Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Twenty-Nine

Nick

It feels as if the entire crowd turns simultaneously to take us in as we enter the ballroom. I didn’t forget how much I hated these things, but it’s fresh in my mind now.

“Let’s go get a drink,” I say before anyone can approach us. Mazzy nods, so I lead us over to the closest bar. “I’ll have a Bourbon Sour.” I turn toward Mazzy. “What would you like?”

“I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?” How the hell can she get through this thing completely sober? I wish her high society superpowers could rub off on me. She nods, so I turn back to the bartender. “Just that, I guess.”

“Coming right up.” He prepares my drink, and I face Mazzy.

“Relax, Nick. You look tense.”

I stop tugging on the collar of my tuxedo shirt. “I am tense. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to one of these things.”

At least this fundraiser doesn’t involve a sit-down dinner. I can’t imagine having to listen to some rich bastard go on and on about his summer house and what he’s made or lost on his portfolio this year.

“Surely the hospital must have some kind of fundraisers?” she asks.

“They do, but I usually just give a healthy donation and forego the event.” I shrug.

“Sir?”

I turn as the bartender slides my drink to me. I slip him a tip and return my attention to Mazzy. “Well, do you need to make the rounds?”

“I’m sure the hounds will come to us. That’s usually how these things work.”

No sooner does she finish speaking than an older couple I don’t recognize comes over. Mazzy introduces them as Phyllis and Stanley Richardson. I’m not sure who they are, but from their uppity attitudes, they’re comfortable in this environment.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Mrs. Richardson says. “I have to say I was quite surprised when I heard you’d remarried, Mazzy.”

“You know what they say…” I wrap my arm around Mazzy’s shoulder and pull her into my side. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

Mazzy stiffens, and the Richardsons look at me as though they can’t believe what I said. As though that’s any worse than what they just confronted Mazzy with.

Maybe there is a way to salvage this night. I can play a little game called Shock the Rich Pricks. Tell me how much I’ve won, Alex?

Mr. Richardson clears his throat. “Well, we were on our way to check out the silent auctions when we spotted you and wanted to offer our congratulations.”

I scrunch up my face in confusion. “Funny, all I’ve seen you offer is your judgment.”

Mrs. Richardson blinks a few times, and her hand goes to her chest as though she’s scandalized at my behavior.

“Good luck with your bidding,” Mazzy says. “It was good to see you both.”

They both leave, giving us double-takes as they walk away.

I grin at Mazzy. “Maybe this will be more fun than I thought.”

“You cannot do that!” she whisper-shouts, her eyes looking around the room as if someone else heard the conversation.

“She deserved it and you know it.” I toss back half my drink in one gulp.

“Even so… Nick, long after this”—she motions between us—“has ended, I have to still be around these people. Please do not embarrass me. I’ve had enough embarrassment from my first marriage to last a lifetime.”

I’m not sure what bothers me most: the fact that she cares what these people think, the mention of her first marriage, or the fact that she went through so much pain. But whatever the reason, I feel like an ass now.

“I’m sorry.” I run my thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll behave the rest of the night. Promise.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

I return her nod, then toss back the rest of my drink. “But I’m gonna need another drink to do that. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“All right, be right back.”

I watch Mazzy while I’m waiting for my drink. Most of the men who pass her take their time checking her out or approach her to say hello. Who the hell can blame them? It was all I could do to keep my dick from saluting her when I saw her in that dress. It fits her perfectly and it’s the ultimate combination of class and allure.

The bartender brings me my two drinks. I quickly finish the one before sliding the glass back to him, then I take the other one with me back to Mazzy. I ordered doubles this time around. I don’t have plans to get sloppy drunk, but a good buzz would be the perfect way to get through this evening.

I’ve only just returned to Mazzy’s side when I hear, “Ah, there’s the happy couple,” behind us. When I turn, I see Brock Carrington with a pregnant woman on his arm. Mazzy and I went to high school with Brock, and while we weren’t super close, we used to pal around back in the day.

“Hey, Brock. How are you?” I hold out my hand and he shakes it.

“Good, good. Haven’t seen you at one of these things in ages.”

I shrug. “I’m only here tonight because of my lovely wife.” I place the hand not holding my drink on Mazzy’s lower back as a real husband might.

“Yes, congratulations to you both. I saw the announcement in the Herald.” Brock leans in and gives Mazzy a kiss on the cheek. “Mazzy, you’ve met my wife before, but Nick, this is my wife, Trinity.”

She smiles. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I lean in and do the stupid double kiss thing that’s expected of me. I’ve never understood it. Who wants someone they don’t know so close to them that you can tell what they ate for dinner?

“I see congratulations are in order for you too.” I motion to Trinity’s swollen belly.

She places her hands on her stomach and rubs it. “Yes, only six more weeks left, thank God.”

“Has it been a difficult pregnancy?” Mazzy asks.

“Not especially, but I’m dying for a glass of wine and this baby seems to love to sit on my bladder. You wouldn’t believe how many times you can actually pee in a day.”

We all chuckle and spend the next five minutes catching up. Brock seems like he’s still a decent guy. Proof, I suppose, that money doesn’t corrupt everybody.

“I didn’t ask. Is this your first baby?” I take a sip from my drink. The alcohol is working its way into my system now.

“Second actually,” Brock says. “We already have a two-year-old son at home.”

“You’ve turned into quite the family man,” I say, thinking back to the days when he’d pick up anyone with a pair of tits.

“Speaking of which, you two better get on it if you’re going to start a family. None of us are getting any younger.”

Mazzy and I share a look and laugh.

“It’s been great catching up, but you’ll have to excuse us. I’d like to dance with my new wife.” I set my empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by, take Mazzy’s hand, and head out onto the dance floor.

I know the alcohol has loosened me up because once we’ve found a spot, I wrap my arms around Mazzy as if she really is my wife—possessive and claiming. She doesn’t complain though. In fact, she brings her hands up around my neck and rests her cheek on my chest as we circle around.

After we’ve been dancing for a minute, she draws her head back to look me in the eye. “I guess this is our first dance as husband and wife.”

I chuckle. “I suppose it is. Good thing it’s a good song.”

She cocks her head. “You know it?”

I shrug. “I listen to a lot of jazz these days.”

There’s a sad note in the smile she gives me. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because that’s something she didn’t know about me and once upon a time, she knew everything about me. But I didn’t start listening to it until my thirties. Our friendship ended when I was twenty-six.

“So? Are you going to tell me what it’s called or are you going to keep me in suspense?”

“Maybe I should torture you for forcing me to come here tonight.”

She playfully slaps my chest.

“It’s called ‘Someday Sweetheart.’”

She stops dancing and looks at me with her heart and soul in her eyes. “Seems almost fitting.”

I cock my head. “What do you mean?”

“I always thought I’d be your sweetheart someday.” The disappointment and regret in her voice is like a sledgehammer to my sternum.

I start moving again, and although I shouldn’t, I say, “I always thought so too, Maz.”