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I fell for Aiden during his speech, which is highly inappropriate given the fact that I had Darren sitting beside me that night. I try not to beat myself up about it though. It’s not all that shocking. Aiden is a journalist (something I didn’t know at the time), so if anyone was going to whip out a hilarious and poignant speech at a rehearsal dinner, it’s him. He told the story of a time he and James went hiking in the woods. Aiden had sprained his ankle climbing out of a ravine and James had to carry him all the way back to their car, but since Aiden is so much taller, James was struggling and ended up falling and twisting his ankle too. They’d hobbled back to the vehicle, cursing the woods and swearing to never go on a hike again. We were all in tears from laughing as we listened to him talk. I think Darren tried to get my attention at one point and I batted his hand away.
Now, it should be said that Aiden and I had very little interaction that entire weekend. Sure, we walked down the aisle together the next day (him looking absolutely soul-crushing in a black tuxedo) and we posed for photos with the rest of our family members, but it’s not like he and I were hitting it off at the punch bowl during the reception. I had to pay some modicum of attention to Darren, and Aiden’s time was monopolized by a whole slew of women. I found myself searching for him in the crowd during the reception, wanting to know what he was doing, who he was talking to. I’d gathered enough intel to know he was a few years older than me and single, but I wanted more.
The wedding coordinator came around after dinner had been served and leaned down to talk to me quietly.
“When Jolie and James finish their first dance, the DJ will ask for guests to join them out on the dance floor. I’d like you and Aiden to lead the way.”
“But—”
I glanced toward Darren, and she followed my gaze.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked my date sweetly.
Darren shook his head adamantly. “Not at all.”
I looked over to Aiden—having already pinpointed his location in the ballroom minutes earlier—and was surprised to find him looking my way. When our eyes locked, he shrugged as if to say, I’m game if you are.
I could barely stomach the rest of my dinner after that.
Dancing!?
Did I even know how?!
“And now let’s bring our newlyweds out onto the dance floor,” the cheesy DJ announced over the loudspeaker sometime later, and I searched around for a brown paper bag to heave into.
It was almost my cue. I was going to have to dance with Aiden and look like it was a totally normal thing.
“You okay?” Darren asked, having clued in to my impending freak-out. He leaned over to try to grab my hand to reassure me, but I pulled it away before he could.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked out, wiping my clammy hands on my couture bridesmaid dress.
I was absolutely consumed with trying to think of topics to talk about with Aiden on the dance floor.
What did you have for dinner? The children or the fish? Children?! Oh my god. No, I don’t eat children, I swear. I meant chicken. Did you have the chicken or the fish?
Even in my head, I couldn’t be cool.
I didn’t realize Aiden had come around to collect me until his hand touched my shoulder.
“Maddie? You ready?”
I bolted up out of my seat so fast my elbow collided with Darren’s nose. It started bleeding and he had to rush off to the bathroom to avoid staining his suit.
“Shoot!” I cursed under my breath.
“Is he going to be okay?” someone asked.
“Oh, he’ll be fine!” I insisted, not wanting to jeopardize my dance with Aiden.
I chanced a glance over at him to find him smiling at me just like he had the night before, like I was the most amusing person in the room. “Between the champagne glass and your date’s nose, you’re quite a liability, you know that?”
I blanched. “If you don’t want to dance with me, you don’t have to.”
“It’s okay. C’mon, I can handle myself.”
I scooted around my chair and let him lead me toward the dance floor. “I swear I’m usually more poised than I’ve been this weekend.”
“Of course you are. I’d expect nothing less,” he said, glancing down at my dress.
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, just a girl like you, from Highland Park…I’m sure you took etiquette lessons from the age of seven onward. I’d bet you learned how to walk gracefully with a stack of books on top of your head.”
“I’ll have you know my mother started formal dining lessons at age five, not seven, thank you very much. If you’re ever in doubt about which fork to use at a state dinner, I’m your girl.”
