* * * *
Dingdingdingdingdingdingding
Pat was hitting his glass with a spoon. Again. He kept saying he needed it as therapy for his broken arm.
“It’s not broken anymore,” Wills had growled at him the fiftieth time he’d done that. He’d actually had the cast removed about two months ago.
“Okay, then just consider it a good excuse for you to kiss Theo.”
Amused groans filled the dining room, and JR threw a roll at his friend. “They’re gonna get chapped lips.”
“Hey, you know they want to make out. I’m just giving them an excuse.”
I leaned toward my husband, pausing when my lips were just a breath away. “He really is the antichrist, isn’t he?”
Wills gave a spurt of laughter, and I chased it back into his mouth.
There was applause, and I drew back and smiled into his eyes. “Come on. Dance with me.” Not for the first time that night, the trio was playing “Isn’t It Romantic.”
“You talked me into it.”
“I thought I could.”
* * * *
Waiters were setting up the tables for the dessert course, but first the wedding cake. Wills had selected the five-tiered cake that would be brought out—chocolate ganache frosting on sponge cake flavored with orange zest, but on the top was a bride and groom dressed in the style of the ’30s; it wasn’t our wedding cake.
This was going to be such a surprise for Wills’s Gram and Gramps.
The M. C. looked toward Wills, and when he gave him the nod, he tapped the microphone and then leaned forward to speak into it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask Mr. and Mrs. Matheson to step onto the dance floor.” About a hundred couples began to stand, and he laughed. “Mr. William Matheson, and his lovely wife, Elaine.”
Wills’s grandparents exchanged puzzled looks, but he took her hand and led her into the center of the room.
Wills crossed the floor, stepped up onto the bandstand, and took the microphone from the M. C.
“Gram, Gramps, last month you celebrated your seventieth wedding anniversary, and God bless you both. We couldn’t be together then, but we’re here now. This is for you, from all of us, with love.”
I knew what was coming; I’d been in the room when he’d spoken to the trio and had rehearsed with them.
The keyboardist began the first notes, the drummer began to dust the cymbals, and then the bassist and Wills joined in, singing the opening line of “P. S. I Love You.”
This was their song, Wills had told me. His grandfather looked like he was going to cry. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, smiled mistily, and took Elaine into his arms.
In spite of their age, they moved gracefully across the floor. It was a sweet song, representative of the period when they’d married and started their family.
I sauntered over to the bandstand. Wills continued singing as he smiled into my eyes and reached a hand down to me. Lacing my fingers through his, I brought his hand to my mouth and once again brushed my lips against it.
“Come dance with me?”
He glanced at the bassist, who grinned. “I got it covered, man.”
“Thanks.” Wills handed the microphone to the M. C., stepped down, and pulled me into his arms. “Just for this dance,” he whispered in my ear, “I’m going to lead.”
* * * *
After Elaine and Bill had made the first slice into their cake, my husband and I took a couple of plates and made ourselves comfortable at their table.
“So where are you going on your honeymoon?”
“We know a little place in Key West.” Wills gave me a smile and took a bite of his cake. We’d had the best time there last year. This year it should be just as awesome, although I didn’t anticipate leaving our hotel room.
There was a bit of frosting at the corner of Wills’s mouth, and I brushed it off with my thumb. Normally I’d slip my finger into his mouth, but in front of his grandparents? I thought I’d better not. Wills laughed when I licked it off.
“Are you two going anywhere?”
“Home to bed,” Bill teased, and he offered a forkful of cake to Elaine.
“You saucy devil.” They were such a cute couple.
Wills leaned close and whispered, “You and me, babe, in seventy years.”
“I’ll be ninety-eight, babe.”
“Well, you’ve seen my Gramps. We Mathesons are very long-lived.”
“But I’m not a Matheson.”
“Let me put it this way. No matter how long you live, I intend to live one day less, so I never have to live without you.”
“Is that Winnie the Pooh?”
“Kind of.”
“You’re going to be the best dad.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Bill, Elaine, if you’ll excuse us a minute?”
I closed my hands on his shoulders, pulled him to his feet, and kissed him.
“Hey!” Pat yelled. “No one tapped a glass!
I raised my head and grinned at him. “I thought that was your job.”
“Um…yes?”
“Then get busy!”