“Stop.” Tilly swats his arm. “I’m obsessed with your show.”
I glance at my new bride, wondering when she watches his show because the television’s barely on at home.
“I watch while I prep in the morning,” she says to me. “They’re just so deliciously sinful.”
Note to self—watch an episode and see what has Tilly in a tizzy, because standing here, looking at the guy in front of me, I don’t see it. He’s handsome but nowhere near celebrity status.
“Thanks for watching.” He smiles again, his teeth looking ridiculously white against his tanned skin.
“Enrique Sandoval is at my wedding,” Tilly says to herself and is almost shaking with excitement. “Where did you meet this handsome devil?”
Michelle peers up at Enrique with so much love, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so head over heels for someone.
She never looked at me the way she looks at him. Maybe it was our past and the fact that we knew each other for so many years. We were familiar and easy in ways that didn’t bring the great love I was looking for and found in Tilly.
Michelle laughs and grips Enrique’s arm. “I was broken down, changing the tire on my shit-ass truck, when Enrique stopped to help.”
“I couldn’t leave a beautiful woman to do a man’s job.” He brushes the hair away from her eyes. “Especially one with such a perfect ass.”
I try not to gag. The guy is full-on cheese, but I know Michelle’s in love with him. I’m happy for her. Beyond happy. She deserves some joy in her life, especially after the shitty childhood she had and losing her mother not too long ago.
“So, I guess you’re not coming back?” I ask, wondering if our lifelong friend has any chance of returning to Chicago.
Michelle shakes her head. “No. We’re getting married this winter, and since Enrique’s work is in Florida, we’re going to be moving there permanently.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I tell her and mean every word of it.
Whatever happened between Michelle and me is in the past, and although we fooled around a little, we were never more than friends. We were never meant to be more than that anyway.
“Maybe you can come with Daphne to our wedding,” Michelle says.
“Enrique Sandoval’s wedding?” Tilly’s eyes are so damn big at this point, and she’s totally star-struck.
“The entire cast will be there too,” Michelle tells her, selling her on a trip to California.
“We’ll be there.” Tilly nods before I have a chance to decline the informal invitation.
“Baby.” I wrap my arm around my wife’s waist, pulling her flush against me. “We’re being called to the dance floor.”
Maybe I lied. I am a little jealous, after all. I don’t like the way this guy has my girl all gaga over him, even if it’s more about his fictional, on-screen persona than the man himself.
“It was nice to meet you,” Tilly says over her shoulder as I move her toward the dance floor.
I lean over as I pass Michelle and whisper, “It’s nice to see you happy.”
She smiles, waving at us. “We’ll see you in California,” she calls out.
“Can you believe that?”
“What?” I ask my wife, guiding her through the sea of people.
“We have a celebrity at our wedding.” She glances up at me, expecting me to be overly excited.
I put on my best game face. “Very exciting,” I lie. “You know what’s even more exciting than that?”
She turns to face me as we come to a stop in the center of the dance floor. “What?”
I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tightly. “You’re Mrs. Angelo Gallo.”
