He chuckled, his unexpected smile creating delicious little lines around his mouth and eyes. He had one of those faces that was interesting as well as good-looking. One that changed from moment to moment. That surprised you with new ways to be attractive. “Well, I’m thinking you might be getting close. You did just spend an inordinate amount of time admiring your empty glass.”
“Ha!” she scoffed. She’d always thought she was particularly good at scoffing, although this might not have been her best effort.
Robert chuckled again.
Since his laughter wasn’t bitter or insulting, she didn’t mind his doing it. She gave him a slow, dignified smile and reached over to pat him on his jacket sleeve. “You’ve got a very nice laugh.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nodded to emphasize her point and then kept nodding. She wasn’t sure why. It just felt like the right thing to do.
Robert’s eyes were very warm, but he didn’t say anything as he raised his glass to his lips for another swallow.
She frowned. “Aren’t you going to give me a compliment?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it’s basic civility. I gave you a very nice compliment, and a decent man would give me one in return. Who taught you manners?”
“Evidently no one.” There was a new smile on his face now. Just a little one that looked like it wanted to burst into something bigger but wouldn’t.
She waited. It felt like she waited forever, but in reality it might have just been a few seconds. Her frown turned into a scowl. “Well?”
He cleared his throat. “You’re delightfully bossy even under the influence of alcohol.”
She gasped indignantly. “That’s not a compliment!”
“Why not?”
“No one wants to be called bossy.”
“I thought you’d like it. Don’t you like to supervise things?”
“No! I like to keep things running smoothly, but I don’t like super... supervision.” She tsked her tongue and raised her glass for another sip, forgetting there was nothing left in it. “I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of person.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. Don’t you know that?”
“I guess not.”
“Well, you should. I’m just a simple girl who likes to work behind the scenes to keep things running smoothly.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I do so much work that no one appreciates.” For a moment all her woes rose up inside her unexpectedly, making her shake, making her mouth wobble dangerously. “I planned this whole wedding.”
“I know you did.” His tone had changed. The quiet acknowledgment was strangely reassuring, soothing her wounded psyche. “You did a great job.”
Vaguely conscious that her words weren’t fit for public consumption, she leaned over to say in a stage whisper, “I didn’t even want them to get married, but I planned it anyway.”
“You did a good thing.”
She nodded, her heartbreak fading in the warm, slow blur of the champagne. “I did do a good thing. I’m a good person. You should remember that.”
“Why do I need to remember that?”
The question befuddled her for just a moment until the answer came to her in a flash of insight. “Because you might forget.”
Since that was a particularly good example of her witty repartee, she decided it was a good opportunity to leave things on a high note in this conversation. She turned toward the dance floor, where there were a couple dozen people dancing.
“I want to dance,” she announced.
Robert raised his dark eyebrows. “Seriously? I thought we were having a good time in this corner.”
“We were. And there’s little I enjoy as much as hearing your snide remarks about the world at large. But now I’m ready to move a little bit. I want to dance.” She stood up and extended a hand toward Robert.
Since she wanted to dance right now, it hadn’t occurred to her that Robert wouldn’t want the same thing.
His eyebrows went even higher. “If you want to dance, have at it. But I’m not a dancer myself.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open in stupefaction.
“You heard me.”
“Why don’t you want to dance?”
“Because I don’t like dancing.”
“But why not?”
“I could give you a long list of reasons, but none of them would change the fact that you want to dance and I don’t. So if you want to dance, find someone else.”
She huffed indignantly, her hand still stretched out toward him.
Robert just shook his head.
“I can’t believe you!”
“What can’t you believe?” The coolness of his voice was an affront to the pleasant whirling of her mind.
“You won’t dance with me?”
“No.”
“Don’t you like me?” She didn’t intend to sound quite so pitiful, but she couldn’t control the way the words were coming out.
“I do like you. And I’d like you even more if you’d sit down next to me and drink a glass of water.”
She stuck her tongue out at him since it was the only gesture that could embody exactly her mood at the moment. “You just want me to not be drunk.”
“You said you weren’t drunk.”
“I’m not. But I’m a little bit buzzed, and I like it. So I’m going to dance.”
Having given him an appropriately blistering denouncement, she turned on her heel and stomped off, wishing the chiffon in her dress didn’t billow quite so dramatically as she flounced.
Billowing chiffon didn’t match with her dignified rejection of Robert and all that he stood for.
Wouldn’t dance with her.
Disgraceful.
She’d find a man who would. That would show him.
She saw Charles Kensington sitting at a table alone across the room, reading something on his phone. When she reached him, she said, “Will you dance with me, Charles?”
She’d known Charles most of her life. They’d gone to the same school. He was a few years older than her, but they’d traveled in the same circles for a long time. He’d moved out of the city last year since he wanted peace to work on writing a novel, so she hadn’t seen him in a while. But she’d always liked him well enough. And he was an available man with whom to prove her point to Robert.
Charles looked surprised as he lowered his phone. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“That’s okay. I’ll do all the work. You just need to stand there if you don’t mind.”
He gave a little laugh but stood up without hesitation. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She was giggling as she took Charles’s arm.
She was going to dance.
And Robert would have to sit there and watch.
Served him right.
Her mind was a little blurry, but she knew Robert had done to her a great indignity, and he deserved to be punished for it.
So there.
ROBERT WONDERED IF he’d made a mistake.
Maybe he should have danced with Amanda.
He’d told her the truth. He wasn’t a dancer. He’d never been one of those people who could stroll out onto the dance floor and feel comfortable. He’d assumed it was just a tipsy whim of hers since she’d never appeared particularly predisposed to dance much herself. He’d been enjoying the evening, drinking enough for a pleasant buzz but not enough to lose his judgment or inhibitions. He’d had a good time talking and laughing with her and making ironic observations about the wedding attendees.