Chapter 2
“H ere we go…” Will muttered under his breath as he stepped into the elaborate venue. “Why do I sign up for this stuff?”
“Will,” Margo called out cheerfully as she appeared out of nowhere, arm-in-arm with another woman like they’d been hunting for him all night. “I’d like you to meet Abigail Hemingway.”
Abigail shot out a hand like it was a game show buzzer, wide-eyed and practically vibrating with excitement. “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. Star of the show.”
“Oh, this isn’t for me,” Will replied as he glanced around, taking in the over-the-top spectacle with a raised brow and a half-smirk. “I’m just an ambassador for the animal rescue.”
Abigail threw her head back in laughter, like Will had just delivered the punchline of the night. “I feel like I already know you. I’m your biggest fan.”
Will let out an awkward chuckle and shot Margo a look—a silent warning wrapped in a tight smile. “Oh? Is that a fact?”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Margo chimed in with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying every second of the spectacle she’d stirred., “I see some clients. You two can get acquainted.”
“Oh, uh...” Will made a move to stop her, but Margo was already halfway gone—on a mission, heels clicking and chaos pending.
“You’ll be fine.” She called out over her shoulder, “Carry on. I’ll check on you two... later.”
As Margo disappeared into the crowd, Will slumped against the bar with an exasperated sigh—equal parts surrender and silent prayer. “So, tell me about yourself...”
Abigail plopped onto the barstool beside him with an over-the-top laugh, tossing her hand onto his. “I know everything about you. Read all your books dozens of times, and I have a scrapbook all about you.”
Will nodded slowly, eyes wide with the kind of stunned expression that said, what just happened—and how do I rewind it? “Wow. That’s... interesting.”
* * *
The ballroom sparkled like a glamorous magazine spread brought to life—crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, a live string quartet played a delicate arrangement with the kind of elegance that made everything feel fancier than it probably was, and the crowd buzzed with champagne, small talk, and just the right amount of barely-contained social panic.
Women glided across the polished marble floor in designer heels that screamed style over stability, while men adjusted tuxedo jackets like they were suiting up for battle. The air was thick with perfume, anticipation, and secrets disguised as polite laughter.
Amid the glitz and glitter, Alex and Will crisscrossed the ballroom like background characters in each other’s story.
They passed one another again and again—at the buffet, by the dance floor, near the champagne tower—each time within arm’s reach, and each time without a single spark of recognition.
It was the kind of near-miss montage the universe clearly choreographed with great amusement.
Alex, now seated at a table draped in gold satin and formal awkwardness, sipped her sparkling water with the slow, deliberate patience of a woman trying not to flee.
Beside her sat a man who smelled like he’d bathed in cologne samples from every department store within a 50-mile radius.
He was already three humblebrags deep into a story about his yacht, and Alex’s smile had shifted from engaged and charming to strained and possibly twitching.
Her lips were upturned in polite interest, but her eyes were screaming, Send help. Or cake. Or both.
Across the room, fate kept moving its chess pieces, drawing them closer. But for now, the game remained hilariously one-sided—two strangers orbiting the same glitter-drenched universe, just one meaningful glance away from everything changing.
Meanwhile, across the ballroom, Will found himself under siege—in the most glittery, perfumed way possible. A cluster of well-dressed women had formed a circle around him, cooing and complimenting like he was the final rose at a reality TV finale.
He smiled politely, nodded at all the right moments, and wore the strained expression of a man seriously contemplating whether now was the time to fake a sudden phone call, a fire drill, or both.
A few feet away, Alex spotted Charles by the dance floor and came to an abrupt halt, the kind that sent her curls bouncing.
She executed a flawless 180, pivoted on her heels, and bee-lined in the opposite direction with the urgency of someone who’d just seen their ex—and also remembered they left the oven on.
Will, still attempting to flee the social ambush without hurting anyone’s feelings or tripping over a gown, cut through the crowd like a man on a mission.
Hot on his heels was Abigail, chattering away with the bubbly energy of someone trying to win prom queen, land a husband, and secure a brand deal—all at once.
And then—because the universe clearly had a sense of humor—Alex and Will passed each other. Again. So close, their shoulders almost brushed.
Still no spark of recognition. Still no lingering glance. Still completely unaware that their entire evening was one well-timed glance away from flipping upside down.
Somewhere between dodging awkward small talk and pretending not to notice the matchmaking stares from across the room, Alex found herself drifting toward the edge of the action—quietly hoping to blend into the wallpaper, or at least the waitstaff. No such luck.
A waitress handed her a sparkling drink and pointed toward a man on the far side of the room, grinning and waving like they were old pals.
Georgie and Luke flanked him, clearly enjoying the matchmaking show.
Alex offered a tight-lipped wave in return, wondering how she ended up in a real-life romcom without reading the script first.
Across the room—because the universe had impeccable comedic timing—a waiter approached Will with a perfectly chilled drink and a gesture toward another group of hopeful romantics.
They stood clustered together, all smiles and eager waves, as if they'd just spotted a celebrity in their natural habitat.
Will nodded politely, raised his glass in a half-hearted toast, and kept walking––because lingering might invite conversation, and conversation might lead to matchmaking... and he was dangerously low on patience and exit strategies.
After a few more polite nods, sidesteps, and a near-collision with a waiter balancing a tray of shrimp cocktail, Will decided he’d earned a break from the ballroom circus.
He made his way toward the coat check with the determination of a man on a secret mission—one that involved fewer people and absolutely no more small talk.
After dodging another round of enthusiastic minglers and weaving past a precarious ice sculpture that looked one degree away from catastrophe, Will finally made his escape.
The coat check was tucked in a quiet alcove, blissfully free of sequins and small talk.
He exhaled like a man who’d just survived a social battlefield and handed over his ticket with a grateful smile.
As he turned with his coat slung over one arm, Alex stepped up to the counter from the opposite direction, her own ticket poised between two fingers.
They passed each other like clockwork. The timing? Cinematic.
But for now, the two stars of this accidental love story? Still dancing around destiny—and each other… or were they?
Alex didn’t wait for her coat to fully settle on her shoulders before making a beeline for the nearest exit.
Her heels clicked across the marble floor with the urgency of a woman dodging both awkward small talk and matchmaking conspiracies.
As soon as the cool night air hit her face, she exhaled, the city’s quiet hum a welcome contrast to the glittering chaos inside.
She glanced over her shoulder one last time, just to make sure no one was following—Georgie, Charles, a well-meaning waitress with another drink she didn’t ask for—when she collided headlong with something solid.
Someone solid.
Her momentum pitched her forward, but a pair of steady hands caught her before gravity had a chance to embarrass her entirely.
“Whoa—careful,” came a voice, calm and low.
She blinked up in surprise, heart racing for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the near fall—and everything to do with the man standing in front of her.
Will.
Alex gasped. “I am so, so sorry. I, uh, wasn’t paying attention.”
She glanced over her shoulder again, as if making sure the ballroom hadn’t decided to chase her down.
Will offered a soft smile. “Leaving early?”
She nodded, wearing a sheepish grin. “Something like that. Not my scene.”
Will’s brow lifted slightly. “Ah. I know the look. Blind date?”
“Several. Apparently.” Alex chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“No need to explain. I understand.” Will said.
“You, too, huh?” she asked, tipping her head curiously.
“Couldn’t get out there fast enough,” he muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for her to catch it.
A sleek luxury car rolled up to the curb. Both of them glanced at their phones.
“That must be yours.” She said. “Mine’s still a few minutes out.”
“You should take it. I’ll wait,” Will offered.
“Oh no. It’s your car.” She hesitated, clearly torn.
Will shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you out here alone this late at night.”
She tilted her head, eyes softening as she smiled. “That’s very kind of you. You sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said, voice low and smooth.
Without hesitation, Will opened the rear door. Alex slid into the car gracefully.
“Thank you,” she said, tucking her feet in. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem at all. I hope your night gets better.” He said.
She smiled. “I hope yours does as well.”
He returned her smile and added a wink. “It already has.”
Will gently closed the door, tapped the roof to signal the driver, and gave a quick wave as the car pulled away, the city lights catching in his eyes.
And just like that, after an entire evening of “almost” and near misses, the universe finally stopped playing keep-away.