She hands me her glass of wine and then takes off for her bedroom.
Chloe Ann sidles up to me. “Made her cry, huh?”
I grin at her. “Wasn’t trying to.”
“Did you cry at your wedding? I can’t remember.”
I nod. “Oh yes. Big time. You did too.”
“Oh I did not.”
“Yes you did. You were tired and cranky and wanted to go home.”
“That doesn’t count, Vera.”
I shrug. “You still did it.”
Ruby comes back out of her room, lipstick in hand, her emotions back under control. She puts the lipstick on me, then does the same to Chloe Ann. Then she does the same to the rest of the ladies.
Then the drinking games begin.
Mateo
Vera and I wake up hungover.
Even though she says the girls did nothing but sit around the house, when we got back from our party, the place was absolutely littered with wine and champagne bottles. Vera, Ruby’s Finnish friend Elena, Marco’s wife Ines, and Benedito’s wife Teresa were all up, dancing around and being hilariously belligerent, drinking straight from the bottle.
Luckily, the rest of the women had some sense. Ruby barely had anything to drink since she didn’t want a hangover on her wedding, and Thalia stayed true to her role as mama hen and stayed relatively sober to take care of David Roberto, Chloe Ann, and baby Alice. They were all fast asleep when we came home.
Of course, I was no angel either. When the boat docked back in the harbor before it got dark, we stayed there for another few hours, drinking more and more. Lying here, my head pounding, my mouth feeling stuffed with cotton balls, my heart goes out to Luciano. I can only hope he had the sense to pull back, unlike the rest of us. I remember Alejo trying to get him drunk, but I’m not sure he succeeded.
“Oh my god,” Vera says, slowly rolling over beside me in the bed in the guest cottage. “I’m dying.”
“Me too,” I tell her. “Me too.”
“How are we going to survive this wedding?” she moans, covering her face with her hands. “Why did I do that to myself?”
“Well, my Estrella,” I tell her, carefully turning over as to not disturb the fine balance in my brain. “The two of us haven’t partied in a long time. And with good reason. I am too old for this shit.”
“I think I am too.”
I laugh, even though it pains me. “You’re thirty-one. You’ve just gotten over the cusp where a hangover will follow you around all day and for less effort. Enjoy this while you can.”
She just moans in response.
Eventually I get up, use the toilet, then stagger into the kitchen where I find Alejo and Thalia already up, eating Nutella and toast, drinking coffee.
“Coffee,” I mumble like a zombie, heading over to the French Press. I pour myself a cup and then lean back against the counter and look them over.
The two of them look wide-awake and ridiculously good-looking.
“What is going on?” I say, my accusatory glare focused on Alejo. “I know how much you drank. You drank more than I did. Why do you look like you’ve aged backward?”
Alejo shrugs, giving me a shit-eating grin. “I don’t know, Mateo. Maybe because I’m twenty-seven and you’re old as hell.”
“You forget, I’m your coach. I could punish you for such things.”
“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Thalia says with a roll of her eyes. “I have one glass of wine now and I pay for it all day. This man, he drinks like a fish and he turns into Superman.”
Alejo is still grinning. “Hey, I can’t help the way I am.”
“I only had one glass last night and I still feel a bit groggy,” she says with a yawn. “David Roberto was up most of the night too. Thank god he’s sleeping now. He didn’t disturb you?”
“Not even a little,” I tell her, taking a satisfying sip of my coffee. Ah. Maybe this is the answer. “Then again, I was passed out.”
“And how is Vera?” she asks, smirking over her mug.
“Awful!” Vera yells, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “She’s awful, thanks for asking.”
My wife does look a little like death warmed over, so is it strange that she also looks incredibly hot, in just her disheveled sleepshirt, no bra, nipples poking through. Shit, I think this is turning me on. Must focus on something else.
Ah yes, my awful headache. That will do.
Thalia laughs. “I told you not to drink the champagne after the red wine, didn’t I? Don’t you know that nothing good comes of it?”
I smile. Thalia is one of my favorite people, a woman I really respect and admire. Vera respects and admires her too, so it’s amusing to me when Thalia takes on the mother role with her. She’s closer in age to me than she is to Vera, or even her husband, and she plays the part well.
Vera makes a face at her and then stumbles over to the coffee. “This will be the real test,” she says, pouring the last of it in a mug. “If I can drink this, then I know I’ll survive the day. If I’m too sick for coffee, all hope is lost.”
She takes a sip and we all wait for her verdict.
She manages a small smile, eyes squinty with pleasure. “It’s good.”
“Good,” Thalia says, getting up. “Because we need to start getting ready for the day.”
“The ceremony isn’t until three,” Vera says.
“I know, but we’re like defacto bridesmaids here. We have to help her. Don’t remember all the work that went into the day of your wedding?”
Vera nods. “Got it. Let me just shower and see what happens after that.”
Things are a little easier for Alejo and I. We’re not the groomsmen since Luciano decided it was easier not to have any, but I’m sure he’s going to need us to help with something. At least whatever it is won’t be as complicated as getting a bride ready.
The day progresses fairly quickly, at any rate. We don’t get changed into
