His voice is reverent as he says a brief prayer, blessing our food and praying for guidance in our conversation and through the events of this weekend. Another sliver of peace works its way into my anxious heart after he says amen.
I look up, and our eyes meet. I’m lost in his brown irises, the color like the dark wood of my home office desk with a few gold flecks. They have a warmth that encompasses Mateo’s personality.
I blink, the moment between us broken by the movement. Silently, we dig into our sandwiches. I groan as I taste the balsamic glaze mixed with the pesto and the mozzarella. The combination is heavenly.
A matching noise comes from Mateo as he chews. His eyes are closed as he savors his sandwich. “This is delicious. I knew I would love the herb aioli on the bread.” He takes another large bite, practically dancing in his chair as he eats. “Nothing hits the spot like a good sandwich.”
“Amen to that,” I echo, holding my panini up in a mock toast, before taking another bite.
Mateo is as entertaining when he’s eating as when he talks.
This man loves his food.
His joy makes me feel like I won’t be judged for having an appetite. If I’m this comfortable eating in front of him, then maybe this marriage won’t be as awkward as I’ve feared. We’ll at least be able to enjoy good food together.
A few minutes later, and Mateo has finished eating, every bite of his sandwich a cherished experience.
He wipes his hands on his napkin and sits up straighter, his eyes pinning me to my seat. “Wedding rings. We never talked about wedding rings.”
I scrunch my nose. “Do we need wedding rings?”
His eyebrows raise. “Holly. We’re getting married to convince the public you’re off the market, and to get the lowlife men of this world away from you. Especially he-who-shall-not-be-named, because I don’t want to risk jail time by getting worked up. You need a wedding ring.”
An image of Jorge flits through my mind. He had asked me about a ring when I saw him last. I shove thoughts of him away and lock them back up and throw away the key for good measure. I am not giving that man another inch of space in my head. If a ring will keep me away from him, then get me the stinkin’ ring.
“You’ve convinced me. I don’t want something real, though.”
“Understandable. Should we go fake ring shopping then?”
I laugh. “I didn’t have any other plans for this afternoon besides cleaning my house, so why not?”
“Ring shopping over cleaning, for sure. Where should we go?”
I quickly chew through the bite I just took while thinking about Mateo's question, then frown.
“Um, I don’t know. I only know of real jewelry shops.”
He nods, slaps his hands against his thighs, and jumps to his feet. “Walmart it is then. Let’s go.”
I cough. “Mateo, I’m not done.”
He looks at my plate and then at me. “Oh yeah… you should finish.” He sits back down in his chair, his cheeks tinged pink. “I got a little excited.”
I laugh. “I can tell. Don’t worry, I’m almost done. Then you can help me pick out the biggest fake diamond of my life.”
He smirks. “I’m thinking at least five inches tall.”
I nod. “Definitely needs to match my ego.”
Mateo laughs. “What ego?”
I smile wryly. “The one that thinks I can pull this off and fool the world.”
He leans across the table, a mischievous smile across his lips. “We’re going to fool the world together and enjoy every moment of it.”
His smile sends butterflies through my stomach.
Maybe we will.
