he picked up another one and did the same. People saw, I was sure, but neither of us cared. We were both too obsessed with the thought of what was going to happen the minute we were alone together tonight to care.
Because after nearly seven months of marriage, it was finally on.
There was dancing after dinner and though Lucas firmly declared that he was not a dancer, I coaxed him to try a few of the slow ones. He was a good dancer which surprised me not at all. He seemed to be the type of guy who was just good at whatever was required of him. Or at the very least, competent.
At one point several of his cousins came to chat. I took that as an excuse to go powder my nose—as they said in the Twenties. I heard one of them tell him, “Dude, your wife is a smokeshow. Lucky dog.”
Flattering as it was, I pretended not to hear, hit the ladies’ room and then lingered at the bar to give him a little time to catch up. Because we were leaving, soon. If I had to fake a goddamn twisted ankle or brain-pounding headache, we were so leaving here and taking our much-needed alone time.
I was in the middle of fantasizing about stripping every piece of that tux off his body when I sensed someone beside me. A dark-haired woman.
She was wearing seashell pink and silver. I turned and looked at Lucas’s ex as she openly gave me the once-, twice-, and thrice-over.
I sipped my drink and smiled. So here it was at last, my chance to do a little pest control. But I wasn’t going to be a bitch unless she was a bitch first.
The first rule of bitchiness. Don’t bitch first. But if bitched to, then don’t be afraid to go all-out bitch. Because she who bitches loudest and bitches best, bitches last.
I nursed my drink and pasted an innocent smile on my face while Claire continued her overt inspection. “All danced out?” she finally asked with what I supposed was an ironic laugh.
“Not yet but getting there.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. You actually got him to dance?” She scooped up her drink the moment it was placed on the bar before her, then made a faux-toast in my direction, drinking deeply of her martini. “Well, kudos to you if you’ve managed to thaw the great iceberg that is Lucas. Mr. Emotionally Unavailable himself.”
If, said with a heaping helping of skepticism. I sipped again, considering that. “I’ve never found him to be an iceberg. More like still waters running deep. He’s deep but if a person never bothers with what’s below the surface, they’d never know.”
She narrowed her eyes at me and finished off her martini the empty glass down and moving in closer, as if wanting to start a prolonged conversation. Hell to the no, this drink was almost finished, and I was leaving the minute the last drop hit my tongue.
She raised her chin, as if speaking as some kind of relationship authority. “Well, I wish you all the luck with the iceberg or the still waters or whatever. More luck than I ever had, believe me. I sincerely hope he’ll take better care of you than he did of me.” She placed a hand on her heart as if to emphasize that “sincerity.”
“Take care of you?” I stared at her in disbelief. “What, did you want a husband or a daddy? Thanks for the well wishes, but there’s no luck needed. I’m mad about him. Tot ziens.” I sucked down the rest of my drink, setting the glass down. And, because I’m a petty bitch, I added, “Ezel.”
She looked completely confused as she stared after me. Good.
Wow, no wonder Lucas thought he’d been a bad husband to her. Who in the world would put that kind of expectation on a nineteen-year-old kid? To “take care” of another fully grown—at least physically—adult? I couldn’t conceive of the idea of seeking a mate to parent me. I already had two parents, and they were mediocre at best. What a weird notion of marriage. I shook my head. She wasn’t even worth losing another thought over.
I found Lucas minutes later and whispered in his ear that I was about to twist my ankle terribly. I strongly urged him to get me out of here before that happened. I also managed to get my hand inside his tailcoat and run my nails down his back.