“Married and broke,” I repeated, and we both laughed.
People noticed us. It’s hard not to notice a bride eating a cheeseburger. A couple at the next table told us congratulations and wished us a long, happy life. A man in an orange work vest stopped on his way out and clapped Enzo on the shoulder like they’d known each other for years.
Enzo lifted his milkshake.
“To my beautiful wife.”
I touched my cup to his. “I’ve never been happier,” I said, and I meant every word.
A few minutes later, an older woman stopped beside our table.
She didn’t look like she belonged there. Navy wool coat, pearl earrings, silver hair pinned perfectly in place. She smiled at me warmly, but she spoke almost entirely to me. Her face stayed turned toward the window, as if she didn’t want Enzo to look at her too closely.
“Congratulations, my dear,” she said. “You make a lovely bride.”
“Thank you,” I said, a little thrown.
And then she was gone, out the door and into the parking lot.
