Silence is our companion. We get through the traffic and to our destination without saying another word. The tension in the car is making me itch, and I pull at the collar of my tuxedo, careful not to mess with the bow tie that took way too long to tie.
I pull up to the valet service and hand the young man the keys as I get out of the car. I go around and open Holly’s door. Since our shopping trip yesterday, she’s been willing to wait for me to get her door.
I’m counting it as a win.
We walk up to the entrance; a small red carpet lines the way into the corporate-looking building, its wall of glass windows reflecting the flashing lights outside. We pose for the event photographer on the steps before entering arm and arm.
Holly’s stomach growls, severing the tension between us like a knife.
I chuckle. “Before we talk to anyone, we’re getting some food in you.”
Her smile is hesitant, and her grip on my arm loosens. Maybe my words did get through to her a little bit.
We walk in to a sea of men and women in black tie clothing. My height comes in handy as I look for a server. I spot one handing out hors d’oeuvres in the middle of the main floor. We weave through sharply dressed men and women until the server holds his tray out to us. I pick up several of the tiny food items, holding them in my palm for Holly. The server arches an eyebrow and I give him my goofy smile and thank him. I’m rewarded with a small nod and another raised eyebrow before he moves on.
Holly tugs on my arm and I lean down as she goes up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “You’re only supposed to get one at a time, Mateo.” She steps back down and looks around at the people around us, who are giving me the side eye.
Well, messing this up didn’t take long. I shrug. “Guess I’ll have to eat these until there’s only one left for you.” I’d wink at her, but she’s not making eye contact with me. Her eyes have focused on the food in mypalm.
She grabs two of the little snacks. I’d prefer she take them all, considering they’re barely even bite-sized. I don’t know how people think microscopic snacks can even be good, let alone satiating.
I shove one in my mouth.
As soon as the cold dead fish taste hits my tongue, I gag. The small shrimp topping a cucumber slice is not a combo I’d have ever chosen. My taste buds are revolting.
This cold and rubbery piece of meat should not be called shrimp. The cold cucumber underneath it has a creamy sauce with a strong garlic flavor. It’s all the wrong flavor notes combined, and I don’t know if I can force myself to swallow it.
Holly has not stopped giggling since I put this microscopic gag food in my mouth. The pleasant sound is the only thing keeping me from spitting the food out in a napkin.
Finally, I’m able to swallow, and it's a miracle I don’t even dry heave. I cover my mouth, because I don’t know how long that atrocity will want to stay down for.
“Still want to eat all of those by yourself, farm boy?”
It’s a good thing I like my wife.
Especially when she’s laughing and sassy.
“Anything for you, Buttercup.” I move to put another cucumber shrimp abomination in my mouth, just to see how she reacts.
“No, stop,” Holly says as her hand wraps around mine, pulling it away from my face.
“As you wish,” I say as our eyes meet.
A blush spreads across her cheeks and I’m dying to kiss every spot of her pink-tinted skin.
I will have the records note it is very hard to be married to a woman you’re practically in love with, and for her to not return your affections.
Being a gentleman has never been so hard. No wonder so many mendon’t do it. It takes an inordinate amount of self-control.
But Holly is worth every agonizing second and all the patience I’m cultivating.
Holly finishes the few shall-not-be-named hors d’oeuvres. After taking the last bite, she pulls out a breath mint from her clutch, pops one in her mouth and offers one to me.
It’s official. My wife is an angel.
Next, she pulls out her lipstick, quickly swiping it across her lips, touching up their raspberry tint. It’s as if that swipe of lipstick gives her an extra dose of confidence. Her shoulders straighten and she surveys the room like she owns the place. Her smile is confident, and I’m wondering if it’s real or if this is the façade she puts on when she needs to conquer the world.
She loops her arm through mine. “Ready to mingle until our feet hurt and our cheeks are strained from fake smiling?”
