Page 67 of A Really Bad Idea

“If I recall, you were the one who told me to go over to him.”

“He’s fit, his parents are part of the same country club as yours, and he summers in Boca. A handsome dentist from the Upper East Side. Your mother would be beside herself.”

“Wait until she finds out, I plan to get knocked up by a surgeon. She’ll faint.”

Christian laughs as he places the now-empty glass on the tray of a passing server. “Come on, crazy. We have a party to attend.”

We head toward our table that is set right on the dance floor. I take a seat in one of the gold Chiavari chairs and marvel at the fine china on the table. We’re seated with surgeons from Christian’s department. He introduces me to everyone, and we exchange pleasantries.

Christian is by far the youngest doctor at the table, yet he’s as distinguished and, in some cases, more accomplished. The men and women of the cardiothoracic unit are quick to talk about cases they’re working on, and the husbands and wives easily flow into their own conversations away from medical jargon. I find myself enchanted by Christian, listening in as he discusses a new technique he’s training to perform that could revolutionize the future of heart valve transplantation. I’m a heart nerd, and he is a damn good professor.

They serve our salads, and the opening ceremony starts, followed by speeches and a toast with a request for all of us to have a damn good time.

My back is to the table with my attention still toward the podium when Christian leans in and asks, “Now that we’ve done our part and appeared like respectable adults, what do you say we start drinking heavily?”

I giggle. “A man after my own heart. You get the drinks while I use the ladies’ room.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We walk away from the table and part ways as he goes toward the bar and I walk to the women’s restroom where I use the facilities and add lip gloss before tipping the attendant. I’m walking back to the ballroom when I see Natasha, Christian’s date from my birthday dinner, walking toward me.

“Natasha.” I smile with the greeting.

Last time I saw her, she was not the happiest with my friends, as they said Christian and I should have a baby together. Now, we actually are trying, so it makes it all the more awkward.

So, I say what any normal person would in this situation, “You are stunning.”

It’s true. She looks more like a model than a nurse in the cardiac care unit. Her hair is smooth as it falls straight to her chin. She’s wearing a deep purple chiffon dress that fishtails at the bottom, and her stiletto heels make her look statuesque tonight.

“Thank you. You look good, too.”

Okay, good is not quite the same as stunning, but I’ll take it.

“You’re here with Christian,” she states with that natural pout.

I’m not an idiot. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see she’s not thrilled with the fact that I’m Christian’s date tonight—and moreover, that she’s not. Still, I’m not one to kick someone when they’re down.

“We’re here as friends.”

She laughs with a closed mouth. “A man doesn’t introduce a woman as his Meadow without laying claim to his feelings about her.”

I don’t argue with her. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to pass on advice that I should have listened to when I started seeing him.”

“Advice?”

“You two are friends, so you have so much more to lose.” Her tone isn’t snide. It’s actually coming off as … concerned.

“It was nice to see you, but I don’t think—”

“When you go back inside, he’ll have two glasses of champagne in hand. You’ll sip them, and he’ll tell you how beautiful your eyes are. With him, it’s always the eyes.”

I drop my shoulders and listen because she wants to impart her wisdom on me.

She continues, “He’ll ask you to dance, and then he’ll excuse himself to talk to the maestro for a special request. Then, the band will play ‘The Way You Look Tonight,’ and you’ll be putty in his hands as he tells you how you made him feel the first time he saw you. He’ll ask if you want to skip out early, and you’ll follow because it’s impossible to say no to a man who looks as good as he does in a tuxedo.”

With a nod, I swallow and try to digest what she thinks is about to take place. “That is a very specific order of events you think is about to take place.”