Читать книгу Dater's Handbook - Cara Lockwood - Страница 7

Three

I hardly thought about Peter the next day as I sat through the wedding ceremony, a truly touching exchange of vows beneath the white chuppah, as Dana Abrams officially became Mrs. Dana Schmointz. Now I understood what people meant by the phrase “beaming with happiness” because afterward, Dana looked like she could light up the night sky with her smile. The guests gathered in the immense ballroom of the swanky hotel in downtown Denver as we all dutifully plucked our seating cards from the table where they were arranged. I glanced around the beautifully decorated reception, my attention lingering on the dessert table, where the impressive three-layer cake towered over other smaller slices of vanilla and chocolate goodness. My inner sweets monster reared its head, and I had to fight it back down. In good time, I told it. In good time.

I searched for my seat at number five, but when I found it, I wished I hadn’t. It was, quite literally, the kids’ table. I recognized the flower girl and ring bearer from the ceremony, but I didn’t know the other children. I saw two empty chairs and had a horrifying thought: what if Dana had left that spot open? What if it was just going to be me and a bunch of kids who could barely be called tweens?

Before I could descend into full-blown panic mode, I glanced up and saw a man in a gray suit and lavender tie approach. Clean-cut and attractive, he wore his dark hair swept back and bore a cocksure grin on his face. He hadn’t noticed me yet. He focused on the flower girl in the pale pink dress.

“Uh-oh,” he said, standing near one of two empty chairs. “Table five? Just the best table in the entire place, am I right?” The man slid into the empty seat next to the flower girl. “Are you kids ready to get this party started? First thing we’re going to do is order a full round of Shirley Temples, on me. Who’s with me?”

He offered the flower girl a high five, and she smacked his palm. A cheer went up from the group. He had quite obviously won over the mini crowd. He was so sweet, I couldn’t help but be impressed. I knew Peter wouldn’t have even tried. He didn’t like kids and made his dislike known on a regular basis.

“You’re one cool dude,” the flower girl said, echoing my thoughts. The stranger looked up then and caught my eye. I held the card for table five in my hand, and he smiled at me. I felt a warm little glow in the pit of my stomach. Maybe this reception wouldn’t be a disaster, after all. I scooted over to the empty chair. He pushed it back for me and I took a seat.

“Hello,” he said. “Welcome to table five, the best table at the wedding. Would you like to join us in a round of Shirley Temples? Miss…” He glanced at the place card in my hand. “Miss Cassandra Brand?”

“Uh…Cass, actually, and that sounds lovely, Mr…” He held up his card and I read it. “Mr. Zappia.”

“Robert Zappia.” He offered his hand and I shook it, the warmth of his big palm covering mine. Strong hands, I thought, suddenly enjoying a little jolt at the connection. He had puppy-dog brown eyes that never left mine.

“Make it a double, Mr. Zappia,” I joked, and he laughed, a warm, gooey laugh that I almost felt in the tips of my toes. Robert’s eyes grew big, and he made faces at the children at the table.

“She’s going crazy, kids!” he declared and some of them giggled.

Upbeat accordion music began playing, and the groom, Jim, came to tap Robert on the shoulder. “Time to dance,” he told Robert, and Dana motioned me up, too. People stood and began clapping along to the traditional Horah dance as we all formed circles on the dance floor. The flower girl, I noticed, slipped right beside Robert but he reached out for me, clasping my hand.

I had to admit, I didn’t mind the contact. His hand pressed against mine, warm and protective. He smiled at me once more, brown eyes sparkling, as we danced our way in a circle to the beat. Groomsmen brought chairs, and suddenly, the crowd lifted the bride high in the air as Robert and I moved to the side. We still kept time, clapping with the beat, but even the music couldn’t drown out Dana’s glee as they raised her up and she declared, “Can you believe it? I’m married! I’m officially Mrs. Dana Schmointz!” Then she let out a long, joyful shout that people probably heard in Idaho.

Robert glanced down at me, eyebrow raised. “Can you believe it?” he murmured, imitating Dana. I had to laugh as I let out a high-pitched squeal of my own, and Robert did, too, as a waiter came by and offered us flutes of champagne.

Oh, I liked Robert more by the minute.

I took a glass of bubbly and then made my way back to the table, a little out of breath from dancing in heels. Robert followed me, and we sat in our seats, the chairs around us mostly empty, the kids off somewhere else.

“You dance a mean Horah,” Robert told me, clinking his champagne flute against mine. I laughed.

“Well, thank you. You dance a pretty mean Horah yourself, Mr. Zappia.” Despite only knowing him a hot five minutes, I felt relaxed with him. There was something conspiratorial in the way he looked at me, something I liked.

The waiters came and served dinner, and as we ate, we chatted. He’d met the happy couple in college, and he told me how meeting Dana had changed Jim’s life for the better. I told him about Dana, and how Jim had changed her life, as well—and everybody else’s in the office, since we’d all been subject to the high-pitched squeals of happiness since they’d gotten engaged.

A few more couples whirled on the dance floor.

“They look like they’re having fun,” he said, taking a sip of his champagne.

“It’s great, but dancing is only the second-best part of a wedding.”

“What, pray tell, is the first-best thing?” Robert leaned in, and I became hyper aware of how broad his shoulders were, how low his voice. I leaned in, too, and I inhaled the scent of his aftershave, something spicy and sweet with just the hint of vanilla. The man smelled good.

“The cake—clearly!” I’d been eyeing that beautifully frosted beast from across the room since I’d gotten here. I eyed a waiter that delivered a piece of that deliciousness to the table next to us. When was it our turn?

“Speaking of cake…” Robert turned to our left, and we saw Dana and her new husband feeding each other frosted bites. Lucky ducks. “They really are the perfect couple.”

It was obvious how happy they were—sickeningly happy. I thought of my parents for a moment, back when Mom and Dad used to sneak kisses in the kitchen when they thought we weren’t looking. Nadia and I always found it so gross, so icky, and Nadia asked often why they couldn’t be like other parents, the ones who could—and did—keep their hands off one another. Nadia liked to tell them they were ruining us for any hope of a real relationship as adults. Because, after all, what chance did we have of finding what they had? We all knew relationships like that were as rare as a perfect diamond.

My stomach tightened, as it did every time I thought about Dad.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “If you’re into that I’m-going-to-be-so-happy-for-the-rest-of-my-life thing.’”

“Yeah, who wants that?” Robert joked along with me. “Blech. BOR-ing.”

“Boring!” I echoed and laughed a little. Boy, I could stare at those brown eyes all night. Handsome didn’t begin to cover it, but there was something else there, too. A playfulness, maybe? I’d forgotten what playful was like. Peter wasn’t playful. He was almost always serious.

Robert’s expression grew somber. “But, seriously, people want love.” The way he said it made me think he was talking about himself. “They want the happily-ever…”

He mimed screaming and then added, “Aaaaafter!”

I joined him in the mock scream.

Peter would never have admitted that men want happily-ever-afters. He’d once said men only want happily-right-now. But talking about forever love seemed a tad too close to talking about feelings. I itched to change the subject. I glanced up to try to find the waiters with the cake. Where were they?

As if hearing my inner cry, the waiter came and plunked down a piece of cake in front of the nine-year-old flower girl who’d just materialized from wherever she’d been hiding, as if she, too, had a second sense for dessert.

“Hey, kiddo,” Robert said as the waiter served him next.

“Oh, that looks really good,” I said, realizing the waiter had to go back for more cake. Those were his last two servings. Come on, couldn’t he see I was dying for cake over here? My sweets monster was literally having a fit. It looked so good, too. Delicious buttercream icing over…was that white cake or… I needed to know. Now. I grabbed my fork and sunk it into the delicious, sweet goodness. The bite was in my mouth before I even had time to think about how rude it might be.

“Put the cake on the table and the kids run back…” Robert said, trailing off when he saw the missing bite out of his cake. “Excuse me. That’s my cake, woman.”

“Mmmmm…” I murmured, stolen bite still melting on my tongue. I should’ve felt badly about it, but, honestly, the cake was just astounding—buttercream, vanilla-y yumminess. “It’s soooo good.” I grinned. Besides, something about pushing Robert’s buttons just felt fun.

The server returned and plopped my own piece of cake in front of me. Geez—finally!

“Turn about!” He moved his fork into my cake’s airspace. Instinctively, I rose to defend what was mine. I put the tongs of my fork on the back of his hand.

“Uh-uh,” I growled, pushing him away from my cake. The flower girl burst out laughing.

“Do you see what’s going on here?” Robert asked her.

The girl nodded, the ring of blooms in her hair bobbing. “Yeah, she just stole your cake!”

I gobbled the rest of my dessert down in no time, trying not to notice that I’d beaten even the kids at the table. Darn you, inner sweets monster. I finished the last of my champagne and then excused myself so I could head to the restroom. Once inside the ladies’ room, I re-applied my lipstick and smoothed down my dark hair in the mirror. I considered the fact that, shockingly, I wasn’t having a terrible time. I knew that had everything to do with Robert, whose quick wit had made the evening fly by.

I missed that with Peter. He didn’t do flirty banter. Heck, he didn’t do banter, period. Sure, he had a fantastic body and chiseled good looks, but where did that get you if you had no good inside jokes?

I left the bathroom, and the first thing I saw was Robert waltzing with the flower girl on the dance floor. She stood on his feet as he moved her slowly in circles. Adorable. His back was to me, but I was close enough to overhear him tell her, “You are a wonderful dancer.”

“Thank you,” the flower girl said but then wrinkled her nose. “You’re a little clunky.”

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. That girl was a walking truth bomb.

“Wow, thanks,” Robert said, acting hurt. “That’s because you’re stepping on my toes.” He reached down and picked her up as if the nine-year-old weighed nothing. Strong arms, I noticed. And it was sweet how he twirled her around.

“Are you going to ask that lady out on a date?” the girl asked him.

I ducked behind a pillar just as the pair moved closer to me.

“Do you think I should?” Robert asked the girl. I peeked around the column, not sure what I should do. My churning stomach told me fleeing was good. Yet, I wanted to hear what he’d say.

“You want to get married before you’re too old and crinkly, don’t you?”

“First off, you have to go on a couple of dates first and then you get married,” Robert told her. “That’s how it works.”

Sage advice.

“Well, you two are cute together. Especially when she tried to stab you with her fork. That was funny.”

“Funny?” Robert pretended to be upset. “Glad it made you laugh.”

I grinned, remembering the look of mock outrage on Robert’s face. He was a good sport, I had to give him that. I was not such a good sport when people tried to steal my dessert.

The girl cocked her head to one side. “You’d better ask her out before someone else does and she gets married.”

Robert put the girl down on the floor. “You, kiddo, are right,” he said, and my heart jumped a little. He knelt in front of the girl and tapped her softly on the nose. “You are so right. Wish me luck.” He moved away from her to cross the dance floor. “And thank you for my dance!”

I swallowed hard. I knew Robert and I flirted most of the night, but I never thought it might end in an actual date. After all, I had that thing Peter didn’t want to label going on. For two years! It meant something, even though I wasn’t sure what. Accepting a date with Robert would be wrong, wouldn’t it? But then, did I want to have to tell him and those intelligent dark eyes no?

Someone tapped the microphone onstage and then I saw Jim and Dana standing there, holding hands.

“And now, the time has come for the traditional throwing of the dead flowers,” he announced to the crowd as Dana elbowed him, a grin on his face. “Bouquet time! All you single ladies gather round—over by the DJ!”

As Dana stepped off the stage, smiling at me and pointing, I felt a bit of panic well up in my throat. Dana would no doubt aim that toxic bouquet at me. And then what? I’d go show Peter the flowers and tell him, “It’s our turn”? The thought made me light-headed and nauseated. And what about Robert? What would I tell him if he asked me out?

Ugh. This was my cue to leave. I glanced over at the coat check and raced to it, grabbing my jacket from the rack and slinging it on. I managed to run up to Dana just before she reached the DJ.

She saw my jacket, and a tiny worry line creased her temple. “You’re going?” she asked me. “But you’re not going to stay for the flowers?” She held up her bouquet, and the look of disappointment on her face told me all I needed to know: she had planned to launch them at me.

“Sorry, I just…” I glanced at Robert, who glanced around the room, most likely looking for me. “I can’t stay,” I said, shaking my head. “But you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. You and Jim are wonderful together, and I’m so very happy for you.”

The crush of bridesmaids and other singletons crowded impatiently over by the DJ, and I knew I couldn’t keep Dana a second longer.

“Congratulations again!” I said and hugged my assistant. She squeezed me back and then Jim swept her off to do her bridal-bouquet-tossing duties.

I stepped out into the cold fall air and sighed, my breath escaping in a white cloud as I headed to my car, parked in the lot around the corner. I thought again about Robert. I really should tell him good-bye.

Then again, no, I shouldn’t. Better me sneaking out than having to tell him no if he asked me out. But I knew things had already gone too far. I’d let them go too far. I picked up my pace and my heels clacked on the sidewalk as I zipped up my jacket and headed to my car.