Page 16 of Two Friends in Marriage
“Hey.”Evan touches my shoulder.“How are you?Is my family overwhelming?”
He’s wearing a gray tux that I helped him pick out.His tie has become the tiniest bit crooked since the ceremony, and I reach up to fix it.
“No,” I say.“Nolan just said I look like a princess.”
“You do.”
Lana and Camila approach us.Lana is wearing a wide-legged purple jumpsuit—with her long legs, it looks much better on her than it would on me—and Camila is decked out in a blue cocktail dress.
“Hey, you two lovebirds,” Lana says.“How does it feel to be married?”
“Good,” I say.“Very good.”
But I swear Evan’s smile slips a fraction of an inch before he wraps his arm around me and echoes my words.
Or perhaps I imagined it.
There’s no long head table for lunch: Evan and I are seated at a round table with his parents, his brothers and their girlfriends, and Claudia.We start with a seasonal salad, followed by lemon roasted chicken, and then it’s time to cut the wedding cake.
Although Evan and I didn’t bother with speeches and dances, we both wanted to have a cake, and we were both in agreement that we cared more about the taste than the appearance.There’s no fondant, just swirls of vanilla buttercream with a few artfully placed buttercream flowers.The bottom cake is chocolate; the top cake is vanilla with a raspberry filling.
The cake was wheeled into the tent earlier, and now, I stand up and grab the provided knife.Evan places his left hand over my right hand.It feels strange to cut a cake while someone else is touching me, but I manage to cut a slice of the top cake.He breaks off a tiny piece and holds it to my lips.I open my mouth, and my lips graze his fingers.
Mm.
Feeding each other cake feels rather performative—like our kiss at the end of the ceremony—but I’m happy to do it.
And when someone from the venue starts serving up the cake, I take the first chocolate slice and walk it over to Nolan, and everyone laughs.
By four o’clock, the reception is officially over, and we thank everyone for coming before they head home.Claudia gathers up the guestbook and gifts—nearly all envelopes—and we head home in the limo with the boxed-up cake.
Home.
I’m still getting used to the idea that this house is now ours.
In my bedroom, I take off my dress but leave my hair and makeup.When I step into the kitchen, Evan and Claudia are already there, wearing casual clothes.The two of them are taking apart my bouquet and putting the flowers in vases—I’d mentioned that I want to keep the flowers—and they’re laughing about something or other.
“What do you think?”He gestures toward a vase with pink and white roses, and I chuckle when he does jazz hands.
“Looks good,” I say.
“You hungry?Anyone need more than cake tonight?”
“Actually, I’m a little hungry.”
Nobody is in the mood to cook, so we order pizza to our new house for the second time.
After I remove the pins from my hair and wash it—I need to get out all the hairspray—I walk into Evan’s bedroom, since the door is open.I’m wearing a loose T-shirt and pajama shorts, no bra, and it feels normal to be around him like this.
Evan is sitting at the end of his bed, and he’s also in a T-shirt and shorts.His elbow is resting on his knee, his hand is splayed over his face, and there’s something oddly compelling about the pose, the slight crease between his eyebrows.He looks like he’s deep in thought.I’m about to return to my room when he looks up at me and smiles.He pats the mattress, and I come to sit beside him.
“We did it,” he says.
“Yes, we did.”
He puts his arm around me and pulls me against his lean frame, and we sit like that for a moment before he kisses the top of my head.
I’m acutely aware of the fact that this is not how newlyweds are supposed to part on their wedding day.And it doesn’t bother me…much.I’m not usually too concerned about what I’m “supposed” to do.But the occasional wistful looks on his face—plus the question he asked me this morning—make me wonder if he had doubts, even if they weren’t enough to run back up the aisle.
