Garrett rolls his eyes. “Ah, man, you know Leslie. She started with ‘just a few close friends on the roof’ and we ended up with, well”—he motions at the surrounding space—“this.”
Garrett steers me toward the closest food station, where a woman is filling a plate with hors d’oeuvres, her back turned to us. “Get something to eat,” my friend says. “I’ve got to go welcome the newcomers.”
The woman turns, and her hostile brown eyes widen in recognition.
Miss Attorney looks different tonight. Her hair is loose in soft waves that reach to her shoulders, and she’s wearing a frilly blue dress, not one of her power suits.
If this was our first encounter, I’d even go as far as saying she’s beautiful. But I know better.
“Ah, Vivian,” Garrett says. “This is Luke, my best friend.”
Medusa’s lips curve in a taught smile. “We’ve met.”
“Of course.” Garrett swats himself. “Lee found you offices in the same building, right? Well, enjoy, I gotta get welcoming.”
Garrett rushes off, and I narrow my eyes at my ill-disposed neighbor. “Thirty-five years without seeing you once, and now a day can’t pass without the pleasure.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Medusa gives me another one of her petrifying stares, then walks away.
Good riddance.
I shuffle through the crowd, eating a few treats, drinking champagne, and making civil conversation with the other guests I know, until Garrett finds me again about forty-five minutes later.
“What do you think?”
I shrug at the surroundings. “Amazing party, man.”
“Not about the party.” He smacks me playfully. “About Leslie’s friend.”
“Who?”
Garrett waves a hand before my face. “Have you gone blind? Vivian. She’s hard to miss.”
Hard to miss, for sure. If I’m being objective, Medusa is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Dark brown hair, big Bambi eyes, and that heart-shaped mouth. Pity the more-than-pleasant appearance doesn’t come paired with an equally amiable temperament.
“Yeah, sorry, man, she’s not my type.”
“Really?”
I study my friend. “You seem hurt by the revelation. What’s up?”
Garrett hides half a grin. “Oh, nothing, it’s just that she’s single, you’re single, so Leslie and I thought…”
I scoff, while pocketing the information that, indeed, there’s no father in the family picture of my office neighbor.
“You’re not seriously trying to play matchmaker, are you?”
“Why not? She’s great, you’re great… We were just waiting for the right moment to introduce you guys.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And by the right moment, you mean…?”
Garrett stares out across the East River. “Once you were ready to date again.” He turns to look at me. “Are you? It’s been six months since Brenda left.”
I consider my answer for a second. Not a week ago, I promised myself I’d be more open to friends’ offers to match me up.
Not with the Wicked Witch of the West Office, though, a voice protests in my head.
Okay, maybe not her… But someone else? Why not?
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”
“That’s great, man.” Garrett pats me on the shoulder. “Listen, if you don’t want to ask Vivian out, you should try the dating agency that set me up with Leslie.”
“I said I was ready to try dating again, not search for a wife.”
On my other side, Leslie comes up to me, whispering, “Ah, but it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
I shrug. “Get me the good fortune, and then we can talk about the wife.”
“Such a material man,” a familiar voice comments from behind Leslie.
Garrett’s fiancée moves to the side to reveal Medusa in all her wicked glory.
“Oh, please,” Leslie says. “Luke is the soppiest romantic man on Earth.”
Brown eyes glint with amused malice. “Is he now?”
Leslie tsk-tsks at her friend. “As if you can talk.” Then, turning to me, she adds, “Put Vivi in front of a romantic movie and she’ll be crying within five minutes—even if it’s a comedy! She might even be more helplessly romantic than you.”
My turn to be smug. “Is that so, Vivi?” I wouldn’t have pegged her as having a romantic bone in her body.
From the petty way Medusa is looking at me, I’m sure she’d be happy to show me her tongue, but, not being a child, she settles for an annoying half-smirk.
“Why were you talking about wives, anyway?” Leslie asks, glancing curiously at her fiancé.
“I was telling Luke he should try our dating agency.”
“What a coincidence! Vivi just asked me for their information. You guys should go together.” Leslie pauses, and gives us a naughty look. Before we can protest, she grabs Garrett’s hand and pulls him away, saying, “Come on, honey, time to open the presents.”
And I’m alone with Medusa once again.
“The dating agency’s all yours,” I tell her. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to use it anyway.”
“Why?” She stares me down. “Afraid all the women would reject you?”
“Women like me just fine.”
“Is that why you’re single?”
The question cuts a little too close to the heart, so I get petty in return. “How can you be a helpless romantic when it’s literally your job to destroy marriages?”
She levels me with a stare that could kill. “When a client comes to me, their marriage has already been destroyed. My job is to make sure their partner doesn’t take advantage of them during the divorce proceedings, and to secure them the best post-marital life that I can.”
“And if you get to terrorize someone in the process, that’s just a bonus?”
“What are you talking about?”
“How about that poor man you made almost die of a heart attack the other day, all because he wanted to talk to his wife?”
“You do realize he basically ignored her for ten years, right? Way too little, way too late. Why does it always take you men losing something before you understand how much you care? And, anyway, you broke the elevator, not me. So, technically, it was you who almost gave Mr. Cavendish a heart attack.”
I’m about
