Cuff Me(8)

Elena had already sent him a scolding text that he’d missed the surprise part.

So had his mother.

He hadn’t heard from Jill, but then she wasn’t the type to bust his balls about stuff like that. She liked to reserve that for work-related topics.

Still, he regretted being late. But as it turned out, thinking of a welcome home gift for one’s partner is something that should not be left for the actual homecoming day.

After his haircut, Vin’s plan had been to go out and get… something to welcome Jill home.

But what was supposed to be a basic, simple errand had led to Vincent driving all over the Goddamn city, growing increasingly clueless on what was appropriate.

Flowers? No. Vin didn’t do flowers. To say nothing of what his brothers would have done if Vincent had shown up with f*cking roses.

Wine? Fitting. Jill loved wine. But seeing as the wine was already likely to be flowing freely at Anth’s place, a little anticlimactic.

Jewelry? Fuck no.

Clothes. Even Vin knew that was a no-no. You get the wrong size, you’re a dead man.

But damn it, he’d wanted to get something. Needed to. Needed to show her…

He’d gotten her a doughnut.

A maple bar, which as far as he was concerned was a sorry excuse for a doughnut. If it wasn’t chocolate, he didn’t bother. But the first day he and Jill had been paired up, and she’d talked his f*cking ear off, that was the first thing she’d told him.

Hi, I’m Jill! I think we’re going to be great partners, but before we can be best friends, we’re going to have to know each other’s favorite kind of doughnut. Mine’s a maple bar…

Vincent smiled at the memory as he knocked at the door.

There was no answer, and he was about to let himself in, when it opened.

A wall of sound hit him. Typical Moretti family gathering volume: loud.

“Vin! I’m so glad you’re here.”

Vincent flashed a smile at his new sister-in-law. Maggie Walker—no, Maggie Moretti—was just about the sweetest woman on the planet, and far too good for Anthony.

She was dressed in a knee-length navy dress, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders, a warm smile in place, as always.

“Hi, dear,” he said, kissing her cheek as he slipped in the front door.

Vincent turned to face her, reaching out a hand and resting it unapologetically against her slightly rounded belly. “How’s my nephew?”

She smiled and glanced down. “Don’t let Anth hear you say that. He’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Only because he knows a junior version of him will be an absolute nightmare.”

Anthony Moretti appeared at his wife’s side. “I heard that, brother dearest. And, actually, I’m a junior. So if we have a son and name him Anthony, he’d be the third.”

Vin shook his head. “You sound like an *.”

Anth shrugged. “We’re Italian. I don’t make the rules.”

“Whatever. Everyone all here?”

“Seeing as the party started at six, yeah, everyone’s here, ” Anth said.

“See? Asshole,” Vincent grumbled, starting to brush past his brother and head toward the kitchen where all the noise was coming from.

Where Jill was.

Anth grabbed his arm, and Vincent glanced up in surprise before shaking free. “What the hell, man? I’m thirty minutes late. Not a big deal.”

Anth opened his mouth, but shut it again after glancing at Maggie.

Vin shot a glance over his shoulder at his sister-in-law, whose expression was troubled. “Am I missing something?”

Neither responded, and he shrugged. “Whatever.”

He continued toward the kitchen, his eyes automatically scanning the room for Jill, even as he registered that the hand holding the bag with the doughnut was slightly sweaty.

You idiot. Should have left it in the car.

His eyes locked on the group of women in the corner, but before he could find Jill, who was several inches shorter than the rest of them, his younger brother stepped in front of him, blocking his field of vision.

“Champagne?” Luc asked.

Vincent accepted the glass, mostly to get it out of his face, before frowning at the fussy flute. “Is there no red opened?”

Luc clinked his glass against Vin’s. “We’re celebrating, douche bag.”

Vin took a sip. It was actually pretty good. “What are we celebrating?”

There was the briefest of pauses before Luc responded, and Vin’s instincts went on high alert. Now both brothers were acting strangely.

Not good.

“That Jill’s home,” Luc said.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. His brother’s voice was too cheerful, even for Luc.

Testing his brother, he stepped to the side. Luc sidestepped with him, blocking Vin’s view of the women.

Bingo. Vincent took another casual sip of the champagne. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you and Anthony going to flip for it?”

“We already did flip for it,” Luc grumbled. “I won, and yet I notice Big Brother’s conveniently loitering with his hot wife by the front door.”

“Great,” Vin said, clamping his brother on the shoulder. “You can tell me later then. In the meantime, you cool if I go greet the guest of honor?”