Scot on the Rocks

“Obviously, you’ve figured it out by now,” I said, keeping a smile plastered on my face so that anyone who saw us would think we were just two regular wedding guests, dancing around and having a pleasant conversation. Not a cheating cad and his ex having a most decidedly unpleasant conversation.

“And, obviously, you have completely lost your mind.”

“I’m not the one who flew out to L.A. to stalk me,” I said.

“I was invited to this wedding,” he informed me.

“I kind of thought it was assumed that you were uninvited when you announced that you were sleeping with someone else, were getting engaged to said other woman, and then threw me out of our apartment.”

“I was trying to be romantic, coming out here and surprising you,” he said, turning his eyes on. The earnest eyes. The “would I lie to you?” eyes. Did he really think that after all that we’d been through, I would fall for the eyes?

“Well, you’ve partially succeeded. I certainly am surprised.”

“Aren’t you at all happy to see me?” he asked.

“Well, seeing you again at least gives me the chance to tell you that I never want to speak to you again,” I said with a smile. Mr. and Mrs. Martin could see me from across the dance floor and I didn’t want to give them any cause for concern. Mrs. Martin waved at me. I smiled and waved back at her.

“Brooke, you can’t mean that. There’s not even a little part of you that’s happy to see me?” He was obviously getting desperate, now turning the sad puppy eyes on. Once upon a time, that look used to work on me, too. I used to think that he really meant it and would forgive him for whatever he’d done. Now, I just saw it for what it was — manipulation to keep me under his control. I was surprised at how quickly he had lost his effect on me. It was as if I could turn it on and off the way you would change the channel on a particularly bad made-for-TV movie.

“You. Are. Fucking. Wearing. Pants.”

“I thought that you wanted me to,” he said.

“I do. I did,” I quickly corrected.

“Well, then, better late than never, I say.”

“Look, if this were only about the pants, this probably would be a very touching gesture, but the fact remains that it is not,” I said.

“We’ve broken up,” he told me. I wondered why he was informing me of this very, very obvious fact. Did he think that I hadn’t noticed that we’d broken up? Did he think that I thought that people who were still an item kicked each other out of their apartments and got engaged to other people? Did he think that people who weren’t broken up were busy making out with their best friends at their ex-boyfriend’s weddings? Were people accusing us of still dating and this was why he was pointing out that we had, in fact, broken up to me?

“Yes, I’m painfully aware,” I said.

“No, not us. I mean…” He stammered. Stammering. Poor lost little boy manipulative trick number 732. It’s a matched pair with the eyes. I’ve been a bad boy. So bad that I can’t even cough out the words. Hugh Grant — hooker — Jay Leno show — enough said.

“What?” I asked.

He continued stammering and batting his long eyelashes as Vanessa and Jack came up next to us, dancing.

“Mind if we cut in?” Vanessa asked. “I’d like a dance with my husband,” she said, accentuating the word husband in case any other wedding guests could hear us.

“Of course!” I cried out before Douglas could articulate his dissent.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked the second I was back in his strong arms.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. “Now that I’m with you.”

“What the hell is going on?” he whispered, pulling me closer. “What is he doing here?”

“I have no idea,” I said, taking advantage of the opportunity to put my face close to his. I could smell my own perfume on his neck and I smiled and thought about the bridal suite.

“Did you know he was coming?” he asked me, pulling his face back. Before I could answer (my response was going to be a very witty: “I didn’t know what Douglas was doing when we were living together, so I certainly don’t know what he is doing now”), we had somehow switched partners and I found myself face-to-face with Douglas again.

“Darling,” he said. Douglas always called me darling. I used to love how it sounded with his accent: dah-ling.

“Don’t call me that,” I said, looking over his shoulder at Jack and Vanessa. Jack was looking over Vanessa’s shoulder at me. I smiled at him.

“Look, we’ve called off the wedding. Brooke, darling, I’ve made a huge mistake. I only hope that it’s not too late to fix things,” he said.

Too late to fix things? It was too late to fix things when we were still in the relationship. Only I didn’t know it then. The emperor really doesn’t have any clothes on, but all along I was thinking that he had on a custom-made Italian suit.

Jack was right — I needed to concentrate more on what things really were, and not just what they looked like. Regardless of how Douglas looked, on the inside, he was a lying cheat. And I was too good for that. Jack, on the other hand, had a wonderful inside. It just so happened that he had a wonderful outside, too. Not like I care about that superficial stuff anymore or anything.

As Douglas stood there, faking tears and confessing his love to me, I realized that this relationship was never really real — it was something I had created in my head and had chosen to believe in. Even after two years of being together, living together, I have had more meaningful relationships with certain pairs of shoes.

“I love you,” he continued. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never meant to hurt you. Marry me. Let’s pick up where we left off.”

I could hardly believe my ears. Douglas was coming back to me. And asking me to marry him, to boot. It was all I had ever wanted, only I didn’t want it anymore.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” I said as he leaned in to kiss me, presumably to prove his deep love and affection. He moved back, the shock of a woman actually saying no to him registering on his face.

“Darling, I love you. Haven’t you heard what I’m saying to you?”

“Yes, but it’s that —”

Before I could finish the thought, he grabbed my face and kissed me. Hard.

No response to what I was trying to say, he just kissed me. Apparently he thought that a kiss from him would answer my questions. It did not. He kissed me and held me to him and it was a struggle to release myself from his grasp.

He had his hands on either side of my face and I couldn’t pull away. My only thought was that Jack would help release me from Douglas’s grip, but as I opened my eyes all I could see from the corner of my eye was Jack storming off the dance floor.

23

After what seemed like an eternity, I pushed Douglas and his cheating lips away from me and hit him in the chest. Hard.

The singer finished her song and the crowd stopped dancing to applaud. Douglas and I stood there like strangers amid the other happy wedding guests, the only ones not applauding. We were face-to-face, but neither of us said a word. The bandleader invited the crowd to sit down to enjoy the main course.

Douglas turned and grabbed Vanessa — who was standing behind us wide-eyed after witnessing the kiss — and made his way to our table with her. I spun around and tried to find Jack, but he was no longer on the dance floor and he wasn’t at our table. As the dance floor cleared, I spotted him across the room at the bar.

I walked over to the bar where Jack was surrounded by what can only be described as a bevy of young women. Single young women. I wondered if they were all clients of Trip’s or friends of Ava’s. They were all clearly