I tell him, at the hotel the night before the wedding, that he could've gone to play with the boys. i don't mind working in our room with the TV on in the background alone.
"Yeah, but I didn't want to take a shot, i could have said 'no' but i want to go to bed soon," he tells me as he crosses to the window.
"We're old. We're one of those old married couples," I sigh.
"Yeah. A kid does that," he agrees. A pause, "Aw, look at that old married couple sitting on the bench."
"Yeah, come see."
And i do.
"He's making his move," he tells me.