Page 111 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“I know it hasn’t been easy, going from...” This time, his gaze shifted to Chuck and my old woodworking instructor. He caught himself before he said anything too wolfish. “Your culture to ours, but you have handled it better than anyone could ask you to. When we threw you curveballs, you caught them, and instead of telling us off like maybe you should have, you accepted us with a spirit of open heart and communication.

“And I have to say, although it might be the sentimental side of me, I do think we are all better off for the blending you’ve introduced into our pa—family! Many of our elder aunties and uncles are learning more English to get in the hu—outside world, and you practicing your Italian with the little ones has eased a lot of their fears about the younger generations losing our roots. You have introduced us to so many restaurants we would never try, and of course, Mama loves having a new soul to feed.”

I knew my emotions simmered closer to the surface than a lot of people would expect for my gruff exterior, but I was truly touched by Riccardo’s kind words. He had always been pleasant once we got over the slapping-my-back-too-hard misunderstanding, and I got the feeling that he too was trying to reconnect with his family after several years of being busy with his own business that he’d started. At least, that was the impression I got from Olivia.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how much better things are for my baby sister. We used to joke that she was born already eighty years old, but now, after seeing how she smiles with you, laughs with you, how she dances at parties and doesn’t try to take on every task like she’s the only one in the world who can do it, I realize that perhaps we didn’t allow her to be anything other than an old soul.”

He stopped his emphatic hand movements and raised his glass as high into the air as his lengthy arms would allow. “So this is to you, my soon-to-be brother. Though there may be arguments and misunderstandings in the future, and less accepting folks in our family who cause drama and other struggles, none of us will forget what you have done for not only my sister, but all of us! Saluti!”

“Saluti!” everyone else echoed.

“Cheers!” Chuck added.

We all tipped our drinks back, even me despite how embarrassed and pleased I felt at the same time. Thankfully, no one else thought they could top that, so we went back to eating and talking, the conversation drifting to the story of how I’d first met Olivia, to both kinds of football, to European cars, to future furniture projects that my mentor or I were involved in. At one point, Rolando and Massimo asked Chuck if he could make a full set of armor, only for him to jokingly tell them he couldn’t afford it. After I assured him that they could probably afford an entire troop of medieval knights, he got a whole lot less jokey and a whole lot more interested.

In other words, it was absolutely wonderful.

I was truly content to have my bachelor party be just that, all of us talking and drinking around a table with people occasionally getting up to tend to the grills and smoker. But as the sun finished setting behind the Airbnb, sinking into the jagged tree line to turn their gently swaying branches into shifting silhouettes against the crystalline stars slowly dappling the darkening sky, there was a very loud buzzer sound.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, alarmed, before seeing that my party planners were grinning like madmen.

“That’s the sound of the doorbell,” Riccardo said, trying not to look too pleased with himself and failing entirely. “Are you expecting any more guests?”

I shot him a look, because really? Some people thought me naïve, and I could be awfully trusting, but I wasn’t stupid. “I don’t know, are you?”

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, come on Keithie boy! You’re being a bad host, go answer the door!”

“So that’s how it is?” I asked, my eyes going to the person who would be the worst at keeping a secret: Rolando.

But the youngest of the group purposefully avoided my eyes and was staring so intently at his phone that I decided to give him a bit of mercy.

“All right, but this better be something like pizza delivery.”

Paulie made a sound like I had insulted his mother personally. “You think we would order you fast food pizza? I think our alpha would have our heads all over again!”

“Right.”

If it wasn’t pizza, it could really only be one thing. A stripper. And while I had no issue with midnight ballerinas and had gone to strip clubs a couple of times in my life, I wasn’t interested in that now. Not unless Olivia wanted to go and sit in my lap the entire time.

Even if I wasn’t a shifter, I supposed they were rubbing off on me a bit, because I felt a territorial growl rise in my chest at the thought of interacting with any other woman in a sexual manner. Olivia was my one and only, my whole world, and no stranger in truly impressively tall shoes was going to change that.

Nonetheless, I marched through the house, acutely aware that the rest of my party members were following behind at a slight distance, trying to be inconspicuous and failing entirely. Yeah, it most certainly was an exotic dancer.

I supposed I could always give her all the cash I had in my wallet and send her on her way. After all, it wasn’t her fault she had been booked by people who wanted to give me a rip-roaring good time but didn’t know how completely gone I was on my future wife.

Still, it made me a little uncomfortable that the men I had gotten to know so well over the past year had misjudged my character so much. Oh well. We could talk about it another time.

Finally, I reached the door and opened it, bracing myself to give an awkward but polite refusal.

“Greetings! Sorry to bother you on this night, but I’m afraid I lost my darling rabbit Guinevere, and I received word that there have been sightings of her lovely, dappled face in this very Airbnb!”

I stared, utterly gobsmacked, as a man slightly older than me brushed right past my bulk and into the main room of the rental. He wasn’t alone. An impressively tall and burly woman dressed in a pinstripe suit with a top hat matching his rolled in a dolly full of supplies, nearly running over my toe.

“I’m sorry,” I asked in disbelief. This was not a stripper. “Did you say your rabbit?”

“Yes! My darling familiar, Guinevere Gwendolyn Gardenia the Sixth, and I, Giancarlo the Illustrious, will not rest until I have her safe within my hat again!”