“You mean civilians like Vivian weren’t so understanding about your hit list?”
With a convincing cock of his head and quirk of his dark eyebrow, Sal replies, “Vivian who?”
I can’t help grinning at him. “You’re nice.”
When we approach Mateo’s table, Meg is leaning in with her arm around him, her other arm extended as she holds out her cell phone and attempts to direct him in how she wants him to pose.
“I’ll smile if you take it within the next ten seconds, otherwise you’re out of luck,” Mateo states.
“Why don’t you like pictures?” she demands. “You’re gorgeous. You should love having your picture taken.”
“Six seconds.”
Growling, she pastes on a smile and leans her face against his. “Okay, now stick your tongue out.”
“What in God’s name—?” He scowls at the screen, then leans out of the shot. “All right, you lost your chance.”
“No,” she says dramatically. “Fine, you don’t have to stick your tongue out, but it would’ve been way more fun that way.”
“There are ears on that screen. You put ears on me.”
“Lily and Isabella love them. I just want to send a picture to Ju since we’re not going to be home for Lily’s bedtime.”
He shakes his head, drawing his own phone out of his pocket and turning his attention to that.
“What are you doing?” she asks, looking over at him. “Are you going to download the app so you can take pictures of yourself with puppy dog ears when you’re alone because you’re too embarrassed to admit you find it adorable? You don’t have to be so sneaky. I’ll love you even if you want to take puppy ear selfies.”
“No, I’m reminding myself to schedule a mental health evaluation after your next OBGYN appointment,” he states, eyes not moving from the screen. “Done.”
“Hey, guys,” I say, glancing from Meg to my brother.
“Will you tell your brother that the myth about cameras stealing your soul isn’t true, and he should let me take a picture of us at your wedding?” Meg asks me.
“I’ll take an ear-free picture of you guys if you want one,” I offer.
“I’ll take it.” Meg says, looking to Mateo. “You in?”
“I guess so.” He doesn’t seem thrilled, but he wraps his arm around Meg’s shoulders anyway so I can take a picture of them with her phone.
“There you go,” I say, handing it back.
Meg checks the picture, then nods her approval. “Perfect. Wanna see?” she asks, holding it out to Mateo.
He glances at it and nods, but he’s never been a picture person, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t care. I will not be offering to show him my honeymoon album.
“How’s the wedding?” Mateo asks me. “Everything you wanted it to be?”
“And more. Thank you again, you really didn’t have to pay for our wedding.”
“I pay for things; it’s what I do.”
“That’s why we like you,” Sal jokes.
“I know,” Mateo says, not joking.
“That’s not really why we like you,” I state, raising my eyebrows.
Sal nods his agreement. “It’s because you’re so virtuous.”
At that, Mateo smirks.
Meg joins in. “They’re right. You really need to step outside the box, you goody goody.”
“I’ll do my best to shake things up,” he assures her.
She grins, but then stage whispers, “Not really though, right?”
“I guess we’ll see,” he tells her, glancing out at the dance floor.
“If they play another Ed Sheeran song, I’m going to stab myself in the ear drum,” Meg states, following his gaze, then looking back to me. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Ed Sheeran, but they’ve played 800 of his songs already. I just remembered one was your first dance, and I have no filter, and this is probably why you don’t like me.” She misses half a beat, then goes on. “Your dress is so sweet, by the way. I’m not all about the ball gown myself, but you look like a princess.”
Mateo’s attention is across the room now, his gaze trained on a table on the other side of the dance floor. The DJ announces another slow song, and as the first strains of At Last by Etta James start up, Mateo is up and out of his chair. I expect him to ask Meg to dance—and from the look of it, she expects that, too—but before she can move to stand, he braces his weight on the back of her chair, leaning down to give her a kiss.
I step back, unsure what he’s doing. I’ve been given many hugs and Sal many handshakes, but I’m assuming I’ll see Mateo again before he leaves.
“Are you going somewhere?” Meg asks, as uncertain as we are.
“I’m going to go dance with Mia.”
My eyes widen, jumping to hers. Meg looks a little surprised, but she offers a smile. “Oh. Okay. Make sure you save Sinatra for me.”
Smiling back over his shoulder as he walks away, he tells her, “You know I will.”