“No reason,” Nick said too quickly, brushing past him and pulling the towel from his back pocket.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked me.
I shrugged. “We were wondering the same thing about you.”
He jerked his head back in surprise, then huffed out, “Nothing.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, injecting a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Sure seems like nothing.”
Frank deflated with a hugh sigh. “It’s the wedding. Between Claudia, her mom, and our mom, I’m going to go insane with all the questions they ask me on a daily basis. I don’t care about the color of the napkins at the reception. And why are there three thousand different shades of white? Who did that? White is white. Just pick one.” He sounded completely exasperated and out of his element.
“Wait until she’s pregnant,” I said seriously.
Frank and I looked at each other, then burst out laughing. We were half crazy, exhausted, or both. There had to be some explanation for our ridiculous laugh attack, especially if ultra-serious Frank was involved.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop laughing and pull myself together.
Frank wiped at his eyes, his expression finally sobering. “I just want to marry my girl without all the fanfare,” he said, and I knew exactly what he meant.
“I feel you. I’d be perfectly happy if we only have a dozen people there when Sofia and I tie the knot.”
I’d hadn’t really thought about a potential guest list for our wedding yet, but saying that out loud felt right. Small and intimate definitely appealed to me. But I knew I’d give Sofia whatever she wanted, even if it was the exact opposite of what I did.
“If anyone will okay a private gathering, it’s your girl,” Frank said confidently. “Hell, she’ll probably let you two get married in the backyard, and I’m going to be so damn jealous about it.”
“It’s not like you and Claudia are having some East Coast wedding with four hundred guests,” I said matter-of-factly, knowing their head count of about sixty was considered small by wedding standards.
“It’s not the number of people. It’s the details. There are so many details.” Frank ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “We couldn’t even send out the invitations without making twenty decisions first. They’re just invitations. Send them an email, for all I care.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I said, “When I get mine, it’s going on my fridge underneath a superhero magnet, just so you know.”
“It better,” Frank said seriously. “Did you know that in order to even pick that invitation, we had to choose the size, the color, and the shape of the paper it was printed on? Did you know that?”
I gave him an embarrassed look. “I actually did know that.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he said with a groan. “You’re a damn princess.”
It had been ages since he’d called me any kind of girlie name. I sort of missed it.
Frank threw his arms out in frustration. “Did you know that you have to pick an ink color, because heaven forbid you simply pick black? And don’t forget to choose a font type. Do you want it to be raised on the invitation, or printed flat? Should the time of the ceremony be spelled out in letters, or be in number format? And, oh yeah, would you like to order the extra square tissue-paper thingy that goes inside the envelope for people to throw away the second they open it? Don’t throw away that fucking tissue square, Ryan, or else.”
The poor guy looked and sounded exhausted. Just when I thought he was finished, Frank started raving again.
“All of that for one thing. One thing. And we’re late sending them out. We’re supposed to give people six weeks’ notice, but we only gave them four. They all know the date anyway. We had to send out the pre-invitation invitations. What are those things called again?”
I wondered if this was meant as a rhetorical question, and if he’d murder me if I answered him. “Save-the-date cards?”
“Yes! Save-the-damn-date cards. They already know the date. The invitation is just a formality.” He gripped my shoulder. Hard. “Do yourself a favor and elope. I’m telling you. Elope and save yourself.”
“Maybe save that speech for Nick.” I glanced toward our youngest brother, who was chatting with customers while wiping down the next table.
There was no way that Sofia and I would ever consider getting married without our families and Matson present. Especially after everything we’d gone through with Derek. Running away and eloping would be like a slap in the face to everyone who had stood by us, worried with us, and fought for us. We could never do that to them.
“You’re right,” Frank said, an odd note in his tone. “If anyone needs to be saved, it’s gonna be him.”
“What do you mean? Jess is great.” My head swung around and I stared at him. I’d never heard Frank say an unkind word about Jess, so I wasn’t sure where this was coming from.
Frank looked at me like I was crazy. “I only meant that Jess works in the entertainment industry. Nick will be lucky if he even knows half the people at his wedding. It could be more of a circus than a wedding.”