Page 115 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“Was that your stomach?” I asked my blushing soon-to-be bride. When she nodded sheepishly, I burst into laughter for the third time in short order.

Although I liked being a big, burly guy, I was going to develop abs if the wonderful people who had stumbled into my life kept amusing me so much. Or maybe it was I who had stumbled into theirs.

“How does some Chinese food sound?” I asked. There was plenty of meat still available, but I wanted something special for just me and my girl. My Olivia. My fiancée. “I know this place with amazing crab rangoon. You might have heard of it?”

The grin she sent me made all the celestial bodies above seem that much dimmer in comparison. She unwound her arms from around my shoulders and slipped her hand into mine.

“You had me at Chinese food.”

26

OLIVIA

THE SHOE IS ON THE OTHER FOOT (AND IT’S A FLAT!)

Four days.

Four days until I walked down the aisle.

I couldn’t believe it.

Everything had been a wild rush for so long, it was hard to believe that in less than a week I would be flying off to Italy for a month-long honeymoon, which my father had insisted on funding. It would be the longest time I’d ever been away from home, and although I was a bit intimidated by the idea, I was also excited.

Almost as excited as I was to marry the love of my life.

Not for the first time, I wished I could tell young, insecure Olivia how awesome her life would get. Especially once she was willing to stand up and allow herself to want, to fail, and to have things only for her.

“Olivia, dear, mio tesoro,” my mother’s voice drifted through the door. “Can we talk a minute?”

“Of course, Mama,” I said, making sure to save the pitch I was putting together for a freelance gig that would start after my honeymoon. “Is everything okay?” I asked as I opened the door.

“Sì, nothing to worry about. I know that your schedule is busy and I wanted to ask if you can pencil in helping me with baking for a fundraiser for del tuo cuginetto.”

“Ah yeah, Gunner, right?”

“You mean Giuseppe.”

“No, I mean Gunner.”

“He is named after his great-great zio! Is very honorable!”

“And he can be honorable when he grows up. Right now, he’s a kid who wants to be called Gunner.”

My mother sighed heavily but didn’t protest more, instead walking past me to cross to my computer, which was still on. “Here, I have the dates, will you check and let me know if is something you want to do?”

“If I’m free, I definitely want to help, Mama. Let me look right now.”

“Grazie, dear.”

Many, many things had changed since my thirtieth birthday party, but despite saying no more often and putting a whole lot more boundaries between me and my family, we were closer than ever. Things were asked of me more now than demanded, I often received plenty of warning so I could plan my efforts appropriately, and few ever complained if I said no. It was wonderful, especially because my mother and I spent less time rapidly trying to cook and set up for events and more time just being a mother and daughter.

“Looks like I’m free,” I said after checking my calendar. “Your backup baker is locked and loaded and ready to go!”

“And you are sure it will not be an issue that it’s two weeks after your viaggio di nozze with tuo amore?”

“It won’t be, I’m certain,” I said, standing and kissing the top of my mother’s head. “After being away for so long, you’re probably going to have to scrape me off your side with a spatula.”

My mother giggled, and it was such a sweet sound. “As if I would! Please, stick on your mama all you want! My baby girl is all grown up. When next we cook, you will be a signora! No longer my little signorina!”