Page 82 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

We step aside as she rolls a small cart of folded stacked chairs past. She thanks him and carries on with her hotel duties.

“We will continue this conversation later, okay?” Nathan says as we step into the ballroom hand in hand.

I nod in agreement, right before the smile slips from my face. I pause in my tracks because I’m having a hard time breathing at the sight and sounds unfolding before me.

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jeanie

Crash Course

A hollow pain creeps across my chest as Roman and Sophia slow dance at the center of the ballroom. But it’s not Roman’s unfortunate dance moves that make me grimace. It’s the music pouring out of the sound system.

Playing for everyone to hear is our wedding song by a popular boy band from years ago.

What the heck is this?

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asks when he registers my expression.

Tears well in my eyes despite my efforts to hold it together. Memories of our wedding day ricochet through my mind. I might not have been as sleek as Sophia in my bead-encrusted puffy sleeves or tornado of white tulle fabric, but I was a happy bride. Roman and I were both happy.

One of the singers croons about how he’ll love and cherish his bride for the rest of his life. Roman sang those lyrics to me as we danced our first dance. So much for loving me forever. The pain Nathan has helped me stuff away resurfaces like a dangerous sunburn.

“We don’t have to do this. We can leave. I was serious about Australia.” Nathan gathers me into an embrace like he’s trying to save me from being caught in the ruthless undertow of my divorce depression. I’ve discovered, it’s a wave that comes and goes.

But when will it ebb?

I hold Nathan tighter than I ever have, using him as a flotation device, willing our connection to keep me from drowning. This is only a hiccup on the bumpy road to recovery. Even if all my self-assurances are true, hearing this song makes me shaky.

With my chin hooked over Nathan’s shoulder, I regard Roman and Sophia. They haven’t noticed us yet. In their private moment, they’re laughing and giddy.

When I arrived in Miami Beach to break up their wedding, I was in denial and angry. Now I’m sad, like I’m going through the stages of grief. My heart is heavy.

“Thank goodness you guys made it!” Sophia says over the music when she spots us.

She crosses to join our hug, completely clueless about what’s happening. I gather myself and give Nathan a look I hope he understands. I can do this.

He kisses my cheek and whispers, “We’ve got this.”

How can Nathan stand by me as I go through the motions of my divorce death? How can he be so encouraging and understanding when we’ve only truly known each other a few days?

He’s so amazing, it underscores that my chances of surviving him are slim. Not that I’m a bad person—okay, I’m a little bad—but there are better choices, other women who are not only in the same stage of life as he is, but less damaged than me. I’m damaged.

Sophia unwinds herself from our group hug. “You’re so perfect together, I can’t stand it.”

She’s the kind of person who tries to only see the good. I admire her for it. She’s lucky to be so optimistic.

On the flip side, Roman keeps his distance. He appears angry, but then I remember why. I tackled him into a pool yesterday while hotel guests watched. He’ll hold a grudge about it forever.

Nathan wraps a protective arm around my back as we step deeper into the ballroom. Because he knows I want to get this over fast, he immediately begins a crash course in ballroom dancing.

Even though I’ve never done this before, Nathan and I demonstrate a simple dance. He’s an excellent lead, guiding me through the steps. The dance is elegant with moves that will show off Sophia in her beautiful dress. It ends with a crowd-pleasing spin and a dip. Nathan promises applause and cheers.

When Roman and Sophia try the dance, their good moods unravel. Roman is uncomfortable, tripping over his own feet, which makes him crankier. Though Sophia can dance, her rhythm is slightly off. It’s not long before they bicker about who’s responsible for messing up.

To hasten things along, Nathan attempts to dance with Roman in place of Sophia. Predictably, things turn tense. When Roman bats Nathan’s hand away from his shoulder, I jump from my seat where I’ve been studying the three.

“I’ll dance with Roman,” I say as I wave off Nathan. You dance with Sophia.”