His blue eyes looked sad. “But I’m not gettin’ married for me. I’m doin’ it for Donovan.” He leaned forward. “I’m not sure it’s whathewants.”
Reilly crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously?”
Tate frowned.
“You’re tryin’ to tell me that not a single part of you, no matter how small, doesn’t want to get married?”
He shrugged.
“I call bullshit.”
“Hey.” Tate glared at her. “It’s not—”
“You might be able to make D believe that shit, but I’m not buyin’ it. You want to marry him.”
“I want tobemarried to him, yeah,” Tate defended. “I just wish we didn’t have to have a wedding.”
“More reason to have a double wedding,” she insisted. “At one of those cute little chapels in Vegas. We can walk down the aisle together.”
Tate huffed a laugh. “Next, you’ll try to fit me for a veil. I’m not walkin’ down the aisle, Rye.”
“Why not?’
“It’s not customary for a gay wedding.”
“Whatiscustomary?”
Another shrug. At this rate, he was gonna pull his neck out.
“We just kinda stand at the altar. There’s no fancy way to get there.”
Lame. Reilly didn’t like it.
“Customary, smushtomary. Who cares?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Ourwedding. We get to set the precedent.”
“I think Donovan would prefer something more traditional,” Tate argued.
Reilly rolled her eyes. “I think D would dress up like a dinosaur and wear a tutu on the steps of the capitol building while strangers serenaded ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ off-key while dressed up like eggs if you asked him to.”
Tate’s eyes widened a second before he snorted a laugh.
Yeah, the image of Donovan sporting a tutu made her snort, too.
“He just wants to marry you,” Reilly told her best friend. “I heard him talkin’ to Brady. He doesn’t care when or where. He just. Wants. To be. Your. Husband.”
She wasn’t surprised when Tate didn’t say anything, but Reilly could tell he was processing.
“Plus, we’ve never been to Vegas. We’ll make them spring for fancy hotel rooms, and we can spend a few days pretendin’ we’re high rollers. We’ll make ’em take us to a fancy restaurant, and we can go to one of those clubs the movie stars get into.” She took a deep breath. “Think about it, Tate. What better way to—”
“Okay.”
Reilly flopped back, shocked. “What?”
“I said okay.”
“I know. But did you mean it?”
He reached for his juice. “Yeah.”
