sound hit him. Typical Moretti family gathering volume: loud.

  “Vin! I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Vincent flashed a smile at his new sister-in-law. Maggie Walker—no, Maggie Moretti—was just about the sweetest woman on the planet, and far too good for Anthony.

  She was dressed in a knee-length navy dress, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders, a warm smile in place, as always.

  “Hi, dear,” he said, kissing her cheek as he slipped in the front door.

  Vincent turned to face her, reaching out a hand and resting it unapologetically against her slightly rounded belly. “How’s my nephew?”

  She smiled and glanced down. “Don’t let Anth hear you say that. He’s convinced it’s a girl.”

  “Only because he knows a junior version of him will be an absolute nightmare.”

  Anthony Moretti appeared at his wife’s side. “I heard that, brother dearest. And, actually, I’m a junior. So if we have a son and name him Anthony, he’d be the third.”

  Vin shook his head. “You sound like an asshole.”

  Anth shrugged. “We’re Italian. I don’t make the rules.”

  “Whatever. Everyone all here?”

  “Seeing as the party started at six, yeah, everyone’s here, ” Anth said.

  “See? Asshole,” Vincent grumbled, starting to brush past his brother and head toward the kitchen where all the noise was coming from.

  Where Jill was.

  Anth grabbed his arm, and Vincent glanced up in surprise before shaking free. “What the hell, man? I’m thirty minutes late. Not a big deal.”

  Anth opened his mouth, but shut it again after glancing at Maggie.

  Vin shot a glance over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, whose expression was troubled. “Am I missing something?”

  Neither responded, and he shrugged. “Whatever.”

  He continued toward the kitchen, his eyes automatically scanning the room for Jill, even as he registered that the hand holding the bag with the doughnut was slightly sweaty.

  You idiot. Should have left it in the car.

  His eyes locked on the group of women in the corner, but before he could find Jill, who was several inches shorter than the rest of them, his younger brother stepped in front of him, blocking his field of vision.

  “Champagne?” Luc asked.

  Vincent accepted the glass, mostly to get it out of his face, before frowning at the fussy flute. “Is there no red opened?”

  Luc clinked his glass against Vin’s. “We’re celebrating, douche bag.”

  Vin took a sip. It was actually pretty good. “What are we celebrating?”

  There was the briefest of pauses before Luc responded, and Vin’s instincts went on high alert. Now both brothers were acting strangely.

  Not good.

  “That Jill’s home,” Luc said.

  Vincent’s eyes narrowed. His brother’s voice was too cheerful, even for Luc.

  Testing his brother, he stepped to the side. Luc sidestepped with him, blocking Vin’s view of the women.

  Bingo. Vincent took another casual sip of the champagne. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you and Anthony going to flip for it?”

  “We already did flip for it,” Luc grumbled. “I won, and yet I notice Big Brother’s conveniently loitering with his hot wife by the front door.”

  “Great,” Vin said, clamping his brother on the shoulder. “You can tell me later then. In the meantime, you cool if I go greet the guest of honor?”

  “Vin.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, turning to find that Anthony had decided to join them, and both brothers were giving him a grim look. “Who died?”

  Anth grabbed a handful of Vincent’s leather jacket before dragging him backward away from the kitchen.

  Vin shrugged free and glared. “I swear to God, will you two clowns just—”

  “Jill’s getting married.”

  It was Luc that blurted it out, and Vincent very slowly turned to stare at his younger brother. Luc’s blue eyes gazed back at him, and there was no trace of his usual humor.

  Vin slowly shifted his gaze to Anthony, whose look was equally somber. “I’m sorry, man.”

  Vincent shook his head. “What do you mean she’s getting married? Who the fuck is she marrying?”

  “That guy she was seeing in Florida.”

  “What guy?!” Vincent was practically shouti
ng now. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Jill couldn’t be getting fucking married. She’d have told him. She’d have…

  “Well maybe if you’d made the time to talk to her, you might have known she was seeing someone,” Anthony snapped.

  “Hell, maybe if you’d made the time to talk to her, she wouldn’t have been seeing anyone,” Luc muttered into his champagne flute.

  Vin’s eyes narrowed on his brother. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it’s supposed to mean, you dumb, cowardly—”

  Anth cleared his throat before socking Vincent in the shoulder.

  It was as much warning as Vin had before a small, warm body collided against his.

  Jill.

  He’d been picturing this moment in his head for weeks now, and the joy, he’d expected.

  The pain… not so much.

  Jill was getting married.

  Her arms were around his neck, and he very slowly wrapped one arm around her back before letting his face find the crook of her neck.

  He told himself it was just a natural position, but there was nothing natural about the way he wanted to linger. Or the way his lips accidentally brushed her neck, or the way he wanted to kiss her there. To…

  Jill was getting married.

  She pulled back slightly before putting her hands on either side of his face and giving his head a little shake. “Would you believe that I’ve missed your ugly face?”

  Her smile was all warmth and friendliness and familiarity, and he resisted the urge to rub his chest, which physically ached.

  Tell her you’ve missed her too. Tell her that you…

  Vin thrust the now completely crumpled bag at her. “Here.”

  She blinked in surprise, looking completely puzzled as she hooked a finger into the opening of the white bag.

  He felt the curious gaze of his family as everyone gathered around, but he ignored them. Only Jill mattered, and…

  Damn it, man, a doughnut?!

  She had a hard time pulling the bag apart, probably because he’d smushed the contents to death, and it was just…

  Good God, it was like he was a fucking Neanderthal.

  He was about to rip the bag out of her hand and make some lame excuse about having to be somewhere… anywhere, when Jill’s startled blue eyes snapped up at his.

  She looked stunned. And… happy?

  Please let her be happy.

  “How’d you know?” she asked, tilting her head.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “How’d you know that a maple bar was all I could think about when I was in Florida? Would you believe they can’t make a decent one?”

  “No such thing as a decent maple bar,” he said gruffly. “They’re disgusting.”

  She ignored him as she pulled the completely flattened doughnut out of the bag and took an enormous bite, smiling happily as she chewed. “Perfect.”

  “It’s not going to be perfect when you ruin the dinner I spent all day preparing,” Vin’s grandma grumbled as she generously topped off her champagne glass.

  “You spent all day preparing, did you? Was that before or after yoga, or your ‘afternoon delight,’” Vin’s mother said, outraged.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Luc said, moving between the two women before a fight could erupt. “Two things. No fighting about cooking. Remember? That’s why we hosted this shindig at Anth’s place. Second thing, afternoon delight. Thought we agreed that Nonna’s geriatric sex life was off-limits for family dinner conversation?”

  “Oh, Luca,” Nonna said with a shake of her head. “You’re telling me you and Ava never—”

  Luc’s girlfriend gently reached out and tipped Nonna’s champagne glass up to her lips. “Let’s not finish that sentence, hmm?”

  Vincent barely heard any of this.

  He was too busy watching the way Jill happily devoured her doughnut.

  She was holding the sugary mess with her left hand.

  Which was adorned with a brand-new diamond that was threatening to break the heart he didn’t know he had.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jill was getting married.

  Vin had repeated the thought to himself at least a dozen times in the thirty minutes since his brothers had dropped the bomb.

  Jill was getting married.

  Nope.

  Still didn’t feel like fact. It wasn’t… right.

  “She looks happy.”

  Vin flicked his eyes to the side, trying to figure out if his older brother was looking for a fight, but Anthony merely stood there with his usual unreadable expression. Plus, he was holding out a beer, so…

  Vincent accepted the beer with a grunt.

  “You don’t,” Anth said, shifting so he mimicked Vincent’s posture of back to the wall. It was a place Vin found himself a lot. Off to the side. Out of the way. Watching.

  “I don’t what?” Vincent asked.

  “Look happy,” his brother said.

  Vincent didn’t respond as he took a sip of beer, not really bothered by the observation.

  Anth was hardly one to talk about looking happy.

  Anthony Moretti was the oldest of the Moretti siblings, older than Vincent by two years, and nearly as taciturn as Vincent himself.

  Less so now though, Vincent had to admit. His brother had become a different man since meeting and falling for Maggie Walker. Vin couldn’t blame him; Maggie was good people.

  Still, even with his beautiful new wife and baby on the way, Anth wasn’t exactly forthcoming with big toothy grins.

  Of the five Moretti siblings, he and Anth were the most alike. Marc and Luc were more easily likable. Quick with a smile and a joke. Elena, as the only girl, was the family darling, and as quick with a smile as she was with a tantrum.

  But Anth and Vincent were cut of the same cloth. Quiet, reserved, ambitious.

  It was these similarities that prevented them from getting along.

  That, and the fact that Anth had never been good about minding his own business. He was classic oldest sibling in all the worst ways. Bossy. Interfering. Condescending…

  “Aren’t you two cute, over here looking all sulky and pissed,” came a too-cheerful voice from Vincent’s right.

  Both he and Anth turned to glare at Luc. Yet another thing Vin and Anth had in common: they were both quite adept at getting irritated with their youngest brother.

  “Shut it, bambino,” Vin said. Luc, being the baby of the family, took his fair share of shit but was remarkably good at never letting his older brothers get under his skin.

  Case in point, Luc merely grinned wider before pivoting around so his back too was to the wall. “I see why you two losers like it over here in the corner. Great view of the womenfolk.”

  Vincent let himself look in the direction Luc indicated. It was, indeed, an excellent view of the females in the room, and that right there only served to aggravate Vincent’s bad mood.

  Jill was getting married.

  So very absurd was the idea that Vincent had briefly held on to hope that she was just jacking with him.

  But no. The ring was real. The nonstop chatter about the dress was real.

  The engagement was real.

  Currently her left hand was the center of a girly circle.

  Vincent’s sister Elena clasped Jill’s wrist firmly as the rest of the women oohed and ahhed over the atrocious rock on her finger.

  His sister’s enthusiasm, he could see. Jill and Elena had been best friends for years. Maggie and Ava too made sense. The four women had been thick as thieves ever since Luc and Anth had brought Ava and Maggie into the family.

  But his mother was also making squealy girl-ish noises, fussing with Jill’s hair every second, talking about dress shopping and updos and other horrors.

  Even Nonna—his feisty, zero-BS grandmother—was getting in on the nonsense, all but hopping around Jill, demanding to be a bridesmaid.

  “Who’s the guy?” Luc asked qui
etly.

  “Why you asking me?” Vincent asked testily.

  “I wasn’t,” Luc snapped. “I was talking to Anth, who actually knows something about the three months she’s been gone.”

  “Three months,” Vin interrupted. “Nobody else thinks it’s bullshit that some dude proposed after three months?”

  “Didn’t you guys talk during that time?” Luc asked.

  “Yes, we talked,” he ground out.

  Barely. Vincent hated talking on the phone, but that’s not why he’d tried to keep their phone calls short. He’d tried to limit how much he and Jill talked while she was away because it had reminded him that she wasn’t here.

  “And she didn’t tell you that she was seeing someone?” Anthony asked.

  Vincent said nothing, and Luc leaned forward to glare at Anth. “Obviously not.”

  “I’m just sayin’,” Anthony said.

  “What?” Vin snapped. “What are you just sayin’?”

  He felt rather than saw his two brothers exchange a look.

  Luc sighed. “I know Jill can be impulsive, but this—”

  Yes. This. This was…

  “Whoa, what the hell did I miss?”

  All three brothers looked away from the group of women to see their father standing there, looking puzzled.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, pouring himself a glass from the open bottle of champagne. “Did your mother tell you she made me go to the dentist? Tricked me into it, then didn’t have the decency to apologize.”

  “It’s a rough life, Dad,” Luc said. “Rough life.”

  Tony Moretti grunted before gesturing with his wineglass toward the women. “So what’s going on there? I haven’t heard that much squealing since Elena got those new red shoes with the red soles.”

  “Louboutins,” Luc said.

  The rest of the men stared at him, and he shrugged. “What? I’m evolved.”

  “Whatever,” Tony muttered. “Why is it so high-pitched in here?”

  Again, Luc and Anth did that brotherly look that Vin pretended not to see. Which wasn’t hard. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Jill.

  She looked… different. Same bright blond hair falling around her face, same wide blue eyes, same ever-present smile.

  But tonight, she was… happy. Granted, Jill was always happy. The woman was never without a smile and had more energy than a Chihuahua with a doughnut, but she hadn’t been this glowy before.