Alien in the Family

for a moment. I took a fast look—Martini was trying not to lose it.
    Christopher opened his eyes. “Jeff, I’ve told this to Kitty, but I don’t think I’ve ever been man enough to say it to you. You’re more than my cousin, more than a brother, even. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and many times a better friend than I deserved, and . . . I love you.”
    People were sobbing. I was teary. Martini was really trying not to lose it. So was Christopher. He took a deep breath. “She’s the greatest girl, Jeff, and you’re perfect with her and for her. You make each other better, and you make other people better, me especially, because of how you are together. And if anyone was going to come along and force me to share you, I thank God every day it was Kitty.”
    I joined the rest of the audience and started sobbing. Martini got up and hugged Christopher. I knew they were both shedding the manly tears while I was busy wiping my eyes on the tablecloth. They separated, and Martini pulled me up and we did the group hug thing that was so popular among the A-Cs. I heard more sobs.
    “You two are just a couple of softies, you know that.”
    They both laughed and kissed my cheeks, at the same time. More unison stuff. I didn’t mind this kind of unison at all, though.
    No one wanted to follow Christopher’s act, so we were mercifully done with the toasts. Next up was the cake, which we did have. I had no idea if Reader had already ordered it or if Pierre had come through again, but either way, it was great—chocolate with white buttercream frosting. No figurines on it, just the symbol for eternity on top. It was a real piece of artwork, not food. Apparently an A-C custom—we would keep it somewhere in our home at all times. I thought it was romantic. I was getting big on the romantic feelings.
    Cut the cake, Jeff (ha!) did not do the smash it in the face thing, further proof I’d picked the right guy. Then it was time for the first dance.
    We had a deejay and a karaoke machine. I had reservations about the karaoke but decided not to worry until I had to. The deejay looked familiar. I got closer. “Pierre?”
    “MC Peterman here, darling. Oooh, is this our lucky groom? It was hard to get a clear view while you two were practicing for the Boston Marathon.”
    “Yes. Jeff, this is Pierre, uh, Peter, uh, the Peterman. My hairdresser from today. And the guy who found the people to do my veil and get the flowers and probably other things James needed.”
    “Like a decent deejay, darling.”
    Martini—Jeff—stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    “Kitty, darling, I understand why you’re hanging your hat with this one. Charmed, Jeff. I’d shake, but I must keep the tunes going. Darlings, did we have a special ‘our song’ for the first dance?”
    We looked at each other. “Uh, no.”
    “Leaving that one to Jimmy too, were we?”
    “No, just didn’t think about it. It’s been kind of whirlwind.”
    Martini got a funny look on his face. He let go of my hand and walked around the equipment to whisper something in Pierre’s ear. “Oooh, darling, are you sure?” Martini whispered again. “Ahhh . . . no, darling, no more explanations needed. I’m sure our darling girl will swoon.”
    Martini led me to the dance floor. Reader had the mike and was doing the usual emcee stuff to get everyone around to watch us dance. The music started, and it was a song I knew well also—“Angel” by Aerosmith.
    Martini pulled me into his arms and led me in a slow dance that worked well with the song’s rhythm. I didn’t know the dance, but it didn’t matter—I had no problem following his lead, and all I wanted was to be in his arms, anyway. My throat was tight again. “You are my angel,” he whispered to me. “I promise I’ll never let my jealousy keep us unhappy and apart, even for an hour. And I want you to know—every word of this song is how I feel about you.” Pierre called that right—I did almost swoon.
    All things end, and awesome rock songs sooner than you want them to. The music died away.
    Reader was back on the mike. “Normally we’d do the parents’ dance right now, but we like to mess it up around here. So I thought we’d play our team’s official song.” I looked at him, hoping he caught my WTF expression. Then “Keepin’ it Gangsta” by Fabolous and a bunch of other rappers came on. I started to howl.
    “I don’t get this song,” Martini said within three