“That’s him,” her nasally voice said. Her purse was the size of a large diaper bag, and I wanted to dig through it to see what things she needed so badly that she had to carry them around with her at all times, like a damn gypsy.
I’d found some balls and came down early, hoping to get whatever awkward thing had to be done with Cord out of the way, before the party really got started. Plus, after the long day and with my nerves being shot, I needed a damn cocktail.
I’d seen him flirt with the hotel chick the night before. I’d gotten the message, loud and clear, that he wanted to talk and make sure I knew things were—how do they say—going too fast for him? Or he just wasn’t into me that way? Or he wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship?
Whatever the excuse he planned on giving me, all I heard was, this was the end.
I hated the reality of it, but I wasn’t going to make it any more difficult for him or myself. I had to accept it—and rum would help.
Which led to how I was talking to this Bridget chick who worked with Reuben.
“Where?” I crooked my neck to get a look at the guy she was hung up on, who she knew was going to be there.
“The tall one,” she whispered and started looking through her gigantic bag. “We dated a while. Then he told me he was looking for something else, but he’s so damn good in bed that I don’t even care anymore. I’m going to hook up with him anyway.”
Then I saw him, and fuck if the truth didn’t hurt. The tallest man in the room was good in bed, and I was one of them now. One of the sad women who knew what it was like to be with him.
And, shitty as it was, I’d soon know what it was like to be without him too.
Before I knew it, she’d spun me away, her arm slung over my shoulder, and she sang, “Let’s get a selfie.”
I attempted a smile, but I’m sure I looked as ambushed as I felt, and then she didn’t even let me see the pictures. As fast as the photo shoot began, it ended.
“That’s a good one. The wedding program said Dana Rogers. That’s you, right? Yeah, that’s your face. I just sent you a friend request. I’ll post these pictures later and tag you.”
I took a sip of my drink and knew, for a fact, I didn’t want to be the next Bridget.
No one wanted to be a fucking Bridget. She was a mess. Plus, adding insult to injury, she had lipstick on her teeth.
What she had working for her was her new attitude toward Cord. Get in and get out. It had certainly worked for me. I’d practically thrown myself at him, and it wasn’t until I’d caught those stupid feelings when things started getting off track.
And now that’s where I was derailed.
I leaned around her so I could glance down the line of people. My best chance of coming out of it—with any kind of friendship with Cord—was to meet him head on. Beat him to the punch.
When I found him again, he was talking, and the next thing I knew Bridget had excused herself to say hello to our tall, mutual friend.
I fucking hated the heavy, sludgy feeling in my stomach from seeing her playfully shove him. Seeing her touch him. Knowing her intentions.
Wondering if she’d get what she wanted.
Dana, you knew better.
I should have quit too-hot men cold turkey because there’d be no way around the crazy withdraw I’d have from him. Ironically, it was that mentality that made Bridgets do such desperate things.
Right out of the playboy handbook, Cord basically smiled and waved her off. Women like her, like the Old Dana, fed on rejection. His hard-but-not-too-hard-to-get game had worked on me too.
There I’d thought I was the one who had control of everything, that I was somehow going to preserve my feelings, and I fell right into the trap anyway.
When I came back from checking myself over in the ladies’ room—mostly I’d been paranoid about lipstick on my teeth—he was nowhere to be found. My chest burned, and I feared I’d have some time to get used to the sensation.
There was no head table, to speak of. Becca and Reuben shared a smaller table off to one side, and everyone else was left to sit wherever they pleased. Straight away, I found Mom and Ted at a table, and it was kind of strange having my whole family there, except little Max. Even Dad and Angela were sitting with us.
The party buzzed with voices and laughter, and while everyone chatted, the happy couple made their way around the room accepting well wishes and the best of everyone’s luck.
They were happy. Truly happy.
The feeling of Cords lips was still tingling on mine from his surprise kiss after the photographs were taken. I prayed that the feeling would soon go away, and maybe after some time, some soul searching, I’d find what they had.
What I feared most was: I’d be faking it because there was little chance I’d ever find someone who made me feel like I had when I was with him. In his arms. His company.
His arresting brown eyes.
With the thought of them, I met his gaze from a few tables away. He was talking, but when we connected over people’s heads and around guests walking between us, he stopped.
They say looks can kill, but at that moment, I wondered if they could confess. Or explain. Or just tell the truth.
After a few seconds, and just before my view blurred from gaping, Trevor followed Cord’s focus to me. Then, as if he’d interrupted us, Trevor looked away, and it felt like he was giving us privacy. Strange, how in the midst of all the chaos, we were separate, yet very together in that one look.
Cord’s half smile was enough to fill his warm eyes, then he gestured to his table with his head, and I glanced down. His hand sat in a fist atop the white linen, and then his thumb sprung up.
Who knew a little thumb could cause such a bruise from all the way across the room, but I felt the pressure of it nearly slow my heart to a dead stop.
I made an okay sign because it felt like the right thing to do, and I could’ve used a little right just then. Everything else felt so wrong.
He stared, but I did too. Until my eyes stung, and then I pretended to clear my throat and got a drink when my bottom lip started to quake.
My mother had been saying my name, so finally I pretended to pay attention to her.
Why was it so hard?
How had I let myself get that far?
Who knew my last hoorah would be the most painful one of all? Out with a bang. A kill shot with his fucking name on it.
Becca and Reuben finished cutting their cake, and after they thanked everyone for coming, they passed a mic to Jyl who kept her maid of honor speech short and sweet.
I guessed a second microphone was given to Cord, because as the applause from Jyl’s perfectly lovely words came to an end, his deep, ever-familiar voice boomed through the speakers, and I sat up straighter.
“Whoa. Sorry. That was loud,” he jested after pulling the mic away from his mouth.
Despite feeling like my insides were in knots, the sound of him talking soothed me.
He continued, “I know many of you in the room, but for those who I haven’t met, I’m Cord Taylor. Reuben and I—and Nolan over there—have been friends nearly all our lives. Then Reub and I were college roommates, and now we’re even business partners. I guess when you find the right people in your life, you keep them close, and then they become family. Becca, welcome to ours, and don’t let your husband always think he’s right—even though he usually is. Dammit.” He lifted his beer high into the air. “Here’s to Becca, the best thing—out of all the things—Reuben’s ever been right about. Congratulations.”
My mascara was in jeopardy, my nose stung.
“Wasn’t that sweet?” my mom asked clutching her heart. “Dana, you should date him.”
Lord, strike me dead.
“I think so, too,” my father added. He was the only person on God’s green Earth, and at our table, who I’d told about Cord.
“Shut up.” I pretended it was no big deal, and, by laughing, hid the crack in my voice. “Is Max with your folks, Matt?”
“Yeah. Two weekends in one month with no kid. It’s been nice.”
What a dick. That’s what I got for trying to switch the conversation.
Jodi looked down into her glass of wine. Either she had a higher tolerance for assholes than I did or she was over it.
With speeches out of the way, it was time for the stupid garter and bouquet toss, so I went to the bathroom—again—to freshen up. The traditional reception things would be done soon. Dread pleaded with me to keep avoiding him, and I even considered going to my room early.
But that wouldn’t have been fair to my friends. So I sucked it up, fixed my lip gloss, and scraped together as much maturity as I could find.
At the entrance into the reception, my dad met me and with his hand held out. “I think you need a dance with your old man.”
Could he see through my bullshit?
“Thanks for not throwing me under the bus back there at the table.” He easily could have said more than he did.
“No problem.” I wrapped my arm around his waist, and he led me to the dance floor where other couples had joined Becca and her father. My dad was an old-school dancer and held his arm at ninety degrees with my palm in his. When he shuffled, and I followed like I had my whole life. “Dana, I thought you liked him.”
I didn’t have to look him in the face, but I couldn’t cross my fingers.
“Dad, I do, but it’s not going to go anywhere. It was probably just a fling.” Saying it out loud sucked even more than just thinking it. My dad was just the first of many who’d now be asking about us.
Us. Ha!
“It didn’t sound like that on the phone. Is that why you’re not talking or sitting by each other? Did something happen?” My dad had always been practical about things like that, and it didn’t surprise me that he was curious. He’d been my go-to parent for relationship stuff. I always figured if I wanted to know about guys, asking one would be most beneficial.
He didn’t look at me while he asked his questions, but he was easy to confide in. The words were just hard to find and say.
“No. Nothing happened yet, but I’m waiting for it to any minute.”
He patted my back as he moved, it was a small gesture, but I needed any comfort I could get.
“I think I’m ready for something more than just casual, Dad.” I rested the side of my head on his shoulder. “I’m ready for the real thing. Something that will last.”
He gave my hand a squeeze and tightened his arm around me. “I’ve never heard you say that.”
“I never wanted it. I was fine just dating around, having fun.” My heart was racing, and I felt like I was going to crash into a wall or fly off a cliff. “Being single used to be liberating. You know? I felt free and independent. Now, it just feels lonely.”
He kissed my hair lovingly with a hum like he used to when I banged up knees. “Well, kiddo, when you give more you get more—I can tell you that. It’s always a risk, but, in the end, hopefully, it’ll be worth it.”
Why couldn’t it just be him?
“Excuse me, Denny. May I dance with Dana?”
I hadn’t realized Cord knew my dad’s name, but nonetheless, it was him.
This is it.
“Dana?” my father redirected the question to me.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” I took a deep breath and my dad released me. He cupped my cheeks. “I love you, and you’re the most beautiful girl here.” He pulled my head forward and kissed me between the eyes. I squeezed them tight and wished foolishly that I could rewind time.
Maybe for more of it.
Maybe I’d try harder to stay away.
Maybe I’d just to do it all over again.
“Cord, son, you watch out for her. You know the saying—though she may be small, she is mighty.” My dad took a step to the side, and Cord stepped in, looking down at me with a thoughtful smile.
Maybe he’d had fun too.
He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, and that kind of pissed me off.
Okay. It hurt.
“That she is,” Cord replied. He didn’t pull me close, but his large hands rested on my hips. I’d miss those damn hands.
Dana, you knew this was coming.
Get tough. Don’t let him know.
I must have been standing there a little too long without moving because Cord took it upon himself to lift my arms to his neck. He was so much taller, and they just barely reached around.
Normally, face to face, either he bent down, or I was up in his arms. We’d only sort of danced one time, outside of his cabin, but that was way more like vertical making out than choreography.
Either way, from then forward I’d probably hate dancing. And making out.
And anyone taller than me.
And whatever the fuck kind of cologne he was wearing.
Fuck all of it.
Frustrated, I grew madder by the second. I shifted feelings around, looking for relief, but they only felt more like anger.
“It’s been a crazy weekend. Did you miss me?” he asked.
Yes.
Get tougher.
“We just saw each other last night. That wasn’t enough?”
Then I swallowed bitter disappointment.