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I send them a polite smile. “We’re fine, sir. Thank you.”
“That was quite a scene,” the man adds. “Hey, wait a second. Were y’all the comedians at the show?” Nick and I nod, watching their grins grow wider. “You two were so funny. That TCB joke was hilarious,” he laughs, referring to one of Nick’s Elvis jokes that went completely over my head.
“Thanks,” Nick says with a modest smile. Definitely not his usual chipper self.
“I’m Ed and this is my wife, Pamela. We’re in town from Knoxville.” We greet them with friendly handshakes, hoping this is the end of the interruption.
“I’m Nick and this is Olivia.”
“Well, you make a beautiful couple,” Pamela says. “I bet y’all make each other laugh all the time. You know that’s so important in marriage.”
“We’re not married,” I say. When can I take off this veil?
“Oh,” Pamela says. “Well, you must be close otherwise.” Not at the moment, ma’am.
Ed elbows Nick in the ribs. “She’s already in the white dress, might want to marry her now before someone else does.”
Oh, Lord. This is a very awkward exchange under our normal circumstances but with the marital miscommunication conflict at hand, it’s worse.
The music slows to a lullaby and the mood of the entire room shifts instantly. It’s an Elvis hit I recognize only from UB40—“Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
“All right now, we’re gonna slow it down for a beat,” Stage Elvis says into the mic. “All you Elvises out there, go on and grab your Priscilla sweetheart and let her know how ya feel.” Then he croons, “Wise men say ...”
“Go on, ask her to dance,” our fan encourages us, giving Nick a gentle push.
“It’s okay,” I say, my knees locked. “We don’t dance.”
“Oh, c’mon. We wanna see you dance.” Ed says it so loud that now others are staring. “Dance with her. Dance with her,” he chants.
Uh-oh.
Then two, four, and ten others join in—Dance with her. Dance with her.
Ooh, shit, what do we do? Nick seems to feel the pressure because he relents and takes my hand.
“If it’ll get ’em to shut up,” he says low near my ear.
Our little fan club cheers us on. The rational part of me knows this is just a show for the fans. But the moment his fingers are wrapped around mine and his breath tickles my ear, that little bud of a crush (the one I thought was finished after the ring) begins to bloom inside me. Nick’s hand slides above my waist and I rest mine lightly on his shoulder as we begin to sway to the romantic melody. I keep my gaze lowered and muscles stiff. He obviously doesn’t want to be here with me. How much longer before this feeling (and song) is over?
I slowly look up his stubbled chin enough to know he’s staring off somewhere else. There’s only one way to fix this. And it’s all up to me. “I’m sorry,” I start. “About the ring. I shouldn’t have been in your things. And I definitely shouldn’t have made assumptions about you. Especially after last night.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
I’m not even sure if I should say what I’m about to, because there’s only one reason someone keeps that token of love after the big D. “And I’m sorry about your divorce. I had no idea.”
I watch him swallow something back before he looks at me—the Priscilla version. “I should’ve mentioned it before.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Nick knits his brow like he doesn’t know why. “I don’t like to talk about it. So I don’t.”
“I get that.”
“You do?” Nick stares at me as if he’s trying to see past the lenses and the lashes and the makeup. And I do get it. There are many things I refuse to verbally acknowledge because when you voice something, it’s real and you can’t take it back.
“Yeah.” Maybe Nick and I have more in common than I realized. I’m not hiding a divorce but there are painful things in my past that I prefer not to address with anyone, not even myself.
“So, can I buy you a burger? Any kind you want,” I ask.
“Sure. As long as I can get out of this jumpsuit first.”
“What’s the rush? You can totally pull it off.”
“Really? Because I feel like Liberace’s nephew,” he says, and I laugh—grateful for the joke. “You look pretty though.”
My face feels warm and tingly at his words. “I do?”
“Yeah, in a drunk ’60s housewife kinda way.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.”
