Good Time(60)

Which is how I nearly run smack into Vince.

He’s here. In a black suit and God help me he looks good. I catch him just as he slides out of his car and scans the area with a slow sweep of his eyes. I duck behind the valet desk before he can see me, and I don’t even know why I’m hiding. I’m so surprised to see him that I’m thrown off guard and my heart is racing like I just ran half a mile in heels. My phone dings an incoming text.

Canon: Hey, FYI, your husband is on his way here.





Payton: Why are you such a dick at giving me a heads-up? He’s already here, but you know that, don’t you!?!?!?





Canon: Yeah, but it’s more fun for me this way.





Payton: dick!





Canon: He’s inside now if you want to stop crouching behind the valet stand.





I hold my middle finger up over my head, then stand and exhale loudly. Okay, so Vince is here. That’s good? That’s good. I straighten my dress and contemplate what I want to say to Vince. I don’t get very far in my contemplations when Mark arrives, so I bring him up to date on the whole lot of nothing that’s been going on, then I head inside. I detour to my desk on the third floor to grab my handbag, but my boss is in a chatty mood so by the time I head down to the party it’s nearly nine. And I’m jumpy.

The thing is, when you’re sort of looking for someone and sort of avoiding them at the same time, it tends to make a person a little tense. Like when you go to a haunted house and you know none of it’s real and you’re not actually in danger of dying, but you still jump when a teenager dressed as a werewolf yells, “Boo!” Kinda like that.

We’re expecting up to five thousand people tonight and there’s at least half that many crowding the ballroom space, so when I walk into the room and see Vince it’s perfectly normal to pretend I don’t see him and dash in the other direction.

Perfectly normal.

I can feel your judge-y eyes, but unless you married a man the day you met him, yet somehow, some way, fell in actual real love with him even though love is terrifying and unpredictable and doesn’t come with a guarantee, you don’t know how you’d react the first time you saw him after he sent you annulment papers.

So I run. Not far, just to the other side of the ballroom. Then to the ballroom across the hall where they’ve got an opening act playing for the pop star. And then back to the main ballroom, where I run smack into Lydia.

“Hey!” She grabs me into a quick hug and then asks who I’m avoiding.

“Vince.”

“He’s here?”

“He’s freaking everywhere.”

“I think he’s friends with Canon,” she says with a small frown, probably wondering why the guy who helped her set up her fake virginity auction to Rhys, but whom she still may think is an actual pimp, is here.

“Yeah, that’s probably why he’s here,” I lie because I haven’t brought Lydia up to speed on anything and now doesn’t really seem like the time, does it? Hey, Vince doesn’t actually broker hookers, and by the way I married him. Seems awkward, right? When a tray of d’oeuvres passes by I grab one and shove it into my mouth to buy some time.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Lydia asks, eyes narrowing on me in concern. Damn, I forgot that she can be really observant when she’s not completely oblivious. It’s sorta all-or-nothing with her.

“Of course not.” I shake my head. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Taking care of what?” She’s definitely suspicious now. And nosey. Somebody named Lydia is getting a nosey badge on Monday, I can promise you that.

“The thing,” I respond as I snag a glass of champagne off a passing tray. “I’m going to fix it. It’s just turning out to be a bit more complicated than one would think.” God, if that isn’t the truth I don’t know what is. Marriage is super complicated.

“What thing, Payton? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” I insist. Then I spot Vince headed in my direction and he looks annoyed. Real annoyed. The thing is, I don’t think we need to talk about our future when he’s in a bad mood. That doesn’t make sense, so maybe I’ll just slip out of here, go home and I’ll talk to Vince tomorrow. We’ll have a civilized Sunday brunch, discuss our future and then have sex. “Listen, we’ll talk later,” I tell Lydia as I attempt to edge past her. “Dying to hear all the details about you and Rhys,” I add as I frantically look for an escape route.

But I’m trapped. Wedged in by a waiter on one side and an actress on the other. I turn to find Vince is feet away, and he’s definitely pissed.

“Mrs Rossi,” he says once he’s come to a stop a few feet away as I look for another avenue of escape. “Stop. Right. There.”

I glance at Lydia and shrug just as she shrieks, “You married him!”

“Freaking Las Vegas, am I right?” I shrug again as if to express that I have zero accountability in this surprise wedding.

“When?” Lydia demands. “When did this happen? How did this happen? You only met him two weeks ago! Payton! And you didn’t even invite me?”

Shit. “I would have,” I say slowly because I would have. I didn’t mean to exclude her, but it’s not like it was planned. “If I’d known it was happening. I absolutely would have invited you. You’d have made a much better maid of honor than Canon, that’s for sure. My hair was a mess and he didn’t even tell me. The wedding photos are horrible.”