![]() Eventually Evie
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Text to Matilda: Someone just threw a meatball at my face. Talk about kicking a girl when she’s down. Rescue me? I don’t know what I did to piss off the Universe, but she’s had it in for me for a while. And because of her latest stunt, I now have bits of ground beef stuck in my hair and Aunt Pina’s famous tomato sauce streaking my face and shirt. You could easily mistake me for an extra on the set of a mediocre horror film—one who just realized her real life will never be the quirky rom-com she desperately wants it to be. This is not what I signed up for. Who approved these script changes? It’s my fault for allowing myself to get distracted. I sent an urgent text to Matilda, my best friend, over twenty minutes ago, and I was just checking my phone to see if she answered—she hadn’t. And then a three-year-old sniper attacked me. My cousin Frankie’s son has been going through a phase where he throws everything that isn’t glued down as if he’s trying out for the Yankees. I’m his favorite target, so I need to stay on my toes when he’s around. Thank goodness he’s adorable and I’m a sucker for dimples. All of my adult family members are too busy screaming at each other to notice—or punish—the meatball-throwing toddler. Their voices are getting louder and louder, and even though I love everyone sitting at this table, I sometimes wish my family enjoyed the sound of silence a little bit more. But the scene before me is completely normal. All the sharp objects on the table will be used to eat a delicious dinner, not to stab someone in the heat of the moment. Despite the loud voices and animated gestures, no one is angry. In fact, it’s a joyous occasion. My cousin Bianca—Bee to friends and family—has just announced she’s getting married. Obviously, the earth has stopped spinning on its axis at the very news and the presses have screeched to a halt. It’s also my birthday today, but my measly milestone has once again been eclipsed by something involving Bee. It’s almost become a beloved family tradition, and I’m so used to her claiming all the attention for herself that I can’t be mad at Bee. I’m not in the mood for attention anyway. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” Bee is holding up a bunny-eared iPhone so we can see a picture of the ring Mike is going to buy her—a princess cut diamond surrounded by two smaller pink stones on a white gold band. I crane my neck to get a closer look. As per the ring website, this model is their biggest seller and a wonderful way to tell her you want to spend all of eternity by her side. Gag me. But why isn’t the ring on her finger? “Wait. Wait. Wait. Hold on a minute,” my cousin Fabrizio says between bites of crusty bread dripping in the extra virgin olive oil one of my uncles brings back from Italy every year. “Why am I looking at a picture of this ring on your phone? Shouldn’t it be on your finger?” He’s clearly reading my thoughts. (And he’s also spewing crumbs with every word, but we’re on opposite sides of the table, so I’m safe. Aunt Pina—not so much.) Bee flicks her long, chocolate-colored hair off her shoulder and gives her brother a stern look. “We’re not technically engaged yet. But it’s going to happen. Soon. We’re just waiting for the ring to be delivered.” It’s obvious by her narrowed eyes that follow-up questions will not be accepted at this time. It takes all the willpower in the world for me not to groan in annoyance. Does Mike know he’s just a UPS delivery window away from proposing? And won’t he wonder why no one is surprised when Bee makes her official announcement? “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.” Aunt Pina—one of my mother’s four sisters—can’t get the words out without choking up, and she brings a linen napkin to her face to delicately wipe away a tear. Bee is her only daughter—a much-prayed-for miracle baby after five boisterous sons—and her wedding day has been planned since the second she was born. It will be a night fit for a princess—a big fat Italian wedding to top all other big fat Italian weddings. Every single guest will marvel at how delicious the food was, how gorgeous the bride looked in her designer dress, how no expense was spared from the finest champagne to a dessert table guaranteed to induce a diabetic coma and widespread jealousy and envy. ![]()
GIVEAWAY!
1 Comment
Sue G.
1/7/2021 12:06:24 pm
This sounds like it will be really funny!
Reply
Leave a Reply. |