First, he’d cooked with a full staff. Then he’d had to bring Laz and Gino, two of the busboys, to the wedding to assist with setup and teardown. They drove to the vineyard in almost complete silence, every mile stretching Rafe’s nerves.
Seeing the sign for 88 Vineyards, he turned down the winding lane. The top of a white tent shimmered in the winter sun. Thirty yards away, white folding chairs created two wide rows of seating for guests. He could see the bride and groom standing in front of the clergyman, holding hands, probably saying their vows.
He pulled the SUV beside the tent. “It looks like we’ll need to move quickly to get everything set up for them to eat.”
Dani opened her door of the SUV. “Not if there are pictures. I’ve known brides who’ve taken hours of pictures.”
“Bah. Nonsense.”
Ignoring him, she climbed out of the SUV.
Rafe opened his door and recessional music swelled around him. Still Dani said nothing. Her cold shoulder stung more than he wanted to admit.
A quick glance at the wedding ceremony netted him the sight of the bride and groom coming down the aisle. The sun cast them in a golden glow, but their smiles were even more radiant. He watched as the groom brought the bride’s hand to his lips. Saw the worship in his eyes, the happiness, and immediately Rafe thought of Daniella. About the times he’d kissed her hand. Walked her to her car. Waited with bated breath for her arrival every morning.
He reached into his SUV to retrieve a tray of his signature ravioli. Handing it to Laz, he sneaked a peek at Daniella as she made her way to the parents of the bride, who’d walked out behind the happy couple. They smiled at her, the bride’s mom talking a million words a second as she pointed inside the tent. Daniella set her hand on the mom’s forearm and suddenly the nervous woman calmed.
He watched in heart-stealing silence. A lifetime of rejection had taught her to be kind. And one failed romance had made him mean. Bitter.
As he pulled out the second ravioli tray, Dani walked over.
“Apparently the ceremony was lovely.”
“Peachy.”
“Come on. I know you’re mad at me for arranging this. But at the time, I didn’t know any better and in a few hours all of this will be over.”
He sucked in a breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry with myself—” Because I finally understand I’m not worried about you leaving me, or even losing my dreams. I’m disappointed in myself “—for yelling at you yesterday.”
“Oh.” She smiled slowly. “Thanks.”
The warm feeling he always got when she smiled invaded every inch of him. “You’re welcome.”
Not waiting for him to say anything else, she headed inside the white tent where the dinner and reception would be held. He followed her only to discover she was busy setting up the table for the food. He and Laz worked their magic on the warmers he’d brought to keep everything the perfect temperature. Daniella and Gino brought in the remaining food.
And nothing happened.
People milled around the tables in the tent, chatting, celebrating the marriage. Wine flowed from fancy bottles. The mother of the bride socialized. The parents of the groom walked from table to table. A breeze billowed around the tent as everyone talked and laughed.
He stepped outside, nervous now. He’d never considered himself wrong, except that he’d believed giving up apprenticeships for Kamila had made him weak. But setback after setback had made Dani strong. It was humbling to realize his master-chef act wasn’t a sign of strength, but selfishness. Even more humbling to realize he didn’t know what to do with the realization.
Wishing he still smoked, he ambled around the grounds, gazing at the blue sky, and then he turned to walk down a cobblestone path, only to find himself three feet away from the love-struck bride and groom.
He almost groaned, until he noticed the groom lift the bride’s chin and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
His eyebrows rose. They hadn’t even been married twenty minutes and there was trouble in paradise already?
She quietly said, “Everything is not going to be okay. My parents are getting a divorce.”
Rafe thought of the woman in pink, standing with the guy in the tux as they’d chatted with Dani at the end of the ceremony, and he almost couldn’t believe it.
The groom shook his head. “And they’re both on their best behavior. Everything’s fine.”
“For now. What will I do when we get home from our honeymoon? I’ll have to choose between the two of them for Christmas and Easter.” She gasped. “I’ll have to get all my stuff out of their house before they sell it.” She sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I have no home.”
Rafe’s chest tightened. He heard every emotion Dani must feel in the bride’s voice. No home. No place to call her own.
A thousand emotions buffeted him, but for the first time since he’d met Dani he suddenly felt what she felt. The emptiness of belonging to no one. The longing for a place to call her own. And he realized the insult he’d leveled when he’d told her he wanted to sleep with her, but not keep her.
“I’ll be your home.” The groom pulled his bride away from the tree. “It’s us now. We’ll make your home.”
We’ll make your home.
Rafe stepped back, away from the tree that hid him, the words vibrating through him. But the words themselves were nothing without the certainty behind them. The strength of conviction in the groom’s voice. The promise that wouldn’t be broken.
We’ll make your home.
“Let’s go inside. We have a wedding to celebrate.”
She smiled. “Yes. We do.”
Rafe discreetly followed them into the tent. He watched them walk to the main table as if nothing was wrong, as the dining room staff scrambled to fill serving bowls with his food and get it onto tables.
The toast of the best man was short. Rafe’s eyes strayed to Daniella. He desperately wanted to give her a home. A real one. A home like he’d grown up in with kids and a dog and noisy suppers.
This was what life had stolen from her and from him. When Kamila left, she hadn’t taken his dream. She’d bruised him so badly, he’d lost his faith in real love. He’d lost his dream of a house and kids. And when it all suddenly popped up in the form of a woman so beautiful that she stole his breath, he hadn’t seen it.
Dear God. He loved her. He loved her enough to give up everything he wanted, even Mancini’s, to make her dreams come true. But he wouldn’t have to give up anything. His dream was her dream. And her dream was now his dream.
Their meal eaten, the bride and groom rose from the table. The seating area was quickly dismantled by vineyard staff, who left a circle of chairs around the tent and a clear floor on which to dance.
The
