Page 2 of Friend Zoned

Jeannie looks around and rolls her eyes. “Well, then go do the Lord’s work, Mom.”

“I have to because you’ve given up.” Her mom grabs another drink from a server and says, “I’m having so much fun.”

The older woman limps away, and Jeannie seems to exhale in relief at her departure. She looks around and our eyes lock again, but she blushes and breaks the stare much too quickly. She moves to the back row of white chairs and takes a seat. She rummages through her purse, and I expect her to pull out her phone, but she surprises me. She pulls out a book. I can’t see the title or cover from here, but my interest is piqued yet again. She opens it, flips through a few pages, and looks down. I know the exact moment when she tunes everything out and focuses on the words in her book, and I make it my mission to find out what she’s reading before she leaves here tonight.

Chapter 2

Jeannie

The big man with the soulful eyes sits across the aisle from me. He looks like he’s from another time, as if he belongs in one of those Viking movies, killing and pillaging. He has long, dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. Despite looking like a savage, he has a warmth to him that I can feel all the way over here.

But I’m not here to look for a man. I’m here because my mother doesn’t like to drive at night, and she needs me as her personal chauffeur. The last place I want to be is at a wedding, despite the posh surroundings and the unlimited drinks. I’d rather be at home, on my couch snuggled under a warm blanket. Alone.

That’s how I’ve spent most of my Saturday nights since I threw out my ex-husband’s belongings and changed the locks. What I found out that morning was the final straw after three years of a bad marriage. Eight years of being together. Eight years of jabs and insults so subtle, I didn’t recognize them for what they were. Well-constructed words for the sole purpose of dismantling my self-esteem. That was bad enough, but the affair with my friend was the end.

It was a double betrayal. My husband and my friend. The one who promised to forsake all others and someone I was close to since college. The same one I shared my marital problems with.

My marriage to Quintin Gardner was over the moment I found out, and there was no going back, but when he realized no amount of begging or pleading was going to fix our marriage, he suddenly became the injured party, and I was the vindictive woman unwilling to fix what was broken. When the divorce proceedings began, I wanted only to get out and get on with my life, but my lawyer, a very assertive woman, told me I wasn’t only being naïve, but stupid. In the end, the apartment his parents gave us when we got married became mine.

“Can you pretend to be having fun? Don’t think about that bonehead. You’re better off.” My mother jabs me in the ribs with her elbow. She snatches the book from my hand and closes it. I sigh, take it back, and open it. I twist away from her so she can’t grab it again. “There’s Mr. Colt,” she says. “I’m going to go say hello. Come with me.” I wave her off and mumble that I’ll be right there. She loves this Mr. Colt. He pays her well and gives her cash bonuses throughout the year. The bonuses have no rhyme or reason. He’ll hand her an envelope full of one-hundred-dollar bills for no reason at all. He has his driver take her home each day and has even sent him to pick her up sometimes. She was able to leave her other job and work only for him, making three times her salary before those cash bonuses. The only downside, if you can call it that, is that she has to be available whenever he needs her, but he’s very considerate of her time too.

According to my mom, Mr. Colt can do no wrong. I look up and wish I didn’t. She’s waving me over while she looks up at a very tall man. I slide the book back into my bag and stand slowly before going over to them. I feel eyes on me as I walk away, and when I turn my head quickly, my gaze collides with the savage looking Viking from a few feet away. His eyes linger on me, and I stop mid-step. Our eyes lock briefly, but I turn away from him just as quickly. He’s probably wondering why I’m dressed like a widow, but he’s in dark clothes too. A dark blue suit I’m sure was made just for him. His outfit is complete with a white shirt and a Dolce & Gabbana tie that costs no less than a thousand dollars. Whoever he is, he’s not broke, that’s for sure. He’s probably chuckling at my discount store outfit…as if I care about impressing anyone here.

“This is my daughter, Jeannie. Jeannie, this is Mr. Colt,” my mother says when I reach her. After she makes the introductions, I offer him my hand. He smiles at me, and I admit, he is very handsome, with dark curly hair, perfect teeth, and one dimple. I find myself smiling back.

Down, girl. You’re only here to drive your mother, not to bat your eyelashes at a man who’s about to be married.

When my brain starts to function again, I say, “Congratulations on your marriage,” And then stand there, feeling awkward and unsure of what else to say. I’d rather be anywhere else than at a stranger’s wedding, but he’s so good to my mother that I remain polite. One of his envelopes full of cash helped pay for my divorce lawyer.

“Welcome, Jeannie,” he says. He lets go of my hand.

I clear my throat. “Thank you for inviting us, and this is a beautiful house.” I feel like an idiot standing here. I’m relieved when his mother joins us. She’s a tall woman with a thick southern drawl. After he introduces her to me, she takes him away, and I feel relief at being done with uncomfortable small talk.

Soon after meeting my mother’s employer, I return to my seat and to my book but not for long. The wedding begins, and despite the civil ceremony my mother told me about, it’s an elegant and posh affair. Except for the rowdy group of men who sit next to the sexy Viking. They act like a bunch of immature frat boys sitting with an adult, and as I watch them, my mother elbows me in the ribs and tells me to pay attention as if I’m some five-year-old who got caught daydreaming in church. I instantly look straight ahead and wait for this to be over so I can drive my mother home.

The ceremony is simple yet elegant. The groom cries as the bride walks down the aisle on her father’s arm, draped in a white mink coat, but other than those few details, I tune out and think of all the things I need to do while the two ministers perform the ceremony. I have tomorrow off, but I’m slowly transforming my apartment and purging Quintin’s aura from the place. The divorce has been final for about a year now, but it’s taken me this long to start living fully. I moved out of the house we shared once everything was done, but I couldn’t find it in me to move into the apartment I got in the divorce. I stayed in my childhood home for six months until I finally decided it was time to be an adult again.

I shove all thoughts of my ex-husband away. He’ll get no more of my time. I let my mind drift off to the other things I need to do at work. This is going to be a busy week since the hotel is hosting a weeklong seminar for hundreds of guests. By the time I go through a mental checklist of all my tasks, everyone in the room is clapping and the bride and groom are kissing passionately at the altar. The guests stand and cheer, including my mother who must be clapping the loudest. The frat boys from the aisle over are whooping at the top of their lungs, but not the sexy Viking. He stands, respectable and dignified as he claps those incredibly large hands.

Once the ceremony is over, we’re led into a beautiful and lavish ballroom. There are white roses everywhere, and the place is filled with about a million lights. Servers pass out drinks and hors d’oeuvres. There’s also a full bar, and right now I need something stronger than the pretty, festive drinks that are being served.

The bride and groom finally come out to applause. She has her arm wrapped possessively around his and her cheek on his bicep. It’s a simple, yet intimate gesture. In this moment, I’m reminded of everything I wanted when I married Quintin and everything that was missing all at once.

The happy couple works the room, and when it’s my turn, the bride surprises me when she takes me in a hug and thanks me for coming. She also gushes about my mother and how wonderful she is. I can’t argue with that. When it comes to moms, I hit the Mega Millions.

While my mother chitchats with the mother and brother of the groom, I approach the bar and order a rum. I take is straight, and after drinking the glass’s contents in one swallow, I look up and startle when I find myself staring into the eyes of the sexy Viking. Warmth spreads throughout my entire body, and I don’t know if it’s from the rum or the fire in his eyes. I walk away. I am not here for that. I’m not ready, and if I was, I wouldn’t be looking for a man here. I know this one is out of my league.

Dinner is a grand affair with the option of filet mignon with jumbo shrimp, Alaskan sea bass, or chicken. I get the filet and shrimp because I never turn down a decadent meal. Speeches are made, and the bride and groom glow with love. She’s stunning in all white, and it’s obvious he’s so proud to call her his wife. My mind flashes quickly to my own wedding. It was nowhere near as opulent as this, but he was about to start law school, and I had just graduated from SUNY Buffalo. It was a happy day. If only I knew what was ahead for us.

Once dinner is over and the wedding cake is served, dancing ensues, and I’m finally able to pull out my book and resume reading the chapter on self-love, which is the only love I’ve had for over two years. I find myself giggling, but I look around guiltily, ashamed that someone will read my dirty thoughts. Luckily, everyone is too busy having fun to pay attention to me. At least, I hope. I look around the room, searching for the Viking, but he’s talking to one of the tall frat guys. I can see his eye roll from here as the other guy gyrates wildly. It’s as if he’s asking a higher power for patience.

I avert my gaze and return to my book, tuning out the loud music and laughter while I focus on the words in front of me. A few minutes later, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and something tells me to look up. When I do, he’s looking at me again. He’s probably wondering why that weirdo dressed in all black is reading at a wedding. He offers me a smile, but I quickly avert my gaze. It takes me a few moments to refocus on the words on the page. Just as I’m getting into the flow again, I feel eyes looking down on me.

When I look up, Colt, his bride, and sexy Viking are standing over me. I slam the book shut, put it in my bag before they can read the title, and stand with a smile plastered on my face.

“Jeannie,” Vickie, the bride, says. She’s so beautiful with the happy newly married glow. “Have you met Colt’s coach, Aiden?”

Shocked by the question, I look around the room and hope my mother will come save me, but she’s too busy talking and laughing to bother noticing me. I clear my throat and offer him my hand. His large palm practically envelops it. When he lifts my knuckles to his lips and kisses them, I almost combust into flames. It’s been almost two years since I felt a man’s lips on any part of me. That must be why my body is short circuiting right now. But if I have a few more drinks, I’m going to drag him into a dark corner and have my way with him. I clear my throat and yank my hand away.

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