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CHAPTERONE
I am dancing with the most handsome guy at the wedding.
Brown hair, matching eyes, a devilish grin, and patent leather shoes that are currently stepping on my toes. I’d be annoyed, but when you’re dancing with an eight-year-old, you let it slide.
“You’re a good dancer, Tara,” Hunter says as he raises his arm to twirl me.
I duck between our joined hands. “Not so bad yourself, kid.”
“This is our fifth dance in a row. You sure you don’t want to dance with a grown-up?”
“Why would I want to dance with any of these fools when I’m already with the coolest person here?”
I’m not kidding.
I look around the lavish reception of my best friend’s wedding and sigh. It’s no surprise that the bride and wedding planner extraordinaire, Melissa Jones, has transformed a barn into an elegant affair. She and her groom, William Bronson, paired their tastes perfectly. The room is rustic chic with twinkling lights and extravagant florals.
And while it’s ripe with romance, there isn’t one to be had for me.
There are plenty of handsome single men here tonight. At the bar is Todd, Dick, and Kyle—all friends of the groom. Todd and I went out once, but the night ended when he asked if I wanted to go back to his place and play video games. No, that wasn’t a euphemism. He literally wanted to play Romp the Sack—a two-person battle where you fight each other’s avatar on the latest gaming system. Dick and I had a coffee date, where he berated the barista. I left with my full latte in hand. And Kyle and I chatted at a party once, but there was no spark.
Seated at a nearby table is Kent, a sergeant I dated, but his fear of intimacy had us parting ways. Standing by another table are a few single gentlemen I’ve met through Melissa and Will. I’ve scouted them all and even kissed one or two. Instead of princes, they all turned out to be frogs.
My dating history is longer than Taylor Swift’s, and I don’t have the cool songs or Easter egg–laden music videos as a bonus to each romance ending horribly.
“You know what your problem is?” Hunter states. “You’re picky.”
“I’m a successful, gorgeous thirty-six-year-old woman with an amazing sense of humor, and killer taste in style—I mean, have you seen these shoes? More importantly, I know my fucking worth. Let that be a lesson to you, my fabulous godson. Never settle for anyone less than what you deserve!” I declare and then add, “Oh, and don’t tell your mom I cursed. I promised I’d watch my language.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
It’s not usually my style to come to an event stag. As a woman on the hunt for a man, I know better than to attend a wedding or engagement party without a date. Women tend to eye the single gals with skeptical glares. They hang on to their man’s arm like a mama bear protecting her cub from a circling vulture. It’s as if going to a wedding is supposed to make me extra horny and want to sleep with every man whether he’s taken or not.
For the record, I’ve never ever taken another woman’s man.
After a series of dead-end relationships, bad dates, and a thumb that hurts from swiping left, I decided to just enjoy the evening of my best friend’s wedding on my own.
Melissa’s laugh from the dais sounds over the music. She’s seated beside her now husband and is positively glowing—and not just because she’s in her third trimester of pregnancy. It’s because of the man whose eyes she’s staring into, the ones that are lit up with a smolder as he looks at her like she’s the most magnificent being on the planet. It makes me smile, and a warmth runs up my arms and swirls in my chest.
When Melissa’s first husband left her, she never thought she’d find love again. Will had to bang down the door to her heart, and she’s now happier than she’s ever been. While I’m still searching for my one and only, this bitch was lucky enough to get it twice.
Yes, I can call her a bitch because she’s my soulmate. My sister. The one I would kill for—and almost did when her swine of an ex had an affair. I had the shovel in my hand, ready to bury the body.
Alas, she opted to move on.
The best of us do.
I’m living proof.
“Mind if I cut in?” a young voice I know well asks.
Hunter and I turn to Ainsley, the six-year-old daughter of my other friend, Jillian—another one who found love this past year. Jillian fell in love with the same man not once, but twice. Luke had stolen her heart years ago, broken it, then put it back together after discovering they had a child together. It’s a complicated story but a good one.
I’d even settle for a love like that … angst and all.
I turn to the little girl in a sparkly dress and smirk. “Actually, I do mind if you cut in. Hunter’s dance card is full.”
She places her hand on her hip. “Dancing all night with a second grader isn’t a good look for you, Tara.”
