ONE WEEK LATER
This is it. Madilyn’s big day. Her wedding day, where she marries the founding partner of the firm, Asher Marks. And its Valentine’s Day as well.
As the officiant pronounces Madilyn and Asher as man and wife and announces them as Mr. and Mrs. Asher Marks, all of their many guests, including me, clap and whistle and blow bubbles. They walk down the aisle, Madilyn looking exuberant and Asher looking proud.
I’m happy for them. Even though I would never, ever, ever get married, it’s what they want, so good for them. And they sure do know how to throw a party.
As the guests are ushered to the reception, Ruby and I take in the wonder that is a fancy schmancy wedding thrown by very rich people.
I say hello to my boss Jim Reed and look around for Madilyn so I can properly congratulate her. I can’t find her. I’m sure she and Asher have snuck off somewhere to take pictures— and to do other not so top secret things, knowing those two.
I can’t get over what a big, beautifully decorated ballroom they’ve rented in the resort for all of their wedding guests to celebrate with them. And I just so happen to notice Damien Hudson talking to Ron Sanchez, Asher’s best man.
Immediately my heart starts to race and my panties feel damp. I swallow, hard, telling myself not to have any visible reaction.
But Ruby still notices.
“Katie, Katie, Katie,” she says. “I thought you were over him. At least that’s what you’ve been spending the last two weeks telling me every time we’re on a break in the filing room.”
“I know,” I tell her, mortified that I can so easily flip flop.
But my heart is doing somersaults and cartwheels that my head can’t keep up with.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, squeezing my hand. “I know exactly how it is.”
Shit.
I’m so fucked.
Eventually Asher and Madilyn emerge and are announced again as they make their grand entrance into the ballroom. There are toasts, speeches and congratulatory remarks throughout a dinner that actually tastes pretty good, for catered wedding food.
There is Asher and Madilyn’s first dance, where they look into each other’s eyes with sickenly sweet devotion and love. And then the real party gets started.
“Congratulations,” I tell Madilyn when I’m finally able to make my way over to her. Ruby hugs her as well.
“Thanks, ladies,” she says, smiling at all of us. “This is the first time I’ve been able to relax since everything started earlier today. I never knew that getting married could be such a stressful event.”
Just wait until you’ve been married a few years, I feel like telling her. From what I’ve seen first hand, after the honeymoon and the wedded bliss wears off, there’s nothing left but stress and fibromyalgia.
Of course, I don’t say it out loud. Not even to Ruby. A wedding is neither the time nor the place for my cynicism.
I wish I weren’t so skeptical but I have seen what happens after people get married. I grew up with it. And I have no idea why people even believe in love, if they have ever seen the reality of a committed relationship up close.
But this isn’t about my thoughts and feelings about marriage. This is about Madilyn and her wedding day. So, I knock back the glass of champagne she hands me— apparently having a lot of money can buy a wedding reception where they don’t card guests— and say, “Here’s to the best day of your life!” with genuine (if not a bit ironic) sincerity.
“Help me celebrate, ladies,” Madilyn says, as the DJ begins playing the Cupid Shuffle.
Ruby and I hit the dance floor with her, going “to the left, to the left, to the right, to the right, to the right,” kicking and shuffling and walking by ourselves, just like everyone is supposed to do at a wedding reception.
Suddenly I see a tall, formidable creature on the dance floor. The only guy among a sea of ladies. It’s Damien, of course. And everyone except for me seems to love that he’s joined us for the Cupid Shuffle.
Some of Madilyn’s fellow associates, which she jokingly refers to as “The Barbies” are smiling and batting their eyelashes as Damien.
“Look at those shameless hussies,” I say to Ruby, not even trying to hide my annoyance.
Damien’s only looking at me though: getting down and doing his dance and singing “now come on, baby, kick” right in my direction. I have to pretend I’m having as much fun as everyone else so I smile while I shimmy and shake. And then I have to admit to myself that I actually am having fun.
“Yeah, Madilyn, why’d you invite the Barbies?” Ruby demands, as the three of us dance side by side in a line.
“Shhhh,” she says, laughing. “They obviously don’t know I call them that.”
“You’re not exactly fond of them,” Ruby says, referencing Madilyn’s early days at the firm and when she first started dating Asher. Apparently, those other new associates were quite mean to her but she got them in the end— by getting Asher.
“Oh, you know,” Madilyn says, shrugging. “Happiness is the best revenge, and stuff like that.”
“You just want to rub it in their faces and make them jealous, don’t you?” Ruby asks.
Madilyn laughs and says, “Well yeah, that too.”
“Well good job,” I tell her. “This is a lovely wedding. And very extravagant too. I’m sure they’re going to go home alone and cry into their pillows tonight about their lack of good fortune.”
“They’ll always have ‘Ken’ to keep them company,” Ruby says, nodding towards the second guy to join the dance floor: an associate who follows the “Barbies” around unsuccessfully attempting to date and/or sleep with them.
We laugh and then the music stops.
“Now it’s time for a slow dance,” the DJ announces. “So, grab your special someone and hold them tight, and hope and pray that your relationship turns out as nice as the bride’s and groom’s has.”
Madilyn and Ruby split off from me, each heading to their special man. And there I am in the middle of the dance floor with Damien Hudson.
“Well hello, Katie,” he says, extending his arm to me. “May I have this dance?”
Of course, it’s Dirty Dancing. “Time of My Life.” Only Madilyn would choose something so cheesy yet so perfect for the slow dance song at her wedding reception.
“I suppose so,” I tell him, still not willing to completely let down my guard.
But I have to admit I’m glad he asked me. I want him in a way that’s too strong to deny. And I can tell the same is true for him.
He takes me in his arms and looks down at me as if I’m the only woman in the entire ballroom. He smells like the outdoors— probably because that’s where the wedding ceremony was held, but also because he always seems to smell fresh and musty at the same time. It’s a sexy, masculine, powerful scent that’s uniquely his.
He holds me close and I can feel the Barbies’ eyes on us— it feels like everyone’s eyes are on us although I’m sure most people are watching Asher and Madilyn— and I don’t even care.
It feels right.
“Go to dinner with me,” Damien says, as I lift my head off his strong chest to look up into his eyes.
“I don’t exactly date,” I tell him.
Do you have any idea who my father is? I think about saying, but I don’t.
“Neither do I,” he says. “But I bet you we’d have fun.”
“You do, do you?”
“Just get it over with already,” Ruby groans, swooping in to make fun of us. “I double dare you guys to go out.”
She winks at me— as if to say “you’re welcome”— and then she and Ron glide back over towards the outskirts of the dance floor, leaving Damien and I alone once again.
“Well, since Ruby is daring us,” Damien says.
“And she’s your favorite person in the whole world,” I tell him.
He laughs.
“All right, fine,” he says. “Since that’s what you’re so concerned about. If you go on a date with me I promise you I won’t get Ruby fired.”
“Oh whatever,” I tell him. “You don’t have that sort of power. She’s dating one of the bosses and she’s friends with the other bosses’ new wife.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “You want me to like her, so I’ll like her. I won’t try to get her fired or do anything crazy against her. As long, as she doesn’t hack my stuff, I’ll forget about it. It’s in the past. Just go to dinner with me.”
“Fine,” I tell him, unable to hold up against his constant demands. I wanted to do it the first time he mentioned it, though. I just didn’t want to look like a pushover. “But that’s it. Just dinner. Just once.”
“Exactly,” he says, his hands tracing my back through my sheer dress, his lips grazing the tip of my ear in a way that makes me want more. “It’s just a bet. We’re doing it because Ruby dared us to. And that will be it.”
“That will be it,” I agree, as the song ends and we’ll left staring at each other, each daring the other to be the first one to let go.
Finally, I step away, just so I don’t become office gossip. But I wonder how long he would have held me if I hadn’t moved away from him first.