“Alfie, don’t,” She laughed, playfully swatting at him, and smiling at their reflections in the mirror over the dresser. “If you start that then I’ll stop getting ready—and if I stop getting ready then we will never get to your sister’s rehearsal dinner.”
“Well, if I remember correctly, my sister didn’t come to our rehearsal dinner because she was feeling up one of the waiters in a closet somewhere,” Alfie grinned, dipping his head to the crease between her neck and shoulder, kissing her gently. “I say she’s lucky if we show up at all.”
“Alfred Hanes, you are the older brother, and thirty one years old. You cannot use your then twenty one year old sister’s actions as a life plan.”
“Aw, but I wanted to.” Alife groaned, setting his chin down on his wife’s bare shoulder.
“You just don’t want to talk to your Uncle Andrew.” Their eyes met in the mirror, and Alfie knew better than to try to deny it.
“Can’t it be that I don’t want to talk to Uncle Andrew and I really want to have sex with my lovely wife?”
She rolled her eyes at that. “Of course it is. But we still need to go to your sister’s rehearsal.” She patted him lovingly on the head. “Go get your tie. If you behave—I’ll get sick an hour early, and you can rush me home like the loving husband you are.”
Alfie smiled in the mirror and perked up a little. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”