A Love Most Fatal (Morelli Family #1)

7. Nate

7

NATE

I try to keep my after-hours time as carefree as possible, particularly Friday nights when the most adventurous thing I’ll plan is the rare occasion I can convince Jenna to go to trivia night with me. Now though, I am as unchill as I’ve ever been and am most definitely freaking the hell out. I can’t stop checking my hair, even though it looks the same as it did the last time I looked, and we’re going on ten minutes that I’ve paced around my apartment waiting for Vanessa.

Vanessa is hot, like stupid hot. She is hotter than me, I am aware. I would probably have to be an Avenger, or a fucking vampire to be as hot as she is. And despite trying to bribe me like some sort of criminal or nefarious millionaire, she apologized and has been friendly ever since. Charming, even.

Hot, and charming. Deadly combination.

We’ve texted three times in the last couple days, and I feel like I’m seventeen again. The first time my phone pinged with a message from her I called Jenna back-to-back as many times as it took until she grumpily picked up. She had no constructive advice for me, all her message ideas either too flirty or too stiff.

The text exchanges were brief. I gave her my address, told her she could wear whatever she wanted, but I for one would be in my best. I over-thought this one to death before clarifying that I was joking and would not be wearing my very best, just my almost-best, and whatever she wanted to wear would be perfect. But probably not white.

She’d sent back a “Haha” and I overanalyzed it for an hour.

Ranger lets out a huff on the couch, tired of my anxious steps, and I walk over to pat him on the head. He’s an old dog but a good dog, maybe the best dog. A terrier mix, the runt of his litter that I have to bathe way too frequently now, but he is a good dog.

He hates the pacing, which is fair. I suppose I would too if he was the one pacing.

I check my hair one more time and crunch down on three orange tic-tacs.

I’m in the process of smelling my armpits one last time when my buzzer goes off indicating that she’s downstairs. Or at least I hope it’s her because I can only look in the mirror and fuss so long before I start making things worse.

“Who is it?” I ask into the intercom.

“Ness,” she says, then corrects herself, “Vanessa.”

“I’ll come right down.”

“Actually, can I come up and use your bathroom?”

I freeze and try to recall the last time I cleaned the bathroom and catalog every embarrassing thing that could exist there.

“Sure,” I say and buzz her in.

The elevator never works, so she’s got four flights of stairs to climb, which gives me at least ninety seconds to speed clean my entire house. I start on the bathroom, shoving everything on my counter into the drawer. This makes it look too clean, suspiciously clean, so I grab the hand lotion and deodorant and place them back. It can only be a good thing that she know I am moisturized and smell good.

I’m thankful that I’m not a very messy person, but she will have to walk through my bedroom to get to the bathroom, so I pull straight my comforter and kick my slippers under the bed.

I am also debating whether or not the slip of her nickname means that I can call her that but decide that best practice would be not. It’s then that I hear the knock at my door.

I give Ranger one more look before opening the door and good lord, she looks gorgeous. Hot hot, Vanessa is wearing a short, black dress. Her lips are painted deep red, and her long hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, no flyaways.

“Vanessa,” I say finally, and she stands a bit taller.

“Hello,” she says, and steps past me into my apartment. We look at each other for a moment too long and Ranger barks at her feet, startling the both of us.

“Christ,” she whispers, looking down at the dog. I kneel down to scratch behind his ears before I pick him up. “What is that?”

“This is Ranger,” I say. “He’s really sweet, just wanted to introduce himself.”

Vanessa looks unsure about the said sweetness of the dog, which I cannot blame her for. Ranger has not aged all that gracefully. I can admit, even, that he is a bit ugly, but I think he’s ugly in the way that makes him all the more endearing and precious. After another moment of the two assessing each other, she nods.

“Good to meet you, Ranger,” she says. I deposit him back on the ground and Ranger’s tail thumps before he meanders over to his bed, circling three times before settling.

I show the way to the bathroom and do some breathing exercises while I wait for her to come out. I lean on my kitchen counter aiming for casual when I hear the toilet flush, but that feels wrong, so I stand and prop one hand on my hip, which is somehow much worse. I end up crossing my arms over my chest as she comes out of the room and can only pray that I look normal.

“Shall we?” I ask.

“Definitely.”

We walk to the wedding because the venue is just a few blocks away, and even though I live in a just-okay part of town, the place is nice . It’s an old mechanic’s shop turned into a hip, industrial party space that rich people pay way too much to rent.

I did offer up and down to drive since Vanessa’s wearing such high heels, but she said no to each one of my offers because she likes walking and that I would be amazed at the things she can do in her heels. (This made my neck hot because I just kept thinking about things she potentially does in those high heels and my mind isn’t better than that of my fourteen-year-old students, it’s just better trained.)

I lied about not wearing my best because the suit I am wearing is, pitifully, my best. I feel entirely underdressed next to her, but if she feels the same, she doesn’t let on.

When we get to the venue, I am impressed with how nice it really is. But then again, my uncle Dave is never one to hold back costs on a party, and a wedding is about the biggest party you can have. My cousin Sasha’s wedding still shows up in bridal magazines, and that was three years ago; she posts about it every time, so I am very up to date on how often she’s been written about.

“Greeting line first?” Vanessa asks, eyeing the line of people waiting to hug and congratulate my cousin and his blushing bride.

“They already had the ceremony,” I explain. “Don’t take a shot every time you hear the words ‘intimate’ and ‘special’ because you might get alcohol poisoning.”

“Duly noted.”

It would have made my mom’s whole year if Rex asked me to be a groomsman in his wedding, but I didn’t make the cut. He didn’t even invite me to the ceremony , though he and I are close, in my estimation. The ceremony was just for a handful of their closest family to make it really special , a little note in the invitation told in fancy script.

Come celebrate with us afterward. Food, sweets, dancing, an open bar, and love in the air.

Gag.

“So, fill me in. What do I need to know? Who are the main players?” Vanessa says as we join the greeting line.

I point to the bride. “Phoebe. Very nice, makes delicious fruit salads, can’t remember what she does for work, though she told me it has something to do with content creation.”

“Pretty dress,” Vanessa notes.

“The groom is my cousin, Rex, full name Reginald. He works in stocks and more recently, crypto. He’s the oldest, and favorite, grandson. Every few months we get together for basketball or he invites me for drinks with the bros .”

“Do you like him?”

“I do, actually,” I admit. “He was the closest thing I had to a brother growing up, so he bugs the shit out of me sometimes, but he’s good. He’s. . .”

“Family?” she finishes.

“Family.” We are about three couples away from the front, and I now can see my uncle and aunt are receiving as well. Phoebe’s parents too, I presume, though I have never met them. “Next is Aunt Barb next to Uncle Dave. He’s my mom’s brother, and they are competitive in a very weird, adult way. Their other daughter Sasha is the one in the pink dress over there. Beware, she will be recording many videos on her phone, and if you’re too friendly, she’ll try to teach you a dance.”

“Speaking from experience?”

I give a grim nod and it lights up her face. Before she can ask more though, we’re up and Rex is pulling me into a hug, exclaiming how glad he is I could make it. My uncle tunes in, resulting in another round of hugging, my aunt even brings Vanessa in for one.

“You look familiar, have we met?” Rex asks Vanessa before we can say all our congratulations. Phoebe’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my god!” Phoebe’s hand darts to Vanessa’s forearm. “You’re Vanessa Morelli.”

Vanessa takes all these strangers touching her in stride, looking as pleasant as ever.

“I am,” Vanessa agrees. “Though, I’m sorry I’m not sure I know where we’ve met.”

“No,” Phoebe says. “I was the one in charge of getting quotes for last year’s 30 under 30 at The Post . We talked on the phone.”

I recall now that she isn’t a content creator, but a content curator. She has a journalism degree. Honest mistake.

“ Right . Phoebe?” Vanessa says.

“Yes!” I hope Phoebe never realizes that Vanessa maybe only knows her name because it was displayed on four different signs at the entrance. “Babe, she was like the biggest picture on the spread.”

“That’s right.” Rex nods. “Cool that you could come to our wedding with Nate-Man.”

“Yes. Nate-Man,” Vanessa holds my arm like we really are here on a date, and I feel like she’s touching me with a live wire. “Well, congratulations, you look very beautiful, Phoebe. And beautiful together.”

Phoebe beams, I mean she just glows under this small praise from Vanessa.

“We’ll leave you to the masses, but we’ll see you on that dance floor,” I say, and it has the intended effect of making Rex laugh and give one of his signature huge claps on the shoulder.

My aunt and uncle do look impressed as we walk away arm in arm. You’re welcome, Mom.

“You didn’t tell me you’re famous.”

“Hardly. Just a local thing. Shall we buffet?”

If she means to divert my attention, it works, because as with the rest of the wedding, no expense was spared on the food, and being so nervous has worked up an appetite.

After piling my plate with three kinds of salads (pasta, potato, green) and a literal steak, we find our way to an empty table. We take turns observing guests, guessing their jobs and hobbies until some of my other family members make their way to the table and we have to make small conversation about my job, where in the world I met such a catch as Vanessa, how my dad’s surgery went, onward and onward.

Exhausting work.

It’s a relief when it’s time for cake cutting, speeches, and then of course the actual eating of said cake which is a peach, rhubarb, fluffy masterpiece. Sitting next to Vanessa through it all reminds me of what it felt like to date as a teenager. My palms sweat and I keep wiping them on my slacks wondering what it would be like to hold her hand and praying that they stop sweating in the case of such a thing.

Hand holding would be far too forward, I decide, but decide that an arm around the back of her chair when the music starts playing is reasonable. I need to lean closer for her to hear me, after all. It’s casual. Very cool.

“So, what sort of stuff do you like to do? When you’re not at basketball games or strangers’ weddings.”

Vanessa’s face turns towards mine and I swear she looks down at my lips which makes my heart stutter in a way that almost concerns me.

“I like to run,” she says. “My sister and I do a lot of fitness classes together.”

“Artie’s mom?”

“Her, but my other sister, too. Willa is the oldest, I’m in the middle, and then there’s my little sister Mary who I live with. We all get together and work out every week.” She takes another bite of cake.

“Any brothers?”

“None,” she says. “You? Siblings?”

“Only child.”

“Sounds boring,” she says, then looks sorry she did. “I didn’t mean?—”

“No, it was in a way. Cousins were good growing up, at least, and my parents are awesome. They live in Connecticut.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Every month or so, and I spend most of the summer there, but they want me to move back. I think they want me back home just so they can set me up with unsuspecting local women.”

“They must miss you.”

“Maybe.”

I think about my parents, the cruises they go on, the way I introduced pickleball to them but they have far, far eclipsed me. My dad’s baked goods, my mom’s books all over the house, anything used as a bookmark. They want me to have kids so bad, I know. They were in their thirties when they had me and now that I’ve just entered my thirties they are antsy to see me start a family.

“What about you?” I ask. “What’s your family like?”

“Well, you’ve met Willa. She’s always been sort of the princess of us. Married Sean when she was like barely nineteen. Then there’s me and Mary. She and I live with our mom, and us kids took over my dad’s business when he died.”

“I’m so sorry. When did he die?”

“Just about four years ago.”

“How old were you? Young to take over a company, right?”

“Yeah.” She breathes a laugh. “I was 24. Fresh out of grad school and yes, I was definitely overwhelmed. But we made it work.”

“What is the company?”

“We do construction,” she says, and something clicks in my mind. The 30 under 30 list in The Post , Phoebe freaking out. “Wait, like Morelli Construction?”

She nods. “That’s the one.”

“You took over Morelli Construction when you were only 24 years old?”

“I did. Some of the key shareholders weren’t thrilled, but I think I’ve proven my worth by now. Mostly, hopefully.”

Morelli Construction’s name is practically everywhere. You can’t go a block without seeing their signs on the fences of huge projects around town.

“And it’s a family affair? All of you?”

“Willa went to law school to step in as chief legal officer, her husband does operations, and Mary. . . she’s in charge of the more special projects.” Vanessa lifts a shoulder, and in doing so, her ponytail falls to her back. I look for a moment too long at her collarbone and clear my throat.

“And you like that? Working together.”

Vanessa looks to the dance floor while she thinks. Rex and Phoebe twirl around together, her head on his chest, a serene look on Rex’s face.

“Sometimes it’s hard, but family is important,” Vanessa finally says. “It means something to have people you would do anything for and know that they’d do anything in return.”

I like this idea, the loyalty involved with loving someone so much that any ask isn’t too big.

In the slow swell of the music, I’m looking at Vanessa and she’s looking at me, and I think we might kiss or something, but then the song ends. One of Rex’s college friends comes over the speakers to get everyone to the floor for a conga line and limbo, and I’ll be the first person to admit that group dancing is a delight.

“You don’t have to dance with me, but I will be tearing up that dance floor for at least thirty minutes before we can leave.”

Vanessa grins, a wild light on her face. “Lead the way.”