Page 99 of The Game Plan

She nods. “I actually love the game, though I don’t get to watch as much as I’d like these days.”

“Always working?”

She nods, sheepish.

“Don’t be embarrassed, your work ethic is admirable.”

“Hmm, not every man thinks so.”

The music plays for Amelie’s entrance and we both watch the goddess walk to her god – my captain – at the altar, but all my head is focused on is an unfamiliar want to know more about the woman standing next to me.

“Why did you stay in New York, after college?”

“Because I could,” she whispers. My parents always wanted me to… “Never mind. Let’s watch the wedding.”

“It’s a vow renewal. The fifth one.” We sit, as everyone does, too.

“Okay, well, if you want the full information dump⁠—”

“I do.” It surprises me that I do. Probably the cocktails starting to kick in. But it’s true. Not only do I want to keep her talking to me, but I also like the way her lips move. The way they shimmer under whatever makeup she’s wearing. I like watching them while she’s looking away at anything to distract herself and making me think there’s a deep story here. Or, again, the alcohol talking, but hopefully, that she’s trying not to focus on me, defiant to the palpable pull between us.

Or, maybe, I’m not as magnetic as she is.

I also think these drinks might be giving me indigestion, which I rarely get but today, there’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling in my chest and in my stomach that I can only put down to whatever concoction is in my glass.

“Okay, well, I’ll say it quickly for you,” she whispers. “I didn’t grow up with anything. My parents worked their asses off to put me through school and classes. I wanted to make them proud and be the perfect daughter.”

The ceremony is underway and I’ve no fucking clue what part of the vows we’re in because I’m strangely fixed on the woman next to me.

“They were ecstatic when I got a partially paid scholarship to university in New York,” she tells me. “We’re from a small town and they wanted me to be a high-flying girl in the city. All three of us worked hard to get me where I am. Then Mitch got me an internship and that’s where I met Carl. He suggested we set up our own PR company and…”

She looks away again, as if the next part is harder to say. Her cheeks flush between freckles and I start counting them before she speaks again, not getting into double figures, but thinking one day I’d like to know how many freckles she has across her cheeks and the bridge of her Roman nose.

“You’ve met Carl, right? He can be persuasive.”

“I met him once, at the charity dinner for the youth sport foundation. Honestly, I didn’t find him persuasive. I found him distinctly unremarkable.”

She almost breathes a short laugh with her exhale. I think I’m in the territory of rude for the length of time I’ve been staring into her irises and watching the flecks of whisky color as they seem to morph and separate, the way I’d imagine stars moving in space. I see the way her pupils narrow and dilate; fascinating.

They dilate now as she fixes on me.

“I do remember that you wore a silver dress. Depending on which way you caught the lights, it either shimmered or flattened like velvet.” I swallow through an oddly dry throat, given I’m mid-cocktail. “The back was cut low and you had a necklace that looked like it could’ve been worn in reverse. It was tight here.” I put my index finger on the hollow at the base of her neck. “It trailed down your back with a cutout in the dress. And your hair was pinned up. That’s what I remember.”

She swallows, too. What the fuck is fizzing here?

“Anyway,” she says, rolling her shoulders back and her neck away from me, though I don’t think the rise of bumps on her skin is discomfort. “I didn’t actually have a visa to stay in New York beyond my internship so when Carl eventually persuaded me that we should set up a company, we agreed that he would be the CEO and me an employee, so that the company could sponsor my visa. Last year, we sort of fell into being engaged and agreed that once we were married, I would become a co-owner of the business because as a spouse, I’d have a different visa and be able to reside in the States.”

Something tells me we’re rapidly approaching the punch line and when we get there, the low rumbling anger I’m starting to feel will be directed at her ex.

“Two days ago, I walked into my apartment to find him fucking our secretary. So…” She takes the longest drink of cocktail I’ve seen her take yet. “I’m fucked, basically. As fucked as Perfect Tits Marcela.”

She finishes what’s left of her drink in one big mouthful. I hand her my half-drunk glass. “You need this more than I do.”

She takes it, holding it up like she’s toasting me. I raise her empty glass back at her. “And I thought I was the cluster fuck,” I say.

There’s a long pause before her pretty lips turn up and we both burst out laughing.

Only now do we realize that we’ve been so lost in conversation that the ceremony is midway. Correction, Tray and Amelie are saying their vows, again. But for the romantic tones of Lainey Wilson, the chapel was quiet, before our outburst.