“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.