Eat, Drink and Be . . . Married Read online

  “Her mom passed three years ago,” I explain to my mother.

  Mom reaches over the table and places a loving hand atop Leila’s. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how hard it is to lose someone close to you. I lost my Nonna, who was like a second mother to me, only a few years ago. She lived a long, fulfilling life but it doesn’t make missing her ay easier.”

  “It’s okay,” Leila nods. “She was very sick and I’m at peace with her passing because she’s no longer suffering. My dad, however, he still struggles with her absence. That’s why I find myself trying to please him at every possible turn. Like Melissa’s wedding, for instance. She and I have never been close. I was always in her way, it seemed, and I think she resented me because my father shared a happy home with me and my mom and Melissa never had that growing up. So, I guess you can say, she took her daddy issues out on me.”

  “She’s still a bitch!” My mother blurts out.

  “Ma!” I shout again.

  “What?” Mom looks at me as if I just ate the last helping of lasagna.

  Leila giggles again—a musical sound that centers us and brings our attention back to the matter at hand. “She’s right, Jude. We can’t deny it and she shouldn’t have to, either.”

  “But she’s never even met her.”

  Leila leans in and kisses my cheek. “Up until today we were all strangers, and here I am having a meeting with my fake-soon-to-be-mother-in-law, getting ready to discuss the arrangements for our wedding.”

  “This is true.” I laugh.

  “Speaking of the wedding,” Mom chimes in, standing from the table and heading to the stove to percolate an old-fashioned pot of coffee. “Mama Rosa already has everything planned from top to bottom.”

  “But . . . how?” Leila’s confused. Rightly so. She has no idea how my grandmother and her inseparable group of friends work.

  Mom looks over her shoulder and purses her lips. I take that as my cue to explain. “I already told you Mama Rosa lives for this sort of thing. Even though this isn’t exactly the wedding of your dreams, it’ll still be the wedding of your dreams.”

  “Why would she go to all this trouble for something that’s not real? For someone she doesn’t know?”

  Mom joins us again and folds her hands in front of her, resting them on the floral patterned tablecloth. “Because . . . that’s Mama Rosa.”

  “You all keep saying that, but it still doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Leila, sweetheart, as long as you’re still up for a little fun, that’s all you need to worry your pretty head about. I can take you in town this week to get a dress and buy a few personal things if you’d like, but please leave all the important stuff to Mama Rosa and her crew. She’s old. Most of her grandkids are all married now so she’s already planned their weddings. And if there’s anything she loves more than a wedding, it’s scheming. I could tell you stories about that woman that would threaten the strength of your bladder.”

  My eyes go wide. “Ma! Did you just suggest—”

  “Yes, I did. They don’t call Mama Rosa a pisser for nothing, baby.”

  Leila’s head falls back in laughter and I can only bring myself to shake my head in disbelief. This is definitely one of the most bewildering days of my life. If it weren’t for the fact our upcoming wedding was a sham, it might actually be the best day of my life, too.

  “My mother took quite a liking to you,” I say as I take an extra pillow and blanket down from the closet.

  “She’s awesome, Jude. I really like her.”

  “Yeah.” I deliberate with a crooked grin. “She is pretty cool.” The conversation between my mom and Leila about their losses gives me a whole new appreciation for the woman who raised me.

  “I still can’t believe she’s so accepting of all this.”

  “My whole family loves stuff like this. My grandmother taught them well, I guess. They work hard to maintain the kind of success they have in this town, but they also know how to have fun. Well rounded peeps, the Romano clan. I guess they’re not as bad as I sometimes let on.”

  Leila rises from my bed where she’s made herself cozy by kicking off her shoes. I can tell she’s not paying attention to our conversation anymore because she’s fixated on the guitar case in the corner of my room. “Is that your guitar?” she asks, pointing to it.

  “Yup. That’s my baby.” My fingers usually itch to play if it’s been a few days since I’ve picked it up, but with Leila here, in my room, my fingers are eager to strum a different instrument all together.

  “Oh, my God, Jude. Can you play for me? Please?”

  “No, no, no.” I shake my head and deflect her sudden need to rush over to that side of the room. “It’s been a long day and I have to shower and make up the couch. How about another night? I promise I’ll play for you before the wedding.” A lump forms in my throat at the thought of this whole outlandish situation. The wedding. A beautiful stranger. Our naked afternoon. Leila in my bedroom gazing at me with those persuasive eyes. Gulp!

  Leila is sauntering in my direction with a shit-eating grin and something about her sexy, bare feet padding across the floor with those long, tanned legs makes me wish my mother was out with her Mahjong club tonight. “I never mentioned this before, but I have a real weak spot for musicians.” The sly seductress accentuates weak spot and rubs her hand down her body with a soft moan.

  I grab her wrist just as she’s about to touch herself, and pull her close. “My mother is right next door and while I’m a grown man—” I guide her hand to my already stiff cock to show her just how grown I am. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “To play the guitar or to play with me?” She grabs my junk and leans forward to nip my lip.

  “Leila, you’re making this really hard.”

  “I know.” She giggles against my mouth, stroking me over my jeans. “Come on, we’re engaged, remember? I can be quiet if . . . you promise you’ll play something for me.”

  What am I going to do with this girl? Give her what she wants, that’s what.

  Before I can argue any further with my suddenly moral subconscious, I’m tearing her clothes off and she’s straddling me on my bed. She’s quick to rid me of my pants and boxers and in no time at all our bodies are naked, pressed against each other, writhing and panting.

  Guiding her as I move up higher on the bed, my hands roam her tight body, appreciating that we have an actual bed to accommodate our lovemaking this time. I lean over to my bedside table for a condom, never removing my lips from hers. Once I’m fully locked and loaded, Leila rises, her beautiful breasts on show and ready for the taking. I inch up with my elbow as leverage to take one into my mouth, but she pushes me back down onto the mattress and lowers herself over my length with a sultry hiss that drives me wild.

  “Holy shit!” I growl, as quietly as possible.

  “Feels so good,” she moans, moving up and down, her tightness clenching me, on the verge of draining me already.

  I wrap my hands around her tiny waist and guide her as she picks up an unrelenting pace. With her head back and her hands in her hair she looks absolutely gorgeous. What makes her even more breathtaking is the way she’s shamelessly riding me as if we’re long time lovers. I can’t take my eyes off her. I never want to take my eyes off her. She must sense the intensity of my stare because her heated gaze finds mine, latching on magnetically.

  I buck my hips and thrust into her, hard and unapologetic. She welcomes the delicious depth with a satisfied smile and a soft, ball-tightening moan. Together, we rock into each other, building up a sweat and never losing eye contact until we both fall apart and let the wave of release take us along with it.

  Leila collapses on my chest. Our heavy panting permeates the room, our galloping hearts filling our ears. I pet her hair and breathe her in, loving every second of this unexpected but magical day. It’s then that she must read my mind because she turns her head so her lips brush against my ear and she whispers, “Best. Day. Ever.�
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  13

  Leila

  The night after I crashed at Jude’s place, the same day after my whole world was turned upside down, I woke to a text from Melissa. It started off along the lines of “You bitch! How could you?” but I chose to ignore the long-winded rant and simply replied, “I hope you can make it!”

  The old Leila would have backtracked, explained herself, felt guilty. But not the new Leila. No, she’s refreshed, recharged, and on a mission to take no bull. I remember feeling lighter that morning, as if I’d unknowingly been carrying a burden on my shoulders that was finally removed. I’d be foolish to think this transformation was self-imposed—Jude was the reason for my newfound moxie—but it felt good nonetheless. Like I finally had the right lease on life.

  Fast forward three days and now I’m enjoying a charming lunch with Jude at a quaint little place in the heart of Geneva.

  Everything about this town reminds me of one of those Thomas Kincaid winter villages. There is not one storefront without a green and red wreath adorning its door. Streetlamps are decorated with lighted garlands of pine and holly, and the window displays boast seasonal sales and trinkets sure to be treasured by their recipient on Christmas morning.

  Sitting here at the tavern, I realized it’s the first time I’ve relaxed since Saturday. Every day since has been filled with meeting family members or preparing for the wedding, and I even managed to fit in some Christmas shopping. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying every second of it. Never mind that this is all a farce, or that my elaborate coach will eventually turn into a rotted, old pumpkin. I’m living in the moment and not thinking about the aftermath. Silly? Maybe. But I have a new lease on life, remember?

  “This is so good,” I manage to say with a mouthful of one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.

  “Told you.” He sips his vanilla milkshake from a straw with a boyish grin.

  I wipe the ketchup that’s dripped onto my chin with a napkin and set the massive burger back down on the plate. “Probably shouldn’t be chowing down this way being as I still have to fit into my dress in a few days.” I take a sip of iced tea to wash down the tasty meal and catch Jude ogling me. Again.

  “What? You’re awfully happy today.” Not that he hasn’t been ever since I met him—all of four days ago—but he’s even more chipper than usual.

  “Nothing. Just . . . this is all so surreal, don’t you think?”

  I take another sip of my drink and nod my head, enjoying the jolly sound of Dean Martin’s version of A Marshmallow World playing overhead. “Uh, yeah. You can say that again. Here I am, four days from marrying a guy I just met and everything is magically falling into place right before my eyes. Dress, check. Flowers, check. Guest list, check. Mama Rosa’s a machine! I’m impressed.”

  Jude chuckles but his eyes remain fixated on my lips, curling his into a devious smirk.

  “You’re doing it again,” I say, hiding my face in embarrassment.

  “You know I can’t help it. You’re beautiful. Let me get my fill before you leave me jilted. It’s only right.”

  I blow him a kiss, which satisfies him for the time being, and gives me time to process the wave of emotions that have somehow crept into my heart while I wasn’t looking.

  Over the course of the last few days, Jude and I have spent a lot of time together. With a few breaks for work and traveling back to Rochester to get my own car and some stuff from home. When Jude said it’s been surreal, it was an understatement. I can only compare this whole crazy situation to playing house. And the only bad thing about it is that I like it. A lot. The more time I spend in Seneca with Jude and his family, the more I like everything they have to offer. Not that I was unhappy at home, but . . . I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. I only know I’ve never felt this alive, and every second I spend with Jude has me envisioning a fantasy future that is simply too far-fetched and out of reach. I mean, come on. Let’s get real. I can’t possibly have any real feelings for him. I just met him! We hardly know each other. Only, I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I feel like he knows me better than any guy I’ve ever been in a relationship with. He gets me. I get him. We have a great time together. And yet, it’ll all come to an end soon. Maybe it doesn’t have to. I can’t imagine letting something this good slip away.

  “Now you’re the one with stars in your eyes. Care to share with the class?” Jude interrupts my musing, clasping his hand over mine.

  I could easily share my concerns, tell him how I feel. But the old, wary, by-the-book Leila keeps turning up and reminding the new, carefree, spontaneous Leila that this isn’t the natural order of things. Love blossoms over time. It doesn’t happen overnight. If I confess everything I’m feeling, he’ll think I’m crazy. I’d rather enjoy the fun while it lasts and stick to the plan. No need to end this ordeal with a broken heart if it can be avoided.

  I slip my hand out from under his and take another bite of the burger. “Just thinking about how good this burger is. I can’t bear to see it go to waste. Screw the calories!”

  Jude simply winks before mindlessly sipping his milkshake and returning his gaze to the passersby on the street outside.

  When Blue Christmas starts to play, I wonder if it’s some sort of omen of what’s to come.

  14

  Jude

  Don’t ask me how it’s possible, but I’m falling for this girl. Four days. I’ve known this chick for four days and every part of me wishes the fake wedding we’ve planned for this weekend wasn’t fake at all.

  I must be insane to think this way. What guy goes all hearts and flowers over someone he just met? No stable guy I know. Guess you may as well throw me in a straightjacket then, because I’ve never felt this way about a girl in my entire life. She’s everything I’ve been searching for even though I wasn’t aware I was searching at all. I thought I’d been in love once or twice, but I realize now, after spending time with Leila, that it was fleeting. I’m not sure how it’s happened, but it has. The heart knows what the heart wants and my heart is screaming Leila at the top of its lungs.

  Engrossed in all things Leila, I watch on from across the table as she licks her lips, enjoying her burger. My focus lands on her tongue and I reflect on how acquainted it’s become with my body over the last few days. A discerning grin lifts the corners of my mouth and I swallow hard at the memory of us together—multiple times, multiple ways. Looks certainly are deceiving because this wholesome girl-next-door is fucking wild in the sack. The sexual chemistry alone is enough to prove that what Leila and I have could really be something, but thinking with my dick does no justice to our connection. It’s beyond lust, it’s palpable. Dare I say that it runs deeper than any relationship I’ve had in the past and again . . . we’re talking four days, people! I’m finding it hard to rationalize feeling this way in such a short amount of time. And that’s the one thing stopping me from laying it all out there and telling Leila how I really feel.

  On the edge of confessing, my bemused thoughts are disrupted by a moan. “Oh, my God, I’m so full. You’ll have to carry me out of here.”

  “I can arrange that,” I admit with a wink.

  She arches a brow and leans closer, reaching across the table for my hands and then perusing the restaurant to see if anyone’s looking in our direction. “And what would everyone think of that, huh?”

  My eyes scan the place, too, noticing we’ve caught the attention of a few nosy-bodies. This town is full of them and by now, thanks to Mama Rosa and my mother, they’re all privy to the news about me and Leila. I play along with her flirtatious mood, wishing we were indeed that soon-to-be married couple, giddy off the high of an impending wedding. “They’d think we’re two kids who are crazy in love with each other,” I say, savoring that vision. Would it be so terrible to make them think that? Would it be a travesty to entertain the possibility?

  I think not, I decide. In fact, doing so would give our audience exactl
y what they want. So without further thought, I toss some money on the table, race around to Leila’s side of the booth, and tug her out by the hands. With an enthusiastic smile, she follows my lead and then squeals when I lift her up and toss her over my shoulder. “Seems my bride needs some assistance,” I address the onlookers.

  “Put me down, you nut!” She pounds on my back with her tiny fists but the giggles escaping her are mightier than her efforts.

  “Not until I get you home, baby,” I growl, enjoying the scene I’ve caused. “Ciao, everyone!” I wave with my free hand as I carry her out the door. A few customers laugh along with our show of affection and an older couple shakes their heads. The whole time, I’m hoping Leila is enjoying this as much as I am.

  15

  Leila

  I’m enjoying this way too much. Jude has a way of making me feel like a teenager with zero inhibitions all over again.

  When we’re finally outside, steps away from his car, I kick my feet and wiggle out from beneath his grip. “You can put me down now, you oaf.”

  “And risk letting you get away?”

  “And where would I go? You’re the one who drove us here, remember?”

  “Is that the only reason you stay?”

  Even over his shoulder, without seeing the look on his face, I can tell the mood has shifted to more serious. It’s obvious we’ve both been battling with reality versus fantasy during our fling and I’d hate to downplay how fond I’ve become of our time together, of him. “No, of course not. I’m not going anywhere, Jude.”