Marcus Melbourne resembles an accountant the same way Christian Wolff does: they’re both smart, quiet, and have the ability to move in a way that feels dangerous, even if you don’t know why. He has been a favorite client at the restaurant for years. “Missing your penne a la vodka.” He looks at my dress and smiles. “Here for a party?”
“A wedding,” I say. “Marcus, this is Wade Clifford, a friend and restaurant owner from North Dakota. Wade, let me introduce Marcus Melbourne, investor and pasta connoisseur. He was a regular at Martinique when he lived in Chicago.” I turn to Marcus. “I think you’re in Los Angeles now, aren’t you?”
“Most of the time. Like you, though, I’m on vacation at the moment. I’m here for a wedding celebration too. My parents’ fortieth anniversary.”
I look around his table and see a family resemblance among the three other brown haired, blue eyed men sitting with the senior couple. “How lovely! What an accomplishment.”
“They raised four boys. You have no idea,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll let you get seated. Good to see that you’re doing well, Melissa.”
“You too, Marcus.”
I jump a little when Wade puts his hand on my back to guide me to our table. “He’s an investor? Did you invest with him?”
“No, but he did give me a couple of stock tips in exchange for my penne a la vodka recipe.”
We finally arrive at our table, where Joanie is already seated in a clingy, floor-length ivory gown, and Josh is beside her in a sleek black suit. Tammy Depp and Michael Reyes, in anappropriate gown and suit, round out the original bridal party with their respective partners also in attendance. “Hey, hey, the gang’s all here,” Michael says in greeting.
“The party may now begin,” I intone seriously. That lasts all of a second before everybody starts laughing. The six of them already look three sheets to the wind. Wade and I have some catching up to do.
The waiter can’t keep pace with our drink orders. The food mitigates our consumption, but only partially. By the time dessert rolls around, I’m pretty sure that the deck is stable and I’m the one who's weaving on my feet. I don’t care. It’s the first time since my divorce that I’ve had the opportunity to really cut loose. I’m among friends; they will dump me in my room and lock the door behind them if I get too shitfaced. But I’m not there yet. I’ve hit utterly happy, on the verge of telling everybody how much I love them. It’s the perfect level of tipsy to maintain for a vow renewal.
I allow myself another half a glass of champagne before I cut myself off. It’s for everybody’s safety. Especially mine. I don’t need to drool across the table at Wade. He’s always been hot. I would have hit on him the first time we met but Joanie had warned me that he had a serious girlfriend. That same weekend, I saw him in dress whites standing beside Josh at the front of the church. I didn’t stand a chance. The sight of him seared itself forever into my brain.
Now that Bob is out of the picture, I’m free but I don’t know if Wade is seeing anybody. I need to find a minute to ask Joanie about him. Even after a bottle of bubbly, I know that I can’t make a move until I find out if he’s single.
The waiter refills our champagne flutes and that last half glass goes down much too easily. A realization hits me: we aren’t in grade school. I don’t need to pass a note to Joanie to see if Wade is a free agent. I can ask him myself.
I lean my elbow on the table and prop my chin on my hand. I wait for a pause in the conversation between Wade and Josh. Then I make my move. “So, Wade, you know about Bob. What about Ashley? Wasn’t she able to get time off?” I’m pretty sure I have the name of his last known girlfriend correct.
“Ashley? That ended years ago. I’m not seeing anybody right now.”
“Excellent!”
“I think you mean “I’m sorry to hear that?”, don’t you, Trouble?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I don’t, Wade.”
CHAPTER 2
DUCK
I shake my head.Melissa Prescott may be the only person left on the planet who calls me Wade and not Duck. The irony slays me. Her question, though, is beyond amusing. “Why is that excellent, Melissa? What do you intend to do with that information?”
“Are you kidding? For the first time since we’ve met, we’re both single at the same time. I intend to flirt my ass off.”
“It is a good looking ass,” I agree. Melissa wears the mid-western look well. Brown hair, brown eyes, a tan that comes from being outdoors rather than a tanning bed. She has enough curves to make holding onto her a pleasure rather than an exercise in avoiding angles like she’s a pointy, plastic Barbie doll. Her dress tonight isn’t doing her any favors, but it’s not stopping her from being a ten out of ten either.
“See, it’s already working!”
Tipsy Mel is a blast. I’m still stunned that her fucking moron of an ex-husband cheated on her. I asked Josh for the details when the women left to visit the ladies’ room together. I haven’t met Bob’s new woman, but I know he wasn’t trading up. Mel is as good as it gets. And not just physically. Bob had a smart, funny, hard-working gorgeous woman who could cook. He is anidiot. “I’ve known you for twenty years, Melissa. I’m not blind. But like you said, we’ve never been single at the same time.”
“What are we going to do about this, Wade?”
“Right now, we’re going to have another drink.”
Melissa puts her hand over her glass. “Thank you, but I’m in a perfect place right now. I’m exactly where I should be for the ceremony. A little more will ruin it.”
While I love being around her when she’s hit too much, the lady said no, so I empty the bottle into Joanie’s glass, and the party continues. The eight of us finish our desserts with stories about the last two decades flying across the table.
