From the bandstand, a loud, single note rose from every instrument and hovered over the reception. “Ladies and gentlemen.” The band leader stepped up to the mike. “Please welcome your bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Dylan Stux.”
The music exploded over the guests’ applause as Violet floated on her husband’s arm under a vanguard of white lights.
Dylan twirled her onto the dance floor as the band began a classic standard, “It Had to Be You.” The female singer with a Marilyn Monroe figure wore a tight, black gown.
“You know, Chloe,” Stella whispered, “you will never move on if you compare every man to Chris Painter, Clark Davis, Finley Farmer, and that wretched Haden Stuart.”
Chloe faced her friend. “I don’t.”
Okay, yes, she did. Sorta. But she was trying to put them behind her. Praying. Seeking a better way.
“First you were the ‘it’ couple with Chris,” Stella said, holding up one finger.
“Ten years ago.”
“Followed by the press and paparazzi. Idyllic teens leading idyllic teens.”
On the dance floor, Violet settled her head on Dylan’s shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair. Chloe felt his tenderness and yearned.
“Then there was Clark.” Stella’s second finger popped up. “The cheater. How many times did he cheat on you?”
“Is there a reason we’re rehashing my love life?”
“After Clark came Finley.” She flashed the three fingers in front of Chloe. “Great guy, but oh so in love with his ex.”
“They’re happily married now. I’m thrilled for them.”
“Which leads us to Haden. Fourth, final, and fatal. He crushed you, that wicked soul.”
“Oh, look, Ted’s waving to you.” Chloe shoved her friend forward. She did not need a reminder, on this lovely night, of her abysmal failures at love.
From the bandstand: “Violet and Dylan invite the bridal party to join them for this next dance.”
“Come on.” Stella reached for Chloe, but she withdrew.
“I can’t. My groomsman is dancing with his girlfriend. Go. Ted is waiting.”
Chloe retreated to the bridal party table. She needed a hit of Diet Coke to fortify her after Stella’s trip down ugly love-life lane.
Across the dance floor, on the opposite side of the courtyard, Chloe saw her parents sitting together with her sister, Kate, and Kate’s boyfriend, Rob.
Dad caught her eye, smiled, and waved.
He was one good man in her life. And Smitty. She barely knew him, but she was grateful he walked into her life with a word of hope.
“Can I have this dance?” Jesse appeared, bowing toward her, offering a thick, broad hand.
“S-sure.” As she slipped her hand into his, a small flutter released in her chest and she instantly liked him. “I warn you, I’m a toe stepper.”
“Good thing I’m not, since you’re the one without shoes.” Jesse collected her in his arms and moved her gently to the music.
“The heel broke.”
“Hate when that happens.”
He moved with ease. Chloe peered up at him. “You’re a good dancer.”
“Thank you, Miss Irene’s Ballroom Dance School in Boston.”
