"I think this went okay, don't you?" He murmured this to her temple. They were less dancing than just leaning against each other and swaying, the last people on the floor. She was barefoot.
"I think so," she agreed. "My dad even looks happy."
"Well, he's had three years to get used to me."
Her hair was pulled up at the sides, the rest falling down her back in waves, and he combed his fingers through it idly. She sighed. "Did I tell you you look nice today?" she asked.
He pulled back a little, and said, "Thank you. See? I told you I didn't need a tux."
"Yes, but you know I only caved on that because you agreed not to play with the band."
"Yeah, well, it's all about compromise, right?"
"So they say." She stroked his chest lightly. "Is this…?" She looked up at him, surprised.
He covered her henna-painted hand with his. "Yeah, well. I said I'd wear it to your next wedding."
She shook her head fondly. "Oh, Ray Barnett. You sentimental fool."
He held her tighter. The red and gold silk of her sari crinkled enticingly under his hands. "Can we go home now?" he whispered.
She laid her head against his shoulder, and smiled with her whole heart.
"I'm ready when you are."