That answer would have surprised him several months ago, but Dex was doing a great job in cutting back on the sugary drinks, especially in the evenings. Sloane grabbed them a couple of bottled waters and placed them on the counter so he could serve himself. Once they’d both filled up their plates, they each grabbed their water, cutlery, and paper towels before heading into the living room. They sat on the couch, and Dex turned on the TV and flipped channels until he got to one of his favorite cop shows. It was the only one they watched, not for the realism, but because it was full of action, great banter, and Sloane agreed with Dex that the bromantic lead couple were pretty damn sexy.
As they ate and watched TV together, Sloane realized he was stupidly happy. After all the crazy they’d been through, they had six weeks off, three leading up to the wedding and three for their honeymoon. The thought made him smile like a dope.
“What’s got you all smiley?” Dex asked before chomping down on one of his potato wedges. Potatoes had not been renamed, as they were “awesome and tasty” and therefore not considered true vegetables in Dex’s book—unless Sloane was bugging him to eat more veggies, and then suddenly potatoes transformed into temporary vegetables. Sometimes living with Dex was like living with a Human jigsaw puzzle where all the pieces were the same color.
“Well?”
Sloane snapped out of it. “Oh. I was thinking about spending three weeks with you on the sandy beaches of Curaçao.”
Dex hummed. “You in an itsy bitsy teeny weenie yellow polka dot bikini.”
Sloane laughed. “Yeah, no.”
“You’re right. Mankini is more your style.”
“Mankini is no one’s style. Just no.”
“You know, they make tux mankinis with little bow ties. I think we should totally trade our tuxes in for those. What do you say? Walk down the aisle with me, bare assed.”
Sloane laughed around a mouthful of potato. “That’s just wrong. Besides, then we’d have to get turquoise and tangerine ones for the wedding party. Ash would make sure we never made it to the altar.” A thought occurred to him, and he had to swallow before he choked on his laughter.
“What?” Dex asked.
“I dare you to call up Lou and tell him we’re switching our tuxes to tux mankinis.”
Dex let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my God, yes!” He put his plate on the coffee table and swiped up his phone to call Lou. Within seconds, Lou picked up. “Hey, Lou. Yeah, everything’s great. Listen, so I was thinking about our tuxes for the ceremony, and we thought maybe we’d go for something a little more… creative.”
Sloane put a fist to his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh. He could just see Lou’s face. The poor guy.
“Yeah, we were thinking of, you know, being a little different, and figured why not just go for it? So we decided to go with tux mankinis.”
Sloane waited.
“What’s a mankini?” Dex’s lips twitched, and Sloane could tell he was trying desperately not to burst. “Why don’t you google it. I can wait.” Dex winked at Sloane when a roar of expletives in both Spanish and English came blasting through the phone. They couldn’t hold it any longer and busted into peals of laughter.
“But, Lou, it’d still be classy. They got little bow ties, and—I only understood the word saints. Lou, are you blaspheming right now? Think of your poor abuelita.” Dex quickly moved the phone away from his ear. “Oh, he really didn’t like that.” With a chuckle, he held the phone out to Sloane. “He said your name.”
Sloane shook his head. “No way. He still wants to smother me in my sleep over the color scheme incident.” Dex waved the phone at him, and with a groan Sloane took it. “Hi, Lou.”
“Sloane,” Lou said through gritted teeth. “If your fiancé so much as hints to any ridiculous changes, I’ll be forced to do the unthinkable.”
“And what’s that?”
“I will send my mother to your house.”
Having dealt with few mothers in his lifetime, Sloane wasn’t exactly sure how that was a threat. Dex arched an eyebrow at Sloane, and Sloane shrugged. “He said he’s going to send his mother to our house.”
Dex’s eyes went so wide Sloane thought they were going to pop out of his head. Before Sloane could say a word, Dex dove for the phone and snatched it out of Sloane’s hand.
“Lou, hey. Let’s not be too hasty now. I was just kidding. Of course, I wouldn’t do such a thing. I’ll be on my best behavior. At least until the reception. I promise. Please, please don’t send your mom to our house. Pinky swear. Cross my heart. Do you need me to put it in writing? Sign something? A contract? I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just don’t tell your mom!”
Sloane went back to finishing his dinner, amused by Dex’s panicked look. Was Dex really afraid of Lou’s mom? How bad could she be? After promising profusely that he wouldn’t cause Lou any more near heart attacks, Dex hung up.
“Okay. Crisis averted.”
Sloane laughed and placed his plate on the coffee table. “You should have seen your face. You’re really scared of Lou’s mom?”
Dex turned to face Sloane. “You have no idea of the horror. Lou’s dad is Dominican and a chef. Oh my God, his food is to die for. That’s where Lou got his love of good food. Lou’s mom is Cuban. She also makes awesome food, but I swear to you, Sloane, I have never, ever faced a more terrifying adversary.”