“But you’re my wife,” I reminded her.
“It’s fake!” she hissed as we surveyed the crowd. She turned her head to try to eat a fried shrimp off the plate.
I watched in bemusement. “I’m a bit offended you’re more interested in the shrimp than your husband.”
“The shrimp don’t owe me a bar tab and Uber money,” she retorted.
“Grace!” I said, indignant, pressing a hand to my chest. “You said you were treating me!”
“And you said you were broke and forgot your wallet.” She took a long sip of her drink. “I can’t believe I was going to sleep with you!”
“I knew you were attracted to me,” I said smugly.
“Yeah, except you blew it by being a sociopath.”
“Hm,” I said thoughtfully, “I suppose I need to change things up so that I sleep with the girl first. Duly noted for next time.”
“Creep.”
“Can you two come to the dance floor?” Gunnar asked, black headset on.
“I’m eating,” Grace growled, slurping some freshly made pasta off of her plate.
My stomach growled, and I stole a crab claw from Grace’s stash. She tried to swipe at me with the hand that held the drink but spilled some on the dress. She swore.
I helpfully took the plate of snacks and her drink while she fumbled to try to blot the pink stain on the silk.
“Damn this is good pasta,” I said as I finished off the rest of her snacks.
“And,” I continued, draining the rest of the glass, “I take back what I said about girly drinks. This is pretty tasty!”
“That was mine!”
“We’re married. That means sharing.”
“It absolutely does not!” she sputtered.
“The dance floor…” Gunnar begged.
I wrapped an arm around Grace’s waist, leading her to the middle of the room. The other three couples were already there, swaying in that awkward, off-beat way people who were not forced to take ballroom dancing lessons as a child did.
“Surely you of all people know some good wedding dances,” I whispered to Grace, who stood stiffly as the other couples swayed around us. The brides gazed up adoringly at their husbands. Grace adjusted her glasses.
Gunnar pointed to the cameras and made begging motions.
I put one hand around Grace’s waist and took her other hand.
“You ever see the movieBeauty and the Beast?”
“Yeah,” she said suspiciously.
“Here we go!”
I stepped into a waltz. However, Grace was not wearing a floor-length ballroom dress. I turned us into a spin, and her legs were immediately tangled around the train of the dress. She stumbled and fell, the white tulle wrapping around my feet, bringing us both down to the floor with a crash.
“Shit!” I cursed as I cracked my hip on the parquet floor, turning us so that Grace landed on top of me.
“You did that on purpose!” she snapped, smacking me on the chest then wincing and shaking her hand.
