Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) (10 page)

“Carmella? You still there?”

Shaking my head, I sit up straight. “Yeah. But I’d better get going, or the best man might swoop in on the conversation.” Josh is already inching into my peripheral vision. “Could you do me a favor when you get back from Tybee?”

“Maybe. Are you gonna give up that chocolate cream pie recipe?”

“No.” I chuckle. “Could you just stop over to my apartment and make sure Moxley hasn’t gained thirty pounds? MaMére likes to spoil him.”

Tess bursts into a peal of laughter. “Sure thing, Yankee-girl.”

The instant I hang up and stand, Josh appears at my side and loops his arm around my shoulders.

“All the pastry problems solved?” he asks.

“Everything’s fine.” Clearly, no one’s ever taught him about personal space. I shrug him off and check the time. “We’d better head back. Sadie’s got the seamstress coming for the fittings this afternoon.”

“We need to grab lunch first. All that history has made me hungry.”

Undeterred by my attempt to restrict physical contact, he takes my hand and leads me down the street. With an internal groan, I allow him to all but drag me toward a little restaurant a couple blocks away. I plan to insist on something quick, maybe a bottle of water and a piece of fruit, but my appetite is in cahoots with Josh. The scents wafting from the open doors elicit a loud rumble from my stomach. He grins when he hears it.

We settle at a table near a back corner of the small space, and Josh orders two bottles of San Pellegrino and a sampler platter of seafood.

“Eat here often?” I ask as the waitress walks away.

“A time or ten.” Folding his arms on the table, he leans forward. “No allergies, I hope.”

I shake my head, turning the bottles in the condiment rack to study their labels. “I wouldn’t have gotten far living in Savannah with a seafood allergy.”

“You don’t have an accent like Sadie does. You aren’t from Georgia originally?”

“New York. And no, I don’t mean Manhattan.” His mouth hangs open from the question I’ve preemptively answered. “You and Nelson don’t have the same accents either.”

“Much to my parents’ chagrin, I sounded like a native Crucian until I started school. Guess I was imitating some of the staff.” Josh props his chin on one hand. “Mum and Dad sent both of us to prep school in Kingshill, where they tried to drill proper speech into me. Nelson went to Oxford and worked for a while in London. Mum’s family’s still there.”

“And you didn’t? Go to Oxford, I mean.”

“Oxford wouldn’t have me,” he replies with a mischievous wink. “I went to the States for college. University of Southern California. So while Nelson cultivated that nice clean accent, I got a mix of Crucian, Mum and Dad’s British, and a touch of So-Cal I picked up in Los Angeles.”

The waitress returns with our San Pellegrinos, and I take a sip of the cool sparkling water while I formulate my next question. This is family history, and I have a chance to get the scoop on Nelson and Sadie’s whirlwind romance.

“So your mom’s from London. What about your dad? He sounded like he’s from England, too.”

Josh shakes his head. “His family tree has roots here that go all the way back to the Dutch colonials. But he spent a lot of years in London. That’s where he and Mum met. They moved back here to take over the business when my granddad retired. I think Nelson was two or three at the time. I came along several years later, a bit of a surprise.”

“Of course you were.”

At this point, the waitress reappears and slides a huge platter onto the table, boasting a steaming hot assortment of seafood. My mouth waters at the sight of crab legs, peel-and-eat shrimp, and some sort of panko-breaded fish strips.

Josh puts one of the strips onto a small appetizer plate and hands it to me. “Cracked conch. I’ll eat the rest if you don’t like it.”

“Like from a conch shell?”

He nods, further piquing my curiosity. I’ve heard conch is sort of a Caribbean specialty, so I take the plunge and give it a try. The meat itself doesn’t have much flavor, but it’s tender, and the thin breading has great seasoning. Whoever cooked these up knows their stuff.

We eat in silence for a minute or two, by which time I have an idea where to take the conversation. “So, Nelson’s quite a bit older than you, I take it.”

“By about eight years. He’ll be thirty-nine next month.”

I pop a bite of crab meat into my mouth. It’s so sweet, I don’t even need to dip it in butter. “Sadie mentioned he has kids.”

He nods. “Two girls, cute as buttons. Katrina and Rose, ages seven and twelve.”

“What do they think of this whole thing? Sadie marrying their dad, I mean.”

“I think they’re okay with it.” Josh leans back, taking a swig from his bottle of San Pellegrino. “She doesn’t expect to replace their mother, and I think that helps.”

“And their mother is . . .” I leave the question dangling. Part of me hopes he’ll reveal some dirty laundry about Nelson’s romantic past, like an affair and a messy divorce. Something that might indicate how deep Sadie might be in trouble here.

Josh grows quiet and still, sets his bottle down, and heaves a sigh. “She died about four years ago. Car accident.”

Carmella, you idiot
.

If Josh senses my embarrassment, he pretends not to. “Katrina doesn’t remember her well, but Rose does. It’s been a little harder for her to adjust. Fortunately, Sadie’s so bubbly and friendly, neither of them feels threatened. Helps that she’s involving them in the wedding.”

His description of Sadie’s personality is accurate, at least.

I clear my throat. “And what about you?”

“As in, what do I think of Sadie and Nelson?” He smirks. “Does it matter what I think?”

I drain my bottle. “Well, your brother seems pretty level-headed. You know him better than I do, of course, but asking someone to marry you less than a month after meeting her seems a little . . . more than spontaneous.”

“Well, Nelson’s also the sort who goes after what he wants. For whatever reason, he and Sadie clicked. And that’s the end of the story, as far as the rest of us are concerned.” I start to argue, but he shrugs and holds up one hand. “My brother says he’s happy. And all I know is that, other than his girls, nothing’s made him happy in a really long time.”

It’s hard to view Josh as an annoyance when he explains his take on the situation. Plus, now I feel bad for doubting Nelson’s intentions. Maybe my intuition upon meeting him was right. Maybe he really is in love with Sadie. Now my only concern is Sadie’s mindset. Rebound or not, she was with Ryan for six years.

My cell phone gives a short ring, startling me. “Text message, sorry.” I fumble in my purse. “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head, polishing off the last shrimp. I expect it to be Sadie, asking where we are, or maybe even Tess. I do not expect to see Ryan’s face on the caller ID.

Surprised but pleased, I open the message.
Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Everything’s good?

“I take it that’s not your boss.”

I glance up at Josh, eyes wide. “What makes you say that?”

His grin spreads. “Most people don’t blush when their bosses text them.”

Gritting my teeth, I fire a short reply back to Ryan:
Two thumbs up so far
. Then I close out the screen and slip my phone back into my purse.

Josh stares at me, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he drums his fingers on the table.

“It’s a sunburn,” I say in defense.

I absolutely
am not
blushing.

“Sure it is.” He stands and pulls his wallet out. “I’ll go pay the check, and then we’ll head back to the resort.”

Jumping to my feet, I reach back into my purse. “Hold on, you don’t have to pay.”

“I asked you to lunch. Besides, you paid admission to the historic park.”

Now I
am
blushing. “But that was only six dollars. And you hated every minute of it.”

He laughs, a low sound that makes me want to laugh, too. “I never said I hated it. What’s not to like, strolling around on a beautiful morning with the world’s cutest baking historian?”

Jamming on my hat, I scowl and stomp to the door as he heads to the register to pay.

Chapter 11

Gifts That Should Not Be

When we return to the resort, Sadie whirls across the lobby and grabs my hand. Her smile is radiant, and she almost hops up and down as she steers me toward the elevator. “The seamstress just got here. I can’t wait to see your face when you try on your dress.”

Josh gives me a mock salute in the instant before the elevator doors slide shut, and Sadie leans against the wall with a knowing grin.

“So, how was your morning? Did you and Josh have fun?”

I shrug, trying to be noncommittal. “It was okay. He’s not as annoying as I thought he’d be.” Or as annoying as I thought last night.

“I knew you’d get along great.”

“We have absolutely nothing in common.” She shakes her head, and I mimic her. “You’ve been trying to discern my type for years. When are you gonna give up?”

She crosses her arms. “Well, why don’t you just tell me what your type is?”

Her question gives me pause. I can’t exactly describe what kind of guy would be my type. I must have one. I’ve dated enough to know what I don’t like.

Ryan’s face pops unbidden into my mind. The memory of his text from earlier must still be lingering. I shake my head, dismissing him. “Whatever. All I know is Josh is definitely not my type.”

She bumps against my arm, grinning. “Could be fun anyway. You’re only here for a week.”

“Sadie.”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

My jaw drops. “What? I―You don’t―” I sputter for a second or two. “That is completely irrelevant.”

“That long, huh?” She winks, and before I can respond, the elevator stops and the door opens. “The girls are trying their dresses on right now. I’d love you to meet them.”

Nelson’s daughters, two brown-eyed, blond-haired fairies of girls, spin across the center of the honeymoon suite’s living room when we enter, giggling as their dresses swirl around them. Sadie halts in the doorway to watch, a pleased smile on her face. The expression surprises me, given her sudden insistence that she doesn’t really like kids. But while I still haven’t figured out if she truly loves Nelson, it’s clear his daughters have won her heart.

The seven-year-old, Katrina, if I remember correctly what Josh told me, jumps up and down when she sees us. “Sadie! It’s my favorite color!” She pinches her lavender chiffon skirt between her fingers and sketches a sweet curtsey.

Behind her, Rose clasps her hands at her waist, her chin lowered as she shyly inches forward. This must be difficult for the twelve-year-old, despite Josh’s assertion that she’s okay with her father’s remarriage. Her dress, cut in the same girlish A-line pattern as Katrina’s, is a soft foam green color.

“Thank you, Sadie,” she says.

Sadie’s smile widens as she puts one hand on my shoulder. “Girls, this is Carmella Sannarelli. She’s the maid of honor.”

Katrina jumps up and down again, clapping her hands. “I saw your dress!” she exclaims, reaching out to clasp my wrists. “It’s so pretty!”

At least one of Nelson’s daughters is beyond excited about the wedding. I laugh, letting her spin me in a circle.

Sadie detaches her and guides her toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t you two get changed so those dresses don’t get wrinkled before Saturday? Then I think your daddy has a surprise for you down by the pool.”

Katrina skips into the bedroom, where the seamstress’s assistant is waiting.

Rose lingers, touching Sadie’s arm. “Thank you, really,” she murmurs, a blush rising in her tanned cheeks.

Sadie runs her fingers through Rose’s hair. “You’re more than welcome, honey. Now go on with your sister, so Carmella and I can talk about the boring stuff.”

After the girls leave the honeymoon suite, Sadie ushers me into the bedroom. The first thing I notice is the large plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the desk, and my jaw drops when Sadie selects one and takes a huge bite.

“Sadie Miller! What about pre-event chocolate detox?”

“It’s not chocolate,” she says, her words muddled. “It’s fruit.”

“Semantics.” I point to the plate. “I haven’t eaten a single piece of chocolate since you called to tell me you were getting married. Give me one.”

Swallowing, Sadie almost snorts, but she chooses a huge strawberry and hands it over, along with a napkin to wipe the inevitable drips of juice from my chin. Giggling like Katrina, we each eat two more strawberries before the seamstress clears her throat, demanding our attention. After washing my hands and face of strawberry juice and chocolate smears, I join Sadie near the clothing rack.

“There shouldn’t be too much to alter,” she says, watching the seamstress unzip a white garment bag. “I think I guessed your size pretty well.”

“It hasn’t changed since college.” My eyes widen at the sight of fluttering turquoise chiffon. “Good thing I brought my silver sandals.”

I reach one hand out to the dress, but before I can touch it, the seamstress’s assistant spins me around.

“Down to your unmentionables,” she commands.

My jaw slacks open and my face turns hot.

Sadie chuckles and pushes the assistant away. “Chill out, Carmella. Just pretend you’re in a locker room.”

Determined not to look like a total prude in front of the seamstress, but also determined not to spend too much time exposed in front of her, I quickly change into my dress. Sadie helps me with the small hidden zipper under my left arm. I want to check my reflection in the cheval mirror, but before I can turn, the seamstress starts prodding, tugging, and poking.

“Thread,” she says to her assistant. “Arms out to the side, Miss Sannarelli.”

My glance shoots to Sadie as I lift my arms parallel to the floor. “She’s gonna make the alterations right now?”

Sadie shrugs, nibbling another strawberry. “Might as well. You’re here, she’s here, the thread’s here. It’ll save her time later this week.”

A needle pokes my side, drawing a yelp.

The seamstress glares. “Do. Not. Move.”

It feels like hours go by before I’m allowed to lower my aching arms, but according to the little bedside clock, it’s only been about fifteen minutes. Wriggling to test the give of the fabric, I find it very comfortable. I’m dying to look in the mirror.

Sadie steps behind me and pulls my hair back, clipping it in place. “Okay,” she says, pulling me backward by the shoulders and spinning me toward the mirror. “Now you can look.”

Despite diligent application of sunblock, I’ve developed a tan over the past three days. A little extra color touches my cheeks, almost a sunburn, but it means I won’t have to use much makeup on Saturday. The turquoise of the dress pops against my tanned skin, and the cut of the silhouette is beyond flattering. The backless underdress is a light satin, fitted and lined over the bust, and overlaid with chiffon to create a dreamy, ethereal flutter every time I move. Gathered chiffon forms a Queen Anne neckline, then drapes elegantly down my back. Bands of fabric at the waist, studded with dark blue rhinestones, cinch the dress into an hourglass shape, and soft layers of chiffon drop to a handkerchief hem around my knees. The entire dress is spun with patterns in silver thread.

“Oh, wow.” My whisper seems to express too little appreciation, but the seamstress smiles behind me and nods.

Sadie hooks her arms around me from behind and rests her chin on my shoulder. “My dress is a similar style, but longer and white, of course. I ordered white hibiscus for your hair.”

“Sadie, you have to let me pay you for this dress.”

She blows a raspberry at me. “No. I already told you we’ve got it.”

I spin around. “You have to let me reimburse you for something.”

Sadie sticks her fingers in her ears. “I know you’re saying something ridiculous, but since I can’t hear you, I can ignore it.” Noticing my worried, petulant expression, she drops her hands. “Seriously, honey. You don’t need to pay for anything. I told you that up front. Nelson’s got everything covered. You being here is all the payment I need.”

The seamstress tugs me away from the mirror. “Out of the dress, if you please, Miss Sannarelli. You’ll have it back on Friday morning after I secure the stitching and give it a good steam press.”

The next couple days are a whirlwind of activity as Sadie involves me in every remaining aspect of wedding preparations. Between the final cake tasting—along with a fantastic tour of the resort’s kitchen, which ends with an hour long phone call between Tess and the head pastry chef—shopping excursions, and meals with every member of the wedding party, I have no time to breathe. On Wednesday afternoon, when I finally settle under a wide umbrella at Sadie’s bridal shower, it feels like I haven’t sat down since I arrived in St. Croix.

“Can I sit with you?”

I look up, shading my eyes, as Rose sidles up to me. She’s pretty in pink this afternoon, and the blush on her cheeks reveals how nervous and shy she must feel. She went on this morning’s shoe expedition, and we clicked.

Patting the chair beside me, I smile. “Always room for one more.”

Rose takes a seat. “I’m glad you and Sadie let me come along today.”

“We’re glad you asked.”

“Uncle Josh said I’d get along well with you.”

At her comment, my glance shifts around the terrace and pool deck. Josh is nowhere in sight, thankfully. I haven’t really seen him, other than at dinner, since our trip into Christiansted. The thought of him talking me up to his niece makes me a little nervous.

I clear my throat and turn to Rose. “Well, I think you and I have a lot in common. Where’s your sister?”

“Daddy took Katrina out to lunch, since she’s too little for the bridal shower. She’d be bored listening to everyone talking.” She lifts one hand to her lips, nibbling her thumbnail for a second. “She wants to see Sadie’s presents, but she can wait till later.”

I stifle a slight laugh. Rose will probably be bored, too, but she’s a little old to beg off completely. Leaning toward her, I ask about school and friends, the things a twelve-year-old would want to talk about. Sadie’s grateful glance catches mine across the terrace. Again, the lack of a glass in her hand catches my attention. Especially since just about every other woman is holding something to drink.

Suddenly, Sadie breaks into a determined stride, heading for the end of the terrace.

Rose shifts in her seat. “Who’s that?” she whispers, pointing subtly to the woman talking with Sadie in low tones.

My level of surprise ratchets up a little more. “That’s Kate Miller. Sadie’s sister.”

“Do I have to call her aunt?”

“I don’t think so. Not unless you decide you want to.” A frown pinches between my eyebrows as Sadie says something, accompanied by an emphatic gesture, to her sister.

Kate Miller hasn’t changed very much, even though it’s been six years since I last saw her. Though not as slender as Sadie, she has the same blond hair and blue eyes. But her face is harder, like she’s had more disappointments in life. I remember what Ryan told me, that Kate exchanged some choice words with Sadie at their family reunion. The expected tension is confirmed when Sadie actually wrings her hands.

Their mom bustles across the terrace, intercepting the verbal sling visibly brewing on the tip of Kate’s tongue. Sadie’s shoulders sag in relief as she escapes.

I lean toward Rose. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She nods, and I try not to launch from my seat. I make it look natural as I stroll into Sadie’s path and hook my arm through her elbow.

“You okay, Sadie-lady?”

“Yeah.” Her jaw is stiff, and her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath.

“I thought you said Kate wasn’t coming.”

“Mom made me send an invitation, just to keep up appearances. I didn’t think she’d actually come.” She peeks over her shoulder and relaxes a little more. “It’s fine. She doesn’t want to be in the wedding or anything. And I’ll be too busy to notice her glaring at me the whole time.”

We pause near the gift table. There are more cards in the basket than packages on the table, but her registry wasn’t extensive. She and Nelson probably have most of what they need or want already.

I finger the frilly ribbon on a flat, silver-wrapped package. “So what happened that made you not want her here in the first place?”

“She said some stuff at the family reunion. About Ryan and me, and about me taking Mom’s side in the divorce.” Her voice is almost inaudible. “I didn’t want to take sides, and really I never did. She just assumed. I wanted my dad to be the one to give me away. But after some of what Kate said, I felt like I couldn’t ask him.”

I take a small step back and rub her arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She gives me a shaky smile. “But just so you know, you might want to steer clear.”

“Of Kate? Why?”

She meets my confused gaze and sighs. “She’s just a big wrecking ball these days.”

Before I can ask for clarification, she tugs me toward the two chairs set up near the gift table, then beckons everyone around.

“It’s time to open gifts!”

The assorted women on the terrace gather their chairs close. Rose snuggles up on a wicker loveseat with her grandmother, which makes me feel better about leaving her to tend to Sadie. Most of the faces are unfamiliar, wives of Nelson’s business associates who are attending the wedding. I presume they’ll also be frequent guests of the Mattinglys following the wedding. Good thing Sadie likes to entertain and knows how.

But despite their easy laughter and glittering smiles, these women aren’t Sadie’s friends. I wonder if even her mother knows her all that well.

Come to think of it, I can’t really attest to being an expert on Sadie Miller anymore either. Up until about a month ago, I could have told you anything about her and been completely right. She’s always been flighty and airheaded. But never the sort you’d expect to ditch someone all but at the altar and elope with someone else.

As if sensing my thoughts, Kate Miller’s narrow-eyed glare pins me for a moment. I shiver, suddenly cold in the tropical heat. I’m not sure why she would hold any animosity toward me. Maybe she’s just pissed about the whole situation, but if that’s the case, she shouldn’t have come.