Page 69 of Before I Say I Don't
“You are,” Mariah smiled politely, then scanned the room. “Will the groom be joining us?”
Before I could answer, Diane cut in quick. “Yes, he should be here soon.”
Danica didn’t miss a beat. “Mariah, we can go ahead and proceed. The groomknewwhat time this was, and unfortunately…” She smiled sweetly, “…some of us aren’t on his clock.”
Diane was shooting daggers at Danica, and Danica was stood there like she had on bulletproof glass.
Mariah turned to me for final say—poor thing caught in the crossfire.
“She’s right,” I agreed smoothly. “Hissooncould be five minutes to an hour from now. He can catch up whenever he gets here.”
Out the corner of my eye, I saw Diane whip her head toward me like I had just betrayed the family.
I didn’t care. If I was being real, she was starting to work my nerves… just like the man she raised.
“Okaaaaay,” Mariah said brightly, clapping her hands once. “Right this way!”
And just like that, we walked deeper into the venue, pretending it was about food, when really, it was a three-course meal of shade.
After we concluded the extensive walkthrough, Mariah guided us into the elegantly appointed tasting room. The ambiance was delightful; crisp white linens adorned the tables, water glasses were beaded with condensation, and place cards, each inscribed with our names in graceful script, added a personal touch. A stunning tray of amuse-bouches awaited us,each delicately arranged like tiny art pieces—spoons filled with a vibrant citrus-cured salmon topped with micro herbs that looked almost like miniature apology letters.
Ten minutes after the designated start time, the heavy oak doors swung open.
Viangelo strolled in, exuding an effortless charm.
“My bad,” he announced casually, slipping into the room as though his presence was the main event. “Work got busy, but I’m here.”
A little snigger slipped out of me before I could catch it.
What I wanted to say wasyou should’ve taken the day off if you figured you’d be late.Instead, I simply nodded once in acknowledgment.
“We started,” I replied, maintaining my composure.
The chef, a woman with sleeve tattoos and a no-nonsense face, stepped forward to introduce the exquisite menu.
“We’ll begin with the appetizers: mini crab cakes accompanied by a zesty lemon caper remoulade, jerk shrimp skewers glazed with a tropical pineapple infusion, truffle-infused arancini topped with parmesan, and a playful caprese pipette featuring creamy mozzarella, vibrant basil, and a balsamic reduction for dipping.”
“Already feeling good about this,” Danica chimed in, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
We sampled the dishes, and I diligently took notes.
“Crab cake,” I noted, pointing my pen at the golden-brown morsel. “The crust has a satisfying crunch, but I think we could benefit from more lump crab meat and less filler in the mix.”
“Agreed,” Danica said. “And let's bump the acidity of the remoulade; it needs more punch.”
“The spice on the shrimp is spot-on,” I remarked, savoring the flavors. “Don’t hold back—our guests will definitely be enjoying drinks alongside their food."
We all shared a laugh—Well, everyone exceptNegative Diane.
“Way too spicy for my liking,” Diane objected, frowning slightly. “We have elderly guests to consider.”
“In that case, they can stick to the caprese,” Danica commented with a cheeky grin that revealed all her teeth.
Viangelo chuckled, but the humor quickly faded when he caught his mother’s disapproving glance.
The chef poured two signature cocktails into tiny glasses. “First up, we have The Closing Argument—an elegant concoction of rich bourbon, aromatic orange bitters, and a hint of brown sugar, topped off with an expertly expressed orange twist. For the second option, behold The Midnight Garden—a refreshing blend of crisp gin, floral elderflower liqueur, cool cucumber slices, and a subtle kiss of lime for balance.”
I took a thoughtful sip of each of the cocktails, savoring their complex flavors.
