Free Borrow-A-Bridesmaid by Anne Wagener

there?” I ask softly, thinking about his mom’s strained questions at the rehearsal dinner. “They want you to take over the family business or something?”
    â€œBingo.” His gaze drop to the bottom of his wineglass. “My parents are practical people. They’re waiting for me to get over this screenwriting phase.”
    I sip my wine, sensing his discomfort and shifting closer to him. “Well, my parents don’t own a business or anything, but they spent the better part of their life savings on my college education. And then I went ahead and became an airport bookseller.”
    A disco ball descends from the ceiling, luring more people to the dance floor. Sparks of light shimmy across Charlie’s wineglass. He touches the lip of his glass against mine, so that our knuckles brush. “That’s where you started, not where you arrived. It’s only the first stop.”
    â€œThanks for reminding me. I guess it feels like I’ve been there forever. I know I do other things and go other places, but it feels like I always wind up back in front of the register. Like I’m in a time loop.” I tell him my theory about the airport as the Divine Comedy ’s limbo.
    He slips an arm around my waist and draws me closer. “Spoiler alert—Dante makes it to paradise.”
    â€œYeah, after descending through hell and clambering over a three-headed Satan.”
    â€œHey, it’ll give you plenty to write about.”
    We chuckle as an old man begins doing disco moves to “Stayin’ Alive.” I start to tap my foot but stop as pain shoots through my calf. Curse you, heels .
    As Charlie swirls his wine, I catch a hint of its sensuous, fruity odor. I can smell Charlie, too, cologne and aftershave and soap. Even when I sip my wine, my peripheral vision won’t let go of him.
    As I drain the last drop, he releases my waist and holds out his hand for my glass. “What’ll it be next?”
    I raise my eyebrows. “More wine, I think.”
    â€œClassy.” He winks, turning back toward the bar. Halfway en route, his wine expedition is hijacked by a trio of elderly aunties. One of them pinches his cheek while another starts talking a mile a minute, gesticulating wildly with her hands. The third looks stoned.
    Charlie peers over their heads to offer me an apologetic glance. I should have known I wouldn’t have him all to myself tonight. I slink back to the table, drowning my sorrows in a second piece of cake.
    Susan appears a moment later, swishing toward me in her dress. Her cheeks are flushed, and she seems faintly tipsy. “Piper! I have to get back to family in a sec, but—wow! You and Charlie?”
    I flush, not sure how much to say.
    She gives me a knowing look. “I can always tell when my brother is smitten. Even with Wedding Brain, I noticed at family brunch this morning that Charlie seemed different. He didn’t even touch the cheese kuchen—it’s his favorite—he just sat at the table and smiled the whole time like a jackass. Once Mom and Dad left, I got it out of him.” She frowns. “Where’d he go, anyway?”
    I nod toward the triumvirate of aunties.
    Susan narrows her eyes at them before turning back to me. “You sit tight.” She swishes across the room and within seconds has pulled all three aunties onto the dance floor. The stoned one comes alive to “Everybody Dance Now” as her arms bend up into a robot dance. The other two sashay around Susan.
    Charlie, thus liberated, arrives by my side a minute later, glass extended. “Wanna go outside?”
    The cool evening breeze encircles us as we exit the hall, playing with strands of my hair that have escaped from their hair-spray-and-bobby-pin prison. One strand glances the top of Charlie’s ear. He offers me a cigarette with his free hand. I take it, though I haven’t smoked since college.
    He lights it for me,