Page 10 of Good as Gold
“Uh-huh. Don’t look now,” Benito says. “But Leila Giltmaker is giving you the evil eye.”
“Oh, where?” I lift my chin and look for her. “I owe both of them an apology.”
“Both of them?” Benito asks.
“Yeah. Her and Rory. Where are they?”
“Huh,” Benito says. Then he claps me on the shoulder. “This is going to be interesting.”
Before I can ask why, Leila appears at my elbow. She holds out a hand, as if to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Leila, friend of the bride and ex-friend of one of the groom’s brothers. The brother who disappeared and never came back and stopped replying to my texts right around the time that texts were invented.”
“So it’s going to be like that. All right.” I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Leila Giltmaker. I’m Matteo.”
“But we call him Designer Jesus,” Benito says.
That’s when I tug her forward and pull her into a hug. “Hi, honey. I’msorry, okay? I’m a terrible person and a total idiot. I’m sorry I didn’t call you or come home.”
My apology is going well until I make a fatal error, which is to inhale. Her perfume smells like oranges and flowers, and the heat of her body against mine stirs a longing inside me that I haven’t felt in a long time.
Stepping back, I take a look at her expression. Still grumpy. But maybe a little confused too. “Damn it all. I didn’t expect you to actually apologize. If I stay mad now, I’m a bitch, right? Well played.”
Benito laughs. “Infuriating, isn’t he?”
I don’t need his commentary, so I take Leila’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor, where the four-piece band is playing their first slow song.
She doesn’t immediately cooperate. She stares at me for another beat, before finally slipping a hand onto my shoulder. “You weren’t even in the wedding program,” she says. “Last minute addition?”
“Actually, yes.” I sway to the music and smile at her. The song is “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, and the band does it well. Good pick for a wedding, but I’m dying a little inside.
During high school, I never once asked Leila for a slow dance. I didn’t think I could take three minutes in close contact like this—not without revealing how I felt about her.
And, yup. Torture. Her deep brown eyes at close range. The pretty dress. The soft lighting.
Then I realize that she’s asked me a question, and I’ve forgotten to answer it. “I, uh, decided it was time to come home. Bought a last-minute ticket and showed up last night at the bachelor party.”
“Oh.” She gazes up at me, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion. “I see. Surprised they even recognized you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re not the only one to tell me I’m a dingus. You’re not even the meanest. Maybe you should try harder. Just a suggestion.”
Her mouth twitches again. But then she sighs. “I’m awfully mad at you.”
“I imagine.” I twirl her around in a circle. “You look amazing, though. This dress is fire.” My gaze dips briefly to her cleavage, because I’m only human. “Guess I shouldn’t say that. Rory will probably slug me. Where is he, anyway?” I drag my gaze away from temptation and scan the crowd.
No Rory. Huh. When I look back at Leila, she’s narrowed her eyes at me. “He isn’t here. I doubt he was invited.”
“Oh.” That’s odd. “No plus-ones allowed?” That doesn’t sound like May and Alec at all. Unless the fire marshal gave this room a strict capacity.
Leila stares. “You really have been gone a while.”
“Yeah, I think I just apologized for that. What’s your point?”
“Matty, IleftRory. I didn’t bring him to the wedding because we’re no longer married.”
“You…what?” I stammer. Because I could swear she just said they broke up.
“Our divorce was final a week ago. I’d assumed everybody knew that, since he had a drunken meltdown in the middle of the Gin Mill the night it was finalized. He sat at the bar and cried. Everybody is talking about it.”
“Oh,” I say as my mind tries to come to grips with this news. So many things make more sense right now—like the way people keep asking me if I heard about the divorce and saying things like,your timing is so interesting.
