Page 13 of Our Big White Lie
“And she’d probably have told him like a dozen reasons why he might need the beaker, until he actually did.”
“Right? She was savage.”
Just like that, we were off and running, reminiscing about our high school days as we continued through the wine. Before we knew it, the night had gotten away from us, and it was time to take our drunk butts to bed.
And we hadn’t made an inch of progress toward simplifying our wedding.
I didn’t mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Tori
My job was fully remote, but Marco worked in an office downtown. Since I wasn’t “chained to a desk like a goddamned peasant” and could “take my laptop someplace comfortable instead of rotting away in a human zoo,” it usually fell on me to come to him if we were meeting during the week. I didn’t mind, especially since I nearly always spent a couple of hours working in a coffee shop before we met up. I loved my job.
Marco was not nearly as fond of his place of employment. “Are you sure your company isn’t hiring?” Coffee in hand, he dropped into the chair across from me with a pouty flourish. “Because I need to work at home where I can scream into the abyss in peace.”
“Mmm, yeah.” I gave him a toothy grin. “It’ssonice.”
He tsked and kicked me under the table. “I hate you.”
“Your jealousy issotransparent.”
Sighing theatrically, he rubbed his eye with his middle finger.
“Oh, don’t be a baby.” I kicked him back. “You make three times what I do. You can suck it up and scream into a pillow.”
He made a haughty sound and muttered, “As long as it’s a designer pillow.”
I snickered, and he let a chuckle break through. This was and always had been our dynamic, and I loved it. Marco’s snark had kept me sane through a lot of dark times, and I’d helped him through some pretty rough spots too. There were people who thought our humor hit below the belt, but we understood each other and knew where the lines were.
A mutual friend had once joked that if we’d both been straight, we probably would’ve married each other.
“Oh God, no,”Marco had said, voice full of horror.“No way in hell.”
“Yeah, no,”I’d agreed.“We’d be divorced after a week.”
“Divorced?”He’d scoffed.“Please. You’d bury me in the backyard and run off with my money.”
“Hmm. Good point. Divorces are expensive. Shovels are cheap.”
Our friend hadn’t known how to respond to that. Marco and I had collapsed into laughter. Yeah, our humor wasn’t for everyone, but I adored him and wouldn’t trade him or his bullshit for anything.
And speaking of getting married…
“So.” I absently turned my coffee cup between my fingers on the table. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
Marco’s expression shifted to a serious one. “Oh yeah?” He sipped his own coffee. “What’s on your mind?”
I tapped my nails beside my cup. “You’re still ordained, right? For weddings?”
He scoffed and nudged my leg with his foot. “It’s not a driver’s license, hon. It doesn’t expire.”
“They don’t make you take a test every year?” I asked with a grin. “Make sure you can still get through a wedding without sobbing or telling a mother-in-law to pound sand?”
“Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. “Fending off an evil mother-in-law gets me extra ordained.”
“So, like an advanced belt? I thought this wasmaritalarts, notmartialarts.”
