“So, what about that video?”
“Video?” I asked, eyes widened.
Oh shit. I forgot about that. I was so caught up in her being my wife. My wife!
“Eh, it doesn’t matter,” I said, shrugging. “Let’s look at pictures.”
“Charlie!” Athie exclaimed. “I can’t find it anywhere on social media.”
I shoveled food into my mouth. “Then don’t worry about it. It’s not like everyone hasn’t already seen both of us naked on my stream.”
“My friends haven’t!”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
After shooting me a glare, Athena took a bite of her eggs. “Thought you’d want to see our wedding night.”
“Wedding night? I want to see the goddamn wedding first!” I murmured. “It’s more important to me than seeing you naked.” I wiggled my brows at her. “I can do that anytime I want. Now we have to have pictures, right? We didn’t get married and not take any pictures.”
“We got married in a dirty casino chapel.” She giggled. “I doubt we have anything.”
I leaned back against the headboard and opened my phone’s gallery. Inside, there were a handful of blurry pictures from the club, after we must’ve both blacked out. I leaned toward her, showing her my screen.
She rested her forehead against my shoulder and took a bite of her chocolate chip pancakes. “Nuh-uh. We actually took some?” She buried her face into my arm, hiding behind it. “I’m scared.”
“Scared, huh?” I hummed, scrolling through to the next set of pictures, where we were in the chapel.
Someone must’ve taken my phone because we were up at the altar, getting married by a half-naked priest in a sombrero.
“Look at us.” I chuckled. “And you said it wasn’t special.”
“You’re right. Not everyone gets married next to a Mexican restaurant.”
My lips curled into a smirk, and I let Athie take my phone and start scrolling herself. She drew her lips into a small smile, the sunlight flooding into our hotel room and hitting her pretty eyes, making them a sea of color.
She was so beautiful, and I couldn’t believe that she was mine.
Truly mine.
My gaze dropped to our fingers, and warmth spread through my body. We were married.
Married in our early twenties to each other. To my best friend.
Two weeks ago, I would’ve never guessed that something like this would ever happen. I would’ve never had the courage to ask her to be mine, to kiss her, to show the love that I’d had for the past few years of my life.
Most of all, I was glad that she was taking this so … lightheartedly.
“What is this?!” she exclaimed, eyes popping out of her head as she scrolled to the next picture. She grasped her stomach and burst out into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“I told you that you ate tacos off my ass.”
She hid her giggles behind her hand. “At least it wasn’t your bare ass.”
“What’s wrong with my bare ass?”
Instead of responding, she scrolled to the next one, where a drunk Athena and Charlie posed in front of the camera, hugging each other tightly, our hazy eyes half open, and drunken smiles on each of our faces.
“You know,” she whispered, dragging her fingers across my jaw, “even if we don’t remember it, I’m ecstatic to be married to my best friend in the entire world for the rest of my life, to be Mrs. Easton.”
