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Across the noisy room, I see Matt standing up, his muscular form dominating the space and by his mere charisma, shushing the crowd.
“I’m not one for fancy speeches, but I just want to say this one thing.” The older man looks directly into my eyes, his own blue ones sharp, even in the dimly lit room. “Cora, you are as sweet, smart, and witty as they come. I am a lucky man to know that in just a few months, you’ll be a part of my family for good. To Cora, and to Marky. May you always enjoy what life brings you.” Matt raises his glass and the other guests follow suit and cheer. Matt sits down, lost again among the many faces.
But I can sense my almost father-in-law watching me from across the room. I try to act nonchalant, but knowing that Matt’s piercing blue eyes are focused on me is strangely arousing.
Cora, that is so wrong. I blush at my inappropriate thoughts. He’s your fiancé’s dad.
And yet he’s so handsome.
I look at Marky, but once again, my fiancé is ignoring me. This time, instead of prodding him to again get off his phone, I decide there’s no harm in distracting myself. I look about the room for something to occupy my racing mind, all the while intentionally trying to avoid looking at Matt. But it’s no use. Within seconds, I find myself gazing in his general direction.
Finally, unable to help myself, I sneak a furtive glance directly at Matt. He’s looking back at me, his sharp blue eyes intense and arousing. I look away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught.
Blushing, I turn my attention to the room at large. The restaurant is packed with loved ones from all over the country. I see my great aunt sneaking yet another cocktail, while one of Marky’s groomsmen is hitting on Hadley. I smile when Brett Cunha, sitting a few seats down from us, catches my attention with his happy laugh.
Now that’s a handsome man, I think appreciatively. Strangely, I don’t feel guilty thinking this, the way I do when looking at Matt. Maybe it’s because Matt Harrison is about to be your father-in-law, the voice in my head chides.
Yet, there’s something different about Brett. Marky, Brett and I went to high school together, but I didn’t really know Brett at the time. He was on the football team with Marky, and they were great buddies. In all ways, Brett is astonishingly handsome with an athletic build, deep brown hair brushed behind his ears and a friendly smile. Yet, there are no chills when I look at him. He could almost be one of my girlfriends, he’s so open and unassuming.
I wonder what he’s doing these days? I know he and Marky are still friends, but I rarely see him around.
Brett notices me looking at him and smiles at me tentatively, but then his gazes slides almost immediately at Marky. I return the smile, but watch Brett from the corner of my eye. He’s also on his phone, furiously typing something. He looks up once more, this time directly at Marky and almost on cue, Marky looks at his buzzing phone.
Are they texting each other?
With a troubled frown and a long sip of champagne, I settle into my chair to wait for the evening to be over so I can finally confront my fiancé. What’s going on? Why are Brett and Marky texting each other in the middle of our engagement dinner? I need to solve this mystery before the night is over.
4
Cora
Admittedly, by the time the boisterous dinner is over and the guests are gone, I’m a little tipsy from the champagne. Why on earth did the restaurant staff keep bringing me so many glasses?
I’m standing in the front lobby at the restaurant, happy to be breathing in some cooler air from the open front door. It’s late and all of the guests have gone home, leaving only me, Marky, and some serving staff alone in the now quiet building.
“It was really nice of your dad to do all of this. Can you thank him again for me?” I ask.
Marky looks around vaguely.
“Sure.”
“Maybe we can write him a thank-you card. He might appreciate that.” I offer.
“Sounds good. Do you want me to call you an Uber?” Marky fidgets with his jacket button, standing a couple of feet away from me.
That does it. I put my hands on my hips and throw him an exasperated look.
“Okay, what gives?” I demand, feeling emboldened by all the champagne in my system.
“What do you mean?” Marky looks up at me, feigning innocence.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. All night long, you’ve been acting weird and distracted and like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world. What is going on?”
Marky stops squirming and looks at me intently.
