Harper grins. “Jealous?”
“More like nauseous.” But she’s smiling. She raises her glass. “To my best friend, who somehow convinced this uptight robot to loosen the fuck up.”
“I’m right here,” I point out.
“I know. That makes it more fun for me.” She takes a sip and her expression softens. “But for real, Harper. I’m happy for you. For both of you.”
Harper’s eyes go glassy. “Don’t make me cry again.”
“Too late.” Ximena pulls her into a hug. “Love you, bitch.”
“Love you too.”
When they pull apart, Ximena looks at me. “Take care of her, Graham.”
“Always.”
“Good answer.” She clinks her glass against mine, then Harper’s. “Now I’m gonna go dance with that hot groomsman. What’s his name again?”
“Marcus.”
“Right. Marcus.” She grins wickedly and disappears into the crowd.
Harper leans into me. “She likes you, you know.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“No, really. She told me last week you’re ‘surprisingly tolerable.’ That’s basically a declaration of love from Ximena.”
I smile against her hair. “I’m glad she’s in your corner.”
“Me too.”
“Happy?” I murmur during our first dance.
“So happy it scares me.”
“Me too.”
She leans into me, and we sway even though the song is upbeat. Just holding each other.
“I love you, husband,” she says.
“I love you too, wife.”
Later—muchlater—after most people have left and the sun is setting and Bruiser is asleep on a blanket on the grass, Harper and I collapse into chairs.
“Tired?” I ask.
“Exhausted.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Best day of my life.”
“Mine too.”
We sit in the quiet, watching the string lights twinkle overhead. Bruiser stirs, mumbles something in his sleep.
“We should get him to bed,” Harper says.
“In a minute.”