My stomach tightened, as it did every time I thought about Dad.
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “If you’re into that I’m-going-to-be-so-happy-for-the-rest-of-my-life thing.’”
“Yeah, who wants that?” Robert joked along with me. “Blech. BOR-ing.”
“Boring!” I echoed and laughed a little. Boy, I could stare at those brown eyes all night. Handsome didn’t begin to cover it, but there was something else there, too. A playfulness, maybe? I’d forgotten what playful was like. Peter wasn’t playful. He was almost always serious.
Robert’s expression grew somber. “But, seriously, people want love.” The way he said it made me think he was talking about himself. “They want the happily-ever…”
He mimed screaming and then added, “Aaaaafter!”
I joined him in the mock scream.
Peter would never have admitted that men want happily-ever-afters. He’d once said men only want happily-right-now. But talking about forever love seemed a tad too close to talking about feelings. I itched to change the subject. I glanced up to try to find the waiters with the cake. Where were they?
As if hearing my inner cry, the waiter came and plunked down a piece of cake in front of the nine-year-old flower girl who’d just materialized from wherever she’d been hiding, as if she, too, had a second sense for dessert.
“Hey, kiddo,” Robert said as the waiter served him next.
“Oh, that looks really good,” I said, realizing the waiter had to go back for more cake. Those were his last two servings. Come on, couldn’t he see I was dying for cake over here? My sweets monster was literally having a fit. It looked so good, too. Delicious buttercream icing over…was that white cake or… I needed to know. Now. I grabbed my fork and sunk it into the delicious, sweet goodness. The bite was in my mouth before I even had time to think about how rude it might be.
“Put the cake on the table and the kids run back…” Robert said, trailing off when he saw the missing bite out of his cake. “Excuse me. That’s my cake, woman.”
“Mmmmm…” I murmured, stolen bite still melting on my tongue. I should’ve felt badly about it, but, honestly, the cake was just astounding—buttercream, vanilla-y yumminess. “It’s soooo good.” I grinned. Besides, something about pushing Robert’s buttons just felt fun.
The server returned and plopped my own piece of cake in front of me. Geez—finally!
“Turn about!” He moved his fork into my cake’s airspace. Instinctively, I rose to defend what was mine. I put the tongs of my fork on the back of his hand.
“Uh-uh,” I growled, pushing him away from my cake. The flower girl burst out laughing.
“Do you see what’s going on here?” Robert asked her.
The girl nodded, the ring of blooms in her hair bobbing. “Yeah, she just stole your cake!”
I gobbled the rest of my dessert down in no time, trying not to notice that I’d beaten even the kids at the table. Darn you, inner sweets monster. I finished the last of my champagne and then excused myself so I could head to the restroom. Once inside the ladies’ room, I re-applied my lipstick and smoothed down my dark hair in the mirror. I considered the fact that, shockingly, I wasn’t having a terrible time. I knew that had everything to do with Robert, whose quick wit had made the evening fly by.
I missed that with Peter. He didn’t do flirty banter. Heck, he didn’t do banter, period. Sure, he had a fantastic body and chiseled good looks, but where did that get you if you had no good inside jokes?
I left the bathroom, and the first thing I saw was Robert waltzing with the flower girl on the dance floor. She stood on his feet as he moved her slowly in circles. Adorable. His back was to me, but I was close enough to overhear him tell her, “You are a wonderful dancer.”
“Thank you,” the flower girl said but then wrinkled her nose. “You’re a little clunky.”
I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. That girl was a walking truth bomb.
“Wow, thanks,” Robert said, acting hurt. “That’s because you’re stepping on my toes.” He reached down and picked her up as if the nine-year-old weighed nothing. Strong arms, I noticed. And it was sweet how he twirled her around.
“Are you going to ask that lady out on a date?” the girl asked him.
I ducked behind a pillar just as the pair moved closer to me.
“Do you think I should?” Robert asked the girl. I peeked around the column, not sure what I should do. My churning stomach told me fleeing was good. Yet, I wanted to hear what he’d say.
“You want to get married before you’re too old and crinkly, don’t you?”
“First off, you have to go on a couple of dates first and then you get married,” Robert told her. “That’s how it works.”
Sage advice.
“Well, you two are cute together. Especially when she tried to stab you with her fork. That was funny.”
“Funny?” Robert pretended to be upset. “Glad it made you laugh.”
I grinned, remembering the look of mock outrage on Robert’s face. He was a good sport, I had to give him that. I was not such a good sport when people tried to steal my dessert.
The girl cocked her head to one side. “You’d better ask her out before someone else does and she gets married.”
Robert put the girl down on the floor. “You, kiddo, are right,” he said, and my heart jumped a little. He knelt in front of the girl and tapped her softly on the nose. “You are so right. Wish me luck.” He moved away from her to cross the dance floor. “And thank you for my dance!”
I swallowed hard. I knew Robert and I flirted most of the night, but I never thought it might end in an actual date. After all, I had that thing Peter didn’t want to label going on. For two years! It meant something, even though I wasn’t sure what. Accepting a date with Robert would be wrong, wouldn’t it? But then, did I want to have to tell him and those intelligent dark eyes no?
Someone tapped the microphone onstage and then I saw Jim and Dana standing there, holding hands.
“And now, the time has come for the traditional throwing of the dead flowers,” he announced to the crowd as Dana elbowed him, a grin on his face. “Bouquet time! All you single ladies gather round—over by the DJ!”
As Dana stepped off the stage, smiling at me and pointing, I felt a bit of panic well up in my throat. Dana would no doubt aim that toxic bouquet at me. And then what? I’d go show Peter the flowers and tell him, “It’s our turn”? The thought made me light-headed and nauseated. And what about Robert? What would I tell him if he asked me out?
Ugh. This was my cue to leave. I glanced over at the coat check and raced to it, grabbing my jacket from the rack and slinging it on. I managed to run up to Dana just before she reached the DJ.
She saw my jacket, and a tiny worry line creased her temple. “You’re going?” she asked me. “But you’re not going to stay for the flowers?” She held up her bouquet, and the look of disappointment on her face told me all I needed to know: she had planned to launch them at me.
“Sorry, I just…” I glanced at Robert, who glanced around the room, most likely looking for me. “I can’t stay,” I said, shaking my head. “But you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. You and Jim are wonderful together, and I’m so very happy for you.”
The crush of bridesmaids and other singletons crowded impatiently over by the DJ, and I