Chapter Two

Anthony

I hated these kinds of events. They were so crowded, you never know who you were sitting with, and you were celebrating someone else’s happily ever after. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Mason—he was an amazing guy, and he found himself an equally amazing girl—but celebrating with two hundred people seemed pointless to me. I guess I didn’t always hate these events; in fact, ten years ago I could remember looking forward to them. But that was before Amy died.

I had met Amy in college, and we were instantly pulled to each other. She was beautiful, sassy, and kept me on the right track. We had such a beautiful life together with a gorgeous home, a relationship that made people jealous, and were planning to start a family soon. But then it happened—we were out on the fourth of July, watching fireworks on the boat, and a bunch of drunk teenagers plowed right into us. Amy fell overboard and was later found in the river. I had sustained some pretty serious injuries but was able to make a full recovery. At least that’s what they called it, but in my mind, I could never fully recover from losing her.

Now, instead of being one of the happy mushy couples dancing on the floor, I was a bitter middle-aged businessman who wore his ring as a deterrent to the old folks to ask me when I was getting married. I was glad I wore it that day because I happened to be seated with pretty much every older-than-Jesus person in attendance. They were nice, don’t get me wrong, but they were definitely nosy. I was the only actual single one at the table, but no one said anything to me about it, besides glancing down at my ring and asking where my wife was. I made up a story, not wanting to see the pity on their faces when I told them I was a widower.

I picked at my crab cakes, wondering how long I needed to stay before it was no longer rude to leave. The only person I saw alone was a cute pixy-haired woman sitting at the wedding party table, but she seemed to be having a good time, regardless of her single status. If she was part of the wedding party, then Mason would know her well, and I thought about digging for some information. She was really cute, and her eyes glimmered in the lights from the chandelier just like Amy’s had. I tried not to compare any woman to Amy since I was pretty much against any kind of commitment whatsoever.

After dinner was done, I stood up stretching, watching the girl make her way over to the bar and take a seat. I figured this would be the perfect time to go over and talk to her, but as I made my way through the crowd, Mason and Missy stepped in front of me.

“Hey, man, thanks for coming,” Mason said, hugging me. “Anthony, this is my bride-to-be, Missy.”

“It’s really nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand. “I’ve heard some really amazing things about you from Mason.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” she said, laughing. “If you guys will excuse me, I need to speak to Eliza.”

We both nodded and I watched her walk over to the girl at the bar and hip check her on the side. Eliza, huh. That name, for some reason, fit her absolutely perfectly, and I imagined her sprouting wings and flying off, her perfect curves swishing in the wind as she went. I could tell Mason was staring at me, so I looked back at him and laughed.

“Eliza, huh,” I said, sticking my hands in my pockets.

“Hold on, playboy,” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Eliza is the maid of honor and a really amazing woman. She doesn’t need your shady ways.”

“Shady? I am open and honest with every woman I meet,” I said, feigning shock.

I had known Mason for about seven years and had met him at a conference where his parents were presenting. I owned the marketing firm that helped him get his record label off the ground, and we instantly became friends. He knew my story, and he also knew my fear of commitment and the perpetual revolving door of women. I knew if he was protecting her, she must be something special.

“Seriously, though,” Mason said. “She’s been through a lot the past year. Just leave her be.”

“All right,” I said, putting up my hands. “So how about you? You look happy as a clam.”

“I am,” he said, laughing. “I couldn’t imagine a better woman in my life.”

“I am really happy for you,” I said, thinking about Amy and twisting the ring on my finger. “Cherish her, every second.”

“I will,” he said, giving me a knowing stare. “You think you’ll ever find another woman?”

“Me?” I snorted. “Nah, man. Amy was it for me. I couldn’t imagine anyone taking her place.”

“You know, they don’t have to take her place,” Mason said. “They can create their own place in your heart. Just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

“And I am,” I said with a smile. “But I appreciate the love, man. I can’t wait to see what the wedding is going to be like if this is the engagement party.”

“I know.” Mason laughed. “It’s going to be a madhouse. But there is free booze and amazing food, so you should have a good time.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” I said with a mischievous grin.

“You are terrible.” He laughed again. “All right, I gotta grab this beautiful woman and continue to make our rounds. It’s going to take all night getting through all of these people.”

“Better you than me.” I laughed.

I watched as Mason leaned over and grabbed Missy by the arm, pulling her away from Eliza and heading back into the crowd. I sat there for a few minutes, watching Eliza take her second shot of Fireball, wondering if I should heed Mason’s warning or not. I decided to do so and started walking around the event, people watching all the women that were there huddled together and gossiping. I sat down at a small table and crossed my arms, staring over at them.

There was a redhead that I definitely pegged as the woman who tried to be that “mother of the year” by crafting Halloween costumes but had no talent at all. She totally ended her day crying into her wine and downing some Valium. The blonde woman was that “supermom,” and everyone wanted to be her. She had the perfect husband—who cheated with the cleanup girl in the gym—the perfect children, who spent most of their time throwing fits, and she was incredibly catty. The redhead secretly hated her guts.

I laughed at myself, finding more and more women to make up stories for. I went around the room crafting the perfect picture of these people. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just stick to women; the men were my next victims. We had “Tom,” the sensible accountant with the hot wife that was only with him for his money. We had “Chance,” who always smiled because he felt like his $30,000 dental work was the best thing about him. And then there was “Bill,” and everyone knew a Bill. He was chubby, balding, owned a company but hated it, had a hot wife his daughter’s age who he actually thought loved him, and was the first person to fire you because he was having a bad day.

When the storytelling got tedious, I wandered over to the buffet, curious of what was on the menu. It definitely looked appetizing, but I was not really feeling like being the lonely guy stuffing his face in the back corner. The truth was, I had no idea what to do with myself, and I hadn’t yet seen one person that was ready to leave the event, not even the one random couple who had brought their screaming child. Maybe I should have brought a date, but the options were slim.

I had been “seeing” this girl for about three weeks, but for me, it was because I was tired of picking up women and just wanted easy access. For her, though, I was the man of her dreams, and I could already see her gossiping with her friends about how she tamed Anthony Cartucci. I laughed to myself at the thought of anyone taming me. I wasn’t a damn lion, and I had strict rules on that shit. Besides, she had reached her three-week maximum, and I thought it would be in poor taste to bring her here and then break up with her afterward. You needed to be careful when you took a chick to a wedding event—they got all kinds of crazy ideas in their head.

I wandered around for a bit longer before looking back over at the bar. Eliza was still sitting there, a shot in front of her and a beer mug to the side. She was looking up at the bartender and laughing, rubbing her finger around the rim of her glass. At first glance, it looked like she was flirting with him, but then I realized he was definitely wearing a gay pride pin. She was just bored, that was all it was. She was like me, not wanting to be that single person talking to other people. The questions came out sooner or later and, for me at least, if I had enough alcohol I was definitely going to tell you where to stick your relationship advice.

I liked this chick already, and I hadn’t even met her yet. I shook my head, telling my brain to calm the hell down. This was a one-night stand kind of event, and she was my target. I knew Mason told me to leave her alone, but she was a grown-ass woman and was more than capable of making her own decisions. Besides, it wasn’t like I lied to the girls or told them it was fate that we met. I met a girl, told her she was pretty, and fucked her in the bathroom—how intelligent does she have to be to realize I have no long-term romantic interest in her?

Her name sounded so familiar, and I was trying to place it in conversation with Mason. I knew she was Missy’s friend, and Missy was a yoga instructor/business owner. Wait… wait… this couldn’t be right. Did I just hit the mother lode? Was this the same Eliza who took over Missy’s other studio? Was I about to walk up on a yoga instructor? Hell yes, I was. Sorry, Mason, but there was no way I was walking away from that jackpot. I mean, hell, he didn’t either. Of course, he took that to a bit of an extreme with a marriage proposal, but still, he went after the yoga instructor.

I rubbed my hands together, looking around the room to make sure Mason wasn’t watching. He was too busy fake laughing with “Bill” to notice what I was doing. Missy was on the other side, showing her ring to the gaggle of self-hating women in the corner. This was perfect in every way imaginable. I walked over with hand in my pocket, glancing in the mirror as I passed to make sure my black hair was still perfect. I walked up beside her at the bar and nodded at the bartender.

“I’ll take two fingers of Glenlivet on the rocks, please,” I said, looking down at Eliza. She hadn’t noticed me at all, which kind of irked my nerves. Women always noticed me. I took the drink from the bartender and put a tip in the glass on the bar.

“It’s like a bad couples’ prom out there tonight,” I joked.

“Right?” She said, turning her head toward me and showing her blushed cheeks.

“Anthony,” I said, reaching out my hand.

“Eliza.” She smiled, taking it.

And I was in.