Page 6 of All for Love

She didn’t look at me. Didn’t move a muscle, but somehow, I felt the disdain pouring off her right now. “You should be happy that it all went according to plan.”

“I am, but it’s over now. We can all move on with our lives.”

Her eyes rolled, but that was kind of her default setting when she was around me. “I suppose it’s just too much to ask for you to be happy for your father and that everything we worked so hard for went so well.”

“Of course, I’m happy for him, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep talking about floral arrangements, table settings, invitation fonts, and seating charts for the rest of my life.”

“I’m not suggesting you talk about it for the rest of your life. The wedding was today. We just left the venue. There’s no harm in discussing how it went just once now that it’s over.”

“What’s the point?” I was genuinely confused. “We could dissect every minute and it would still be over. It’s done. In the past. I’m happy for them. It went well, and that’s all there is to it.”

She let out a heavy sigh and then finally turned away from the window to glare at me. “Are you always this difficult?”

“I’m not difficult. I’m pragmatic. The wedding is over, isn’t it? Why spend hours talking about something that happened in the past?”

“Because we organized it,” she practically growled.

Clearly, I was getting to her with this. I honestly wasn’t trying to, but I also happened to enjoy riling her up. It was just so damn easy sometimes. “Yeah, we organized it and it went well. Teamwork makes the dream work. What else do you want me to say?”

“How about commenting on the fact that the seating chart was perfect? We didn’t have a single awkward incident.”

“We also didn’t really have any people who would’ve had awkward incidents.”

“Of course, we did. My mother’s old coworker and my oldest cousin once had a thing, for example. They didn’t have an awkward run-in. That’s a win, and it’s something to celebrate.”

“All we’ve done today is celebrate,” I said. “Do we have to keep celebrating the wedding?”

“Why do you hate weddings so much?” she asked as we pulled up to the curb in front of her place. “Or do you just hate this wedding? Is that it, you don’t actually support their marriage?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” We climbed out of the car, the conversation never skipping a beat as I walked her to her front door. “I do support their marriage. Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve put into wedding planning for them? This isn’t about their marriage. It’s about weddings in general.”

“What’s wrong with weddings? I love weddings.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Why? I detest them. All that hard work for six hours of dancing and drinking. If I want to dance and drink, I can walk out my front door and head to a club. I don’t need to drag everyone in my life into an endless debate about what I’m going to be wearing when I do it.”

“You’re crass.”

I shook my head. “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

“I’d rather be that than a sour old fart at the ripe old age of forty-two,” she teased, waggling her eyebrows as she turned to face me once we reached her door.

“Thirty,” I growled.

She shrugged, sending me an infuriating little know-it-all smirk. “Semantics.”

“No, it’s not semantics. Semantics is debating the pros and cons of daisy versus gerbera for six weeks straight.”

Her eyes flew wide open. “It was not six weeks, and those are details, not semantics. The devil is in the details, you know? Attention to detail was what made today perfect.”

“The bride and groom both showing up and going through with it is what makes a wedding day perfect. You don’t need daisies or gerberas to say I do.”

“What would you know about it?” she fired back. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your whole entire body.

“Aren’t we just firing shots left and right tonight, huh? Here a zinger for ya. Plenty of people elope. No clipboards or checklists required. If people want to be happy together, they can do it without spending a fortune or planning the day down to the last second.”

Her head jerked back. “If you fail to plan, you’re planning to fail. Benjamin freaking Franklin said that, Kody. You ever heard of him? Oh wait, of course you have because his face is on your fucking money. And that’s important to you, right? Your money? Only, his face is there for a reason. He was no idiot.”

“I care about a lot of things other than money,” I retorted. “I’m also not an idiot. What do you even know about me?”