Page 3 of Van Cort

“Oh, I see.” I smile. “Bride.”

The man’s dressed in a smart suit, complete with a pocket handkerchief, but he’s clearly had a few drinks already from the look of his glazed eyes.

I dip my head and let my hair serve as a curtain to block our contact.

“Can I get you another? I’d love to buy you a drink.”

“Oh, you know, I’m not sure if that’s—” I try to back out politely.

“No, I won’t hear it.” He lifts his hand and indicates for another round before I can turn him down.

“Okay. Just a quick drink.” I realise I can’t really say I’m leaving if I’m here as a guest, but I’ll figure a way out of this later.

The scrape of the barstool has the few people in the room turning towards us, but he seems unbothered as he moves to sit right next to me.

“Wow, you are gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” I dip my head again, regretting agreeing already. I take the glass from the waiter and don’t put it back down, hoping to drink it in record time.

“Totally over the top if you ask me. But that’s Max. Or maybe it’s the wife. Already flexing her muscles in the relationship.” He laughs at his own joke.

I twist away from him and take a gulp. Thankfully, the bar is filling up, so my exit plan is looking easier with every minute.

He continues to prattle on, and I smile, nod and drink, all whilst realising that the wine will go straight to my head but past caring.

“Thank you for the drink. I really must go and find Eleanor.”

“Eleanor?”

“Oh, a friend from school. She’s around here somewhere.” I indicate to the group of people who are coming in.

“And I haven’t even got your name. You can’t leave me like this.”

“Thank you for the drink,” I repeat.

“Why not stay for another? Eleanor can join us. The more the merrier.”

“No, thank you.” I stand to leave, but his hand clamps down on mine on the bar.

“We’ve got all night.”

“The lady said no,” a man’s voice cuts in, drawing both our attention.

He’s tall, well over six feet, wearing an immaculate tux, his hair pitch black.

“Alright, relax, man. Just trying to have some fun.”

“I suggest you go seek it elsewhere.” He turns to the drunk, leaving no space for misinterpretation. Even I want to shrink into my chair a little.

I watch as the guy staggers off his seat and heads in the other direction, mumbling as he goes.

My saviour keeps his head facing forward, his hands leaning him on the bar.

“Thank you. Truly.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Could I, um, could I buy you a drink as a thank you?”

He tilts his head to the side, and there’s a slight grin on his lips. “I’ll take a club soda. But didn’t drinking with strange men at the bar get you into your previous position in the first place?”

“You are correct,” I admit. “But something tells me we should be safe with two club sodas.” I order our drinks, mindful of what my hero just said and knowing that a third glass of wine on an empty stomach is only going to end in more of a problem.

“Cheers.” I raise my glass to his. “To the happy couple,” I add on, keeping up the facade. He lifts, and we clink glasses. “Thank you again. I’m Andie, by the way.”

“A pleasure, Andie. Everett Van Cort.”

That name sounds like he belongs in a hotel like this, at a wedding like this. The absent thought that he can see through my designer suit and tell that I don’t, trips through my brain.

It’s always there, that inner doubt, just waiting to bring me down. After all these years.

I clasp the glass and take another sip.

“Who in the world holds their wedding in the afternoon on a weekday,” he moans.

“A couple who want the lavish finery of a wedding such as this, without the price tag that would come with it on another day,” I ramble. It’s all the same with these people. It’s a show. Keeping up the appearance at all costs.

He doesn’t answer, and I wonder if I’ve said something to offend. Or overshared.

“Not a fan of weddings?” I ask.

“Not especially. You?”

“I haven’t been to one for quite some time.”

We’re interrupted by a loud bell, and we both turn to see a man in a top hat and tails enter. “The bride and groom request the pleasure of your company in the Ballroom.”

“I think that’s my cue.” I slip from my seat. “Time to leave.”

Everett’s eyes narrow on me. “Did you not hear the very formal announcement? If we could leave early, believe me, I would.”

“Confession, I only came in here for a drink after a bad day. I didn’t realise I would be crashing a wedding.”

He smirks and looks me over, and I can’t hide the embarrassment creeping over my cheeks. “Well, that explains the suit.”

He tilts his head at me, somehow scrutinizing my features for far too long without showing an inch of emotion, and eventually reaches into his pocket and pulls something out to put it on the bar.

I eye it and then him.

And with a very deliberate move, he slides it over to me.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Andie.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Not what I was expecting. “Um, what was it you said about the dangers of drinking with strange men?”

“That’s not what I said, and I’m not a stranger anymore. I’d like to take you to dinner. Tomorrow.” It’s the edge of command in his voice. Or perhaps how pretty his pale green eyes are.

I dip my head, and my hair spills over my face. The black card is there, on the bar, and my fingers can’t help but reach for it. A gold embossed V and C decorate one side. I wouldn’t be surprised if the same insignia is on the gold ring on his little finger.

“Thank you. I’ll, umm, see you tomorrow.”

And with that, he stands and heads for the exit along with a few other wedding guests. I keep watching until he’s out of sight.

Wow.

Maybe today wasn’t a complete disaster.