“Mom's gonna cry.”
“Shut up.”
“She's so gonna cry.”
“Shut—”
“And then Mom's gonna threaten to kill you if you screw this up.”
“Ego!”
Remy laughs.
“I already like this girl.”
“You haven't even met her.”
“Doesn't matter. Any woman who got Montego talking about marriage deserves a medal.”
Noel pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Can we get back to the organized crime before Romeo starts writing poetry?”
“Fuck you.”
“See?” Ego says. “He's glowing.”
“Ego,” Nico warns.
“Sorry, boss.”
No, he's not.
Not even a little.
“Okay,” Noel says. “Back to business.”
I'm still standing there like an idiot.
Ego's still smirking.
And honestly?
I don't care.
Because I'm really gonna do it.
I’m gonna marry Mary Donahue.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But someday.
And the thought doesn't scare me.
It makes me stupid happy.