“Well, you turned his son’s brain to mush and incited a war amongst his close family members; I probably wouldn’t like you either.”
“I didn’t mean to though. It’s not like I asked Vince to come back for me like a psycho. As far as I knew, he had moved on with his life—a nice, mob-free life that he only had because of me, I might add.”
“Well, I’m glad I survived you; it seems like your vagina is a black hole that no man makes it out of.”
That’s when we realize the bridal consultant is standing right there, gaping at us.
As if we’d been talking about silhouettes instead, Meg faces the woman. “There you are.” Wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me close, she says, “This little lady’s marrying my baby-daddy and we want to find her something nice to wear for the big day. Can you help?”
—
“How was dress shopping?”
I turn red just thinking about dress shopping, but I look over at Mateo, still seated to my right at the dinner table. The maid has just put down his salad, but I wait for her to give me mine.
Once she’s moved on to Adrian, I tell him, “Not great. Meg tried to kill me.”
Mateo raises a questioning eyebrow.
Meg rolls her eyes. “You can’t actually die from humiliation. That’s just a saying. Their dresses sucked anyway. We’ll go to the higher-end shop tomorrow.”
“I’m thinking Adrian should help me dress shop instead,” I say, glancing down in his direction.
“No,” Adrian says, not even looking up from his plate.
Elise is sitting there. I could ask Elise, but I feel like she’d say no.
“I promise not to embarrass you tomorrow,” Meg offers. “I didn’t intend to today, it’s just she already overheard too much, so I thought why the hell not?”
“Maybe I’ll ask Francesca to go,” I decide, grabbing my utensils and cutting up my salad. “Her dress was gorgeous.”
“I’ll just tag along, then. You’re stuck with me,” Meg states. “You can keep trying to get rid of me, but it’s not going to work.”
“Why don’t you take Colette?” Mateo suggests. “She’s doing the flowers, so she’s already involved.”
Grimacing, I say, “Okay, fine, I’ll take Meg.”
Mateo smirks faintly and Meg holds up her hand for a high five, but he leaves her hanging. “That’s cold,” she states, lowering her hand.
“There’s no chance you looked at me after nearly five years and thought, ‘you know what, I bet he’s going to give me a high five today.’ Literally no chance.”
Glancing across the table at me, Meg says, “You should really just let Mateo pick out your wedding dress. He picks out everything else you wear.”
“Not everything,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And he can’t pick this. He’s not allowed to see it until I walk down the aisle.”
“You really need to nail down the venue this week,” Mateo states.
“I gave you my top three,” I tell him.
“And two of those were churches,” he responds.
“Oh come on, you walked into a church for Francesca’s wedding. You didn’t burst into flames. It’ll be fine,” Meg assures him.
He shakes his head. “No church wedding. The theater’s the best space for the ceremony.”
To be honest, I’m not that particular about where we have the ceremony. I want to have it somewhere pretty, but I’d marry him in a landfill. “It’s not too late to elope,” I half-joke.
He smiles faintly, reaching across the table and caressing my hand. “I know it’s a lot of work. I just don’t want to wait a whole year.”
“Trust me, I’m fine with the rush. I just hate making so many decisions every day.”
“Well, that’s my fault,” he says mildly. “If you really don’t want to, just bring me your top picks and I’ll make final decisions.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of controlling literally everything?” Meg asks.
“No,” Mateo says, simply.
—
It’s a busy week of dress shopping, meeting with the wedding planner, and browsing photographer portfolios for the best one who has availability six months out. Mateo took the honeymoon plans right out of my hands, which I’m more than happy to give up. I know things turn out the way they should when he plans; I’m much less certain about things I have to plan for him. What if our wedding isn’t up to snuff? What if I pick the wrong chargers? What if the ring I pick out for him isn’t his taste? I’ve never bought him jewelry before. What if he’s unimpressed with the venue I like for the reception? What if I invite somebody Mateo hates, or fail to invite someone who should be there?
I hope it’s not like this for the next six months. I’m super into the aesthetic of a big, elegant wedding, but the actual planning is so stressful. Not to mention we’re going to be dropping so much money on this thing. I don’t have to deal with the financials, he signs off on all that, but I’ve seen enough to know this is going to cost an embarrassing sum of money—and I haven’t even picked a dress yet.