“Yeah, they’re getting my work visa now. I’m glad you invited me tonight, so we can say goodbye,” she added, unable to interpret his faraway look.
“You happy?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m excited. It’ll be an adventure. Maybe a clean slate’s a good idea for me.” She looked down, struck that Phoenix was one impetus behind her escape.Will leaving the country be enough to heal the ache of what nearly was?
Servers took their plates and replaced them with chocolate Chambord cake that been cut earlier, during a kitschy interlude that included the requisite smearing of icing onto the groom’s face.
When the DJ invited guests to join in the dance, Phoenix looked down at Orchid, mouthful of chocolate cake nearly at her lips. “May I have the first dance?”
She took the bite, wiped her mouth, and nodded. “Absolutely.”
They weaved through the round tables to the dance floor, this wedding their last opportunity to be together.
Once they joined the crowd, the music picked up the pace from a slow song to percussion. Orchid couldn’t keep her feet from moving to the beat. She bopped to the rhythm until they found a spot in the increasingly full ballroom. Phoenix, always a bae, still had sexy moves. His style exuded much of his pre-accident sass and attitude. Orchid sensed other women checking out his physique. She threw her head back, staring openly with pride. He was a man not afraid to move his hips. Only because she’d seen him move before, she could detect the slightly more limited range.
“You’re a great dancer!” she shouted over the music.
“You too!” He smiled, a beautiful wide happy smile, and for a moment, they were meeting as if for the first time, all tension and drama dispersed.
“You need the men’s room?” he asked. She laughed.
The music switched tempo to a slow number and Phoenix paused, looking at her, hand outstretched. She joined him, pressed up close, wanting to be nowhere else.Screw how much this is going to hurt tomorrow.He kissed her hair.
“I’m all sweaty,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll have to dry clean that crazy dress.”
She buried her face into the side of his neck. “You smell great,” she said. “Would you bottle that for me, so I can have it with me always?”
He laughed. “Would you like a drink?”
“Yeah, a drink sounds really good.”
She took his hand and followed his lead as they weaved through the crowd of couples swaying to the music. “No wine,” she said.
“Okay, I know just the thing.”
He leaned in to speak to the bartender. “Patrón doubles. Bud chasers. Two.”
When the drinks arrived, he handed her one. “Pour vous.”
“Merci,” she said, taking the shot glass and putting a cool finger under each eye at the memory of their trip to France. It’d be a miracle if tears didn’t spill at some point this evening.
They clinked glasses and tossed back the shots. The liquid flowed hot and smooth down her throat. Better say goodbye drunk. That was a good idea.
“Paris was a beautiful trip,” she said, sinking into a bar stool to tip her beer bottle to his and take a long draw.
He sat next to her. “Yes, it was. You remember how much you loved that underground market?”
“We went two nights in a row.”
“No one believes us when we describe how unusual that place was.”
“Well, we know,” she said. Sadness gripped her chest at having just this one last night for reminiscing.
He put his bottle down and touched her under the chin. “You okay, hungry bird?”
He was killing her with his endearments, looking so handsome, and being so thoughtful. She wanted to remember everything with him before she left, even though seeing him was pummeling her gut from the inside.
