He winced, hearing this, basically answering the question. “I wouldn’t know. We broke up a couple of weeks ago.”
“What?” I said, shocked. He winced again. Whoops. “I’m... God, I’m sorry. You guys were so... wow. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Thanks. It was her decision. Last summer before college, wanting to make a fresh start at UC Berkeley, blah blah. I should have seen it coming.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Me neither. I’m basically gutted.” He sighed, looking down at his card. “Anyway. It’s great to see you. Especially without having old Partone droning on about global implications in front of us.”
“He did love the big consequences,” I agreed, as two women entered the gazebo. “Have fun tonight.”
At this, he made a face, then smiled as he started across the lawn to his table. Halfway there, he turned back and glanced at me, looking away quickly when he saw I was still watching him.
“Wait, what is this? The tables? How do we know which number we are?”
I sighed inwardly, then turned around to help the two women. One point to Mrs. Lin. No matter the issue, there was always an ongoing tally, somehow.
The end of a rehearsal dinner is different from that of a wedding. Even if it’s late, there’s still that sense of anticipation and excitement, the big event still ahead. That is, if you’re a guest. When you’re working, it’s one down, one to go.
“You’re sure? You won’t get upset?”
I gave Ambrose an apologetic look, knowing I deserved this. “No. And I shouldn’t have earlier. I’m just super grumpy, for some reason. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. Then, as I watched, he briefly closed his eyes, blowing out the pillar between us. I wondered what he wished for. I’d never ask, though. “I didn’t realize Leo was such a bust as a date.”
“He wasn’t,” I told him, blowing out the next candle. “It’s me.”
“Lauren seems to think otherwise.”
“You talked to Lauren about this?”
“Well, yeah,” he said. He glanced at me. “You weren’t yourself, and Leo is her best friend. I figured she’d have insight.”
I suppose I deserved this, too, but it was harder to take somehow. “Did she?”
“She said,” he replied, moving to the next table, “that he is great if you’ve known him forever, like she has, but that in college he’s become a bit...”
I waited, curious about exactly what adjective would follow. This was not a case when you filled it in.
“...insufferable,” he finished. He blew out another candle. “She blames his writing professor and hopes it’s just a phase. But she understood he probably isn’t the best boyfriend material right now.”
“Good thing I’m not the one who has to stick in the long-term relationship,” I commented.
“Oh, I’ve got you beat, no question,” he replied. “Lauren will make it easy.”
After all the whistling, humming, bouncy steps, and general good cheer, the fact he felt this way shouldn’t have been any kind of surprise to me. But hearing it, for whatever reason, was still difficult. I had a flash of him standing behind me, cutting that cake, then quickly pushed it away. “She seems great,” I said.
“She’s awesome.” He moved over to the next table. “Don’t feel bad, it was just a super stroke of luck she showed up when she did that night.”
“I’m still in this,” I reminded him. “All I have to do is date a bunch of people once, and I’m doing that.”
“True, true,” he agreed. Out on the street, someone zoomed past, tires squealing. I could only hope it wasn’t one of the valets. “So you’re saying you have another prospect already lined up?”
“I’m working on it,” I said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, if thinking counted as working. What I’d actually been mulling, a bit worriedly, was that if Jilly was so into Michael Salem, I’d be losing the one person who was happy to set me up repeatedly. Unless he had a friend. Or, um, lots of friends.
“Well, good,” Ambrose said. “It’s no fun if we can’t keep it interesting.”
“Don’t worry about that. You just focus on you,” I said, walking over to another table and bending over the row of small votives there to blow them out. Once done, I looked up to see him staring at me. “What?”
