Chapter Fourteen #2
“Thanks,” I said. “Okay, be honest with me. As my plus-one, do you think this dress is too much?”
His eyes trailed down the length of my body and he blushed slightly as he seemed to think carefully about his words. “Can you please define too much? That feels highly subjective.”
I laughed and took a sip of my wine. “Is there too much boob showing?”
Kayden choked on his drink and glanced at my chest again. “Oh, um, no. Definitely not too much. Just the right amount. I mean, still just my opinion I suppose. But you look very nice.”
His nervous energy at having looked at my boobs when I asked him too was adorable and I wanted to hug him for being so sweet. Guess there are still sweet guys.
“What are you drinking?” I asked, gesturing to his clear, bubbly drink.
“Tonic water with lime,” Kayden said.
“You don’t feel the need to get buzzed to get through a wedding like everyone else?”
He looked down and swallowed. My stomach dropped as I realized I’d made him uncomfortable. He looked back up and tentatively met my eyes. “I absolutely see the appeal, but I’m sober.”
“Oh,” I said, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching his hand across the table for me. “It happens.”
“I’m sure it does,” I said, looking down at his hand covering mine. I met his eyes again. “I’m still sorry for the shitty joke and it’s not your job to make me feel better about it either.”
His eyes narrowed as he seemed to parse out what I meant.
“Do you want to talk about your sobriety?” I asked. “Absolutely no pressure, of course, but I’m more than willing to listen if you do.”
His head tilted to the side and I could see him weighing his options again. I’d never met anyone who I could see thinking the way I could when I looked at him. It was fascinating. “I don’t generally like to talk about it, but I think I’d like to tell you.”
I smiled, feeling the sincerity in his tone pull at my heartstrings. “Okay.”
“I’ve been sober for three years. I drank in college just like everyone else around me and didn’t think much of it.
I was still top of my class, so I figured it was fine if I needed a drink in the middle of the day to get through.
It helped me feel less anxious in social situations and drowned out a lot of other fears and concerns.
It wasn’t until about a year after college when I was working on my master’s in architecture and barely making it through the workday without needing that next drink so badly that I’d start sweating by lunch that I realized I had a serious problem. ”
I squeezed his hand, and he continued. “My dad’s a horrible, mean alcoholic. Worst of the worst. I looked at myself in the mirror one day, and I saw him looking back at me. I checked myself into a ninety-day rehab facility in Phoenix that night. I’ve been living there and sober ever since.”
“Wow,” I said. “Good for you, Kayden.”
He shrugged. “It’s hard sometimes, but it gets easier every day.”
I took a sip of wine. “Does it bother you if I drink? Because I don’t have to. I’m already flirting with a hot guy at a stranger’s wedding, I can take it from here sober.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I invited you up here for a drink. Besides”—he crinkled his nose—“wine is the least tempting thing you could ever drink in front of me.”
I laughed heartily, dropping his hand and enjoying the smile that spread across his face as he slowly took another sip of his tonic water.
“So, how often do you pick up women at weddings?” I asked.
“In general? Or specifically women who show up to the wrong wedding?”
I swatted his wrist playfully. “If that’s happened to you before then I have a lot of questions about the kind of women you attract.”
“I don’t pick people up at weddings. I usually sit at the singles table, struggle through a painful amount of small talk, regret that I’m sober for a least a half hour and then go home alone, dreading the days until the next college friend gets married.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I’m doing you a favor tonight?”
“If I say yes, will you stay through the reception and save me from this hell?”
“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I’ll stay.”
He glanced at his watch. “Based on my experience at weddings so far this summer, I’d say that we have about a ten-minute window for you to tell me everything I need to know about my plus-one before we go in there.”
“Wait, where will I sit? And what about food? Aren’t these things planned down to a science.”
“It’s a buffet, and if we’re a chair short, we’ll just tell someone at the venue that they must have miscounted the chairs. They’ll bring us one without questioning anything.”
“Are you sure you haven’t crashed weddings before?” I asked skeptically.
He finished his drink and leaned forward. “I told you; I’ve been to a lot of these recently. And you know what I’ve observed at them?”
“What?”
“No one gives a shit what anyone else is doing. Everyone is dancing, drinking, and focused on themselves. The staff who work these weddings have one job: solve any problem without alerting the bride and groom. A chair is a minor request.”
“Okay. You seem smart, so I’m just going to trust you on this one.” I pulled my hair over one shoulder. “What do you want to know about your plus-one.”
“Anything you can cover in nine minutes,” he said. “Talk as fast as you want, I’ll remember it all.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No straight man has ever remembered everything a woman in a cleavage-bearing dress says.”
His eyes locked on mine, and I saw the wheels in his mind spin again, but he must have thought better of whatever he was going to say because he shook his head slightly before saying, “I have an exceptional memory.”
“So, what, you remember everything perfectly?”
“No, I make memory errors just like everyone else. I just remember far more details about an experience than most people. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I remember every horrible thing that happens just as well as the good things.”
I reached for his hand and found it right where I’d left it on the table. Like he’d kept it there in case I came back. “I’m sorry you remember the shitty stuff the rest of us want to forget, but I’m prepared to give your exceptional memory a run for its money. How many minutes do I have?”
He looked at his watch again. “Seven, Olivia. Get talking.”
I chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’m twenty-four.
I’m an only child to a single mom and a man who barely deserves the title of father since I’ve seen him, like, a dozen times in my life.
I grew up in Boston but went to college at Georgetown.
The distance nearly killed my mother—and me.
We’re very close. I moved home after college and got a job as a waitress. ” I paused. “Need me to slow down?”
“Not at all, keep going.” He rotated his wrist in the universal sign for hurry up and I took another sip of wine and a deep breath to power through.
“I still work at the same restaurant where I started. I like waitressing but I’m really interested in trying bartending.
My boss is a total perv, and if I ask him to let me bartend, I’m pretty sure he’ll request something lewd and disgusting in return.
I should probably find a new job, but I feel a little guilty having paid for a degree in business and then making an active choice to stay in waitressing. ”
“What do you like about waitressing?” he asked.
“I like the fast-paced hustle and bustle during the dinner rush. I like seeing families out celebrating or couples on first dates. People experience some of their greatest life moments in restaurants and I get to witness it all. It’s kind of cool.
Plus, I have no desire to be in the corporate world.
I like local restaurants run by good people.
I could probably see myself managing a place like that someday. ”
“And yet you keep working for the perv?”
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Yeah,” I sighed. “You ever stop and wonder how badly our parents screw us up sometimes?”
Kayden scoffed. “Far more often than is healthy, I’m sure.”
“Well, my dad breezing in and out of my life made me feel like I didn’t deserve good things. It’s like he’s the dad I got, and I should just be happy about that. I think it’s kind of like that with my job. Like, this is the manager I’ve got, and maybe it’s the one I deserve.”
“Absolutely no one deserves to be harassed at work,” Kayden said firmly. “There’s a good chance even your dad, absent as he may be, would agree with that one.”
I sighed. “You’re right. I should probably quit.”
“You should definitely quit,” he said as the wedding coordinator stepped into the room, announcing that it was time to move to the dining room.
“I will quit tomorrow,” I said, finishing my wine and setting it down on the table.
“Really?” he asked, looking hopeful.
I shrugged. “Sure. I can make you promises all night long, just like I can tell you all my deepest thoughts. Because we’ll never see each other again after this, right?”
He blinked at me a couple of times, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. “I guess I thought this was going better than it is?”
I stepped around the table and took his hand. “This is going great. But you already said you live in Phoenix.”
“Right.” He turned to face me, stepping close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. “Since we’re on the subject of parents who screwed us up, my father makes Boston one of the last places I want to be most days. I fly back to Phoenix tomorrow morning.”
“Then let’s keep enjoying tonight. No fake promises about tomorrow.”
He nodded softly. “But you’ve already made the one, so you have to stick to it. Tomorrow, you quit that job. Find someone you want to work for who will let you bartend without making you uncomfortable.”
“Deal,” I said, offering my hand in a handshake.