“This seems like an awful way to spend an afternoon.” “Does that mean you want to leave?” I ask. “Because we totally can. I mean, I’m down. As long as you know it means we’re losing on walkover to all the other guests, half of whom are probably insufferable honeymooners.” “I hate you,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he means it at all. “Thanks, sweetie pie.” He frowns. “No.” “My lucky charm?” “Absolutely not.” “My honey nut,” I say, and then grimace. “No.” “Yes,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. “That one for sure. But why the cereal theme?” “Because they’re—” “Welcome everyone!”
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