Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) by Marina Adair Page B

surprised that Gabe had left him behind. Could even understand the need for it since he controlled the family purse strings. Nate, the family grape god also made sense. But Marc?
    “Why the fu—” Regan covered Baby Sofie’s ears and raised a condemning brow that damn near singed his soul, “—udge did Marc get to go?”
    And why the—again with the fudge—hadn’t anyone bothered to invite him? Or even asked him if he minded being left out and, subsequently, left behind?
    “There is already another interested party, and if we want the land, we have to move quick,” Lexi said and Trey wondered when the fuck! “we” started including everyone but him. “And since Marc is heading up the facilities part of the deal, him going made complete sense.”
    As opposed to Trey going, because why the hell would they need to consult the sales end of the business before engaging in a new venture whose success depended on sales ? The other day he felt as though he’d made ground with his brothers. That they were all on the same page. That he was finally back in the loop. Apparently not.
    Different project, different day—same old bullshit.
    “I was given strict instructions that until they return, you were the DeLuca to go to if I needed anything,” Regan said, her pacing having no impact on the kid’s vocal exercises.
    “Let me guess, Lamaze falls under the umbrella of anything.”
    “So does diaper changing and midnight feedings,” Regan clarified, while gently swaying Baby Sofie, whose eyes started to flutter closed—thank God. “So I suggest you keep your phone on.”
    He thought staring down his oldest brother with that mean-ass scowl was bad, but his pint-size wife with her little belly was by far the scariest DeLuca he’d ever faced.
    Trey looked at the overflowing inbox on his laptop, the seven conference calls and two interviews he had scheduled, and not a single e-mail from his family telling him they were headed to Italy. He felt like he was being strangled—slowly. “And Lamaze class is…?”
    “A bunch of hormonal women looking at birthing videos, breathing heavily, and complaining about swollen feet and lady parts. It’s very inspiring,” Regan deadpanned and Trey actually felt the walls closing in. “I mainly threw that one out there to make Holly’s audition sound like an easy break.”
    “Right.” He found himself breathing deep. “And Holly’s class is where?”
    “It’s from three to four at the Tap and Barre School of Dance. At the end of Main Street, right next to Petal Pushers.” And suddenly being the go-to guy didn’t sound so bad.
    Holly’s class would give him a reason to see Sara again, to move that “I’ll think about it” to a solid “Name the time and place.” Playing the doting uncle in the process couldn’t hurt. Plus, chauffeuring didn’t include diapers, breast milk, or talk of lady parts.

    “Is one of Auntie Lexi’s babies yours?” Holly asked, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.
    “What? No!” Trey nearly rammed the car in front of him, which earned him all kinds of honks and a stern headshake from the crossing guard.
    The parking lot of St. Vincent’s Academy looked like the starting line at a Formula 1 race. An endless queue of SUVs and minivans, each idling impatiently, each boasting luxury European emblems, and each displaying a placard with their child’s name in the front window, wrapped around the school and down past the corner.
    “Who told you that?”
    “No one. Me and Chloe, she’s the B to me and Lauren’s FF, figured it out because Nonna said Auntie Lexi is big enough to birth a litter of DeLucas.”
    Holly snapped her seat belt, adjusted the chair, and went on as though Trey’s life wasn’t getting shittier by the second.
    “Today was library day, and it went beginning letters first, and since I’m a D, DeLuca,” she clarified and waited until he nodded in understanding before continuing, “I got to pick out my book