Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,82
a purpose, and that purpose wasn’t to know every little detail about each other. This was business.
“I have Ryan.”
“Your assistant?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“A Ryan you don’t pay?” He looked perplexed, and I wanted to laugh that he was so thrown by me asking him about friends. “Do you have any friends you get drinks with? Hang out with? Went to school with?”
“I have acquaintances I get drinks with.”
“Jesus, Nico. Do you talk to anyone outside of work?” I asked, laughing.
“I have a friend from college, Xander. But he works just as much as I do and does most of his business overseas. Which was why he couldn’t attend the wedding.”
“Oh. Maybe I could meet him sometime.”
“Sure. The next time he’s in town. I think he’s just as intrigued to meet you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He wants to know the woman who could make me settle down.”
“Did you not plan on ever marrying?”
He took another bite, his brows dropping. “I didn’t think about it. I was so focused on work and building my business, I never considered anything beyond that. And then my grandpa’s health declined, and he pushed his desire to see me with a family on me, and then…you came crashing in.”
“I’d hardly call it crashing.”
“You did bump into me,” he joked.
“Oh, my god. I did not.”
“Is this going to be like Ross and Rachel and the whole break thing, where we argue about who was right and wrong for years to come?”
“One—I’m right. You were drunk and looking at your phone. Two—I still can’t get over that you watched Friends.”
“I had the flu last winter and happened to start it on Netflix and ended up watching it the whole way through.”
“It happens,” I said, nodding in understanding. “So, what are we doing with all our stuff?”
“We’ll leave it at the front desk. I have someone picking it up to take it to the house.”
“What airline are we flying with?”
“It’s a private jet Xander and I share and rent out on occasion.”
“You have your own plane?” I asked, my brows shooting high.
“It’s not like it’s a seven-forty-seven.”
“Still. I’ve never been on a private plane before.”
Giddiness flooded through me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The more I imagined driving right up to the plane and walking up the steps to the soft buttery leather, a flight attendant bringing me champagne and strawberries, the happier I got. A giggle slipped free, and I bit my lip to hold back any more.
He watched me like he saw something he’d never seen before, and I heated under his inspection.
“I’m glad I’ll get to be your first.”
He finished the innuendo with a wink, and between the night before, the pancakes, the happiness, and playfulness, something clicked in place. Something that lay with the other shards of my life in my chest snapped together with another one and eased some of the pressure.
It’s slow, bambino. A marriage born from a merger isn’t scary. It may not be the princesses you love to watch, but it has its own magic. Kind of like Beauty and the Beast. She did it for more than herself—for her family. Our business and our traditions are our family. We must respect them. This marriage may start off with resentment and a begrudging respect, but with time and patience, it grows. One sharp piece at a time, the marriage comes together, and before you realize it even happened, you love each other and can’t imagine ever not.
My mother’s words stole my breath a moment.
Were these the pieces she told me about? Did I want them to be?
Was I falling in love with my husband one small piece at a time?
For the first time, I wondered if maybe Nico was the man my mother told me about.
For the first time, the thought of Nico being my first—of being many firsts didn’t sound so bad.
Maybe this honeymoon would lock more in place.
Maybe he had the shards too, and we’d both create something by the end of all this.
Maybe I could be some of his firsts too.
Twenty-Six
Nico
Lorenzo must have been hurting financially longer than I thought because Vera’s wonder at every extravagance was better than the last.
Of course, the private plane was over the top even with the wealthiest of people, but when I asked if she flew first class, she let me know that she really didn’t travel at all. Her father went alone or not at all. She’d only been to Italy once when she was little before her mother passed.