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He fed me a delicate bite while I absolutely creamed him with a palm full of cake. I took a step back, out of retaliation range, and he lunged at me, sweeping an arm around my back and pulling me up to kiss my neck with his frosting-smeared face. I squealed and half-heartedly fought him off while, from the corner of my eye, I caught my mom throwing up her hands in frustration. She’d lectured me over and over about how immature that particular tradition was.
The bite I’d gotten from Neil and the bits I’d teasingly kissed from his face was all the cake I got. Brides apparently don’t get to eat at their own weddings, no matter how much the meal cost per plate.
Between songs, Shelby alerted us to our next married couple duty, the one I’d been dreading the most. Our first dance. Dancing in public wasn’t what bothered me. It was fun to go out to a club and grind up on other people to loud music and disconcerting lights. It was not fun, however, to be on display in an environment where one is expected to be graceful. Unlike some couples, who I now regretted mocking in the past, Neil and I hadn’t worked on some elaborate choreography to pull off during our first dance as man and wife. But I wasn’t totally unprepared. We had practiced.
Beneath the high, open ceiling in the den, Neil had pushed back the coffee table and rolled up the rug so that he could impart his wisdom about wedding dances.
“The first thing to remember,” he’d advised me sagely, “is that everyone thinks you got fully drunk in the limo on the way to the reception.”
Of course, there had been no limo on the way to the reception, just a short walk. But I hadn’t pointed it out then, and it made me giggle now as we walked onto dance floor. Neil’s hand curved around my waist, and I imagined we were back at our house, John Legend’s “All Of Me” playing on my phone, rather than the instrumental arrangement for piano and strings performed live now. We started our steps, and I thought of the way it had felt when we’d been gliding around in our socks on the polished wood floor. In our practice, I’d crashed into Neil, and he’d held me on my feet. We’d laughed and fallen down then forgotten about dancing altogether. It was the same feeling now, as I gave in and let him lead me effortlessly around the floor. Even though I was in a beautiful, if not entirely comfortable, evening gown instead of rolled up sweatpants and a faded hoodie, even though Neil didn’t have to curse and snap, “Stop trying to lead, Sophie!” when I stepped on his foot for the millionth time, it felt normal. It all clicked into place; whether we were dressed up all fancy or wearing comfy sweats, whether we were married or not, Neil and I were still just Neil and I. We were the same two people gliding around the famed floor of the Plaza Hotel’s Grand Ballroom as the ones laughing and colliding and not taking anything seriously.
The song was over way too soon.
Once the dance floor filled up and everything started to feel more like a party than a wedding, I loosened up. While Neil danced with Emma, I used Holli to defend my way to the bathroom, where she fished a candy bar from her purse. Eating a Snickers on the toilet wouldn’t be one of my top-ten romantic wedding memories, but after starving all day and needing to pee worse than ever in my entire life, it was definitely in my top-ten urination experiences.
I checked for chocolate smudges on my mouth then went back to the dance floor. The band was playing, “Just The Way You Look Tonight,” and Neil held Olivia in the crook of his arm, her tiny pink fist in his hand as he swayed with her. Her huge eyes were fixed on the silvery light patterns shifting on the ceiling. Neil, on the other hand, saw nothing but her, so I managed to sneak up and tap him on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” I took Olivia and sniffed her head. “I know it’s weird, because she apparently smells like Emma’s breast milk, but Olivia’s head always smells so good.”
“It’s the smell that gets you,” Neil warned. “It sticks in your nose, and you’re stuck wrapped around their little fingers for the rest of their lives.”
“Like you weren’t going to be, anyway,” I teased. The song was ending, and I spotted Emma coming out to reclaim her child.
“Let’s get off our feet a moment, shall we?” Neil gave Olivia a final kiss before I handed her off to Emma, and we unceremoniously stole two seats at a table near the dance floor.
“Oy, fucko! That’s my chair!” Ian came toward us with a huge, congratulatory smile on his face. Neil got up and offered his hand, but Ian pushed his arm aside and went in for a bear hug instead. When they parted, Ian came to me and took the hand I offered, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Always good luck, getting a kiss from the bride.”
“Sit with us,” Neil said, and Ian pulled up an unoccupied chair from the next table.
“Look at the two of you,” Ian said, sighing as he sat down. “Like a pair of salt and pepper shakers. Neil, you’re the salt, on account of the white hair.”
“I do not have white hair!” Neil laughed, but reached up to his head with unconscious defensiveness.
“Nah, mate, you look like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning.” He leaned back with an elbow on the table. “I’m happy for the two of you. I don’t know what you see in him, Sophie, but god bless you for taking him on. And you’ve won the fucking lottery, old man.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Neil agreed.
“Will you now?” Ian jerked his thumb toward the bar. “You want to go have one?”
“I can’t. It was a figure of speech.” Neil put his hand on my knee. “I’m hanging it up.”
“Good idea.” Ian nodded sagely. “But your good ideas won’t get me drunk, so I’ll bid you adieu. I know you have a lot of friends, Sophie’s friends, specifically, who all look like fucking models…”
I scanned the room, seeking out one “friend” in particular. An employee, really.
“Thank you for coming, Ian.” Neil took his hand and shook it. “We’ll be back in two weeks. Maybe you’d like to come round for dinner?”
“Call my secretary when you get back, we’ll set something up,” he promised.
I watched him as he went off toward the bar. My heart did a little skip. Penny was headed to the dance
floor—in a surprisingly sexy violet A-line dress with a plunging neckline. Like something out of a romantic comedy, their paths seemed destined to cross.
And they did, just as Ian saw someone he recognized and turned course, barely missing her.
Damn it.
I sighed and leaned my head on Neil’s shoulder. “I need to go mingle with my family. Why don’t you find your brothers and let them tease you about kidnapping me.”
