Oh Teddy. Look whats become of you. Marmee would be so disappointed.
Jo hadn't arrived to the party with great expectations of what was to come. True to the stereotype of quote on quote "high society fundraisers", the affair was stuffy, tacky, and...what was the word she was looking for?
Pretentious.
It was so very much the opposite of Laurie that Jo wanted to storm up to him, slap him hard across the face, smash the ice sculptures, chug some of the 100 dollars a glass champagne and storm out with her dignity.
Fortunately, the small part of Jo that wasn't bristling with untamed annoyance told her that if she did manage to live out that delightful fantasy, she would very likely lose her job and would spend the next years of her life writing gardening tips and eating watered down soup. The thought of being subjected to chicken broth for the rest of her career allowed her to calm herself just enough to slump down and keep writing.
Just as Jo was about to lose the last of her dignity and ask what brand of high heels the mayor's wife was wearing, she was saved by a sudden burst of chatter and the crowd of people that began to surge towards the back .
Him again.
Jo had wondered about what this moment would be like. The earlier glance had brought no results, but she still contemplated a turn of events. In her fantasy, Laurie would shove through the crowed, handsome and charming as ever, dancing through the throngs until he would slam to a stop, right in front of her, and pull her into a hug that she had missed for so long.
Perhaps a kiss...
As soon as Jo had gotten another glimpse of the younger Mr. Laurence, however, she knew that fantasy was but a fancy, a lost dream that would never happen. Jo had known him too well and too long not to notice that every laugh was faked, every smile was forced, every glance calculating those around him.
Jo was disgusted.
Screw the interview . Screw...screw him. Yeah. I'm out of here.
Tugging her coat high up to her chin, Jo began to stomp away with as much dignity as she could muster, when all of a sudden, the man who had filled her dreams since that fateful day in the park blocked her way.
"Good evening, Ms. March."
A faint flush flared across Jo's cheek.
Ms. March! Not Jo, not even Josephine.
Ah, it's own now, Theodore. Time of his own medicine, very rightfully deserved.
"Hello Master Laurence. It's been a long time." Sarcasm was practically dripping from Jo's mouth.
"Yes...yes it has."
Jo cranked up her grin to mega watt.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
Laurie's raised an eyebrow.
"You could say that I am."
Jerk.
"Oh yes, Mr. Laurence. I can see that just fine. Now if you don't mind." Shaking her curls, she stomped away, shoving past dignitaries and fellow reporters and almost tripping a waiter holding a tray laden with champagne.
Don't mind if I do.
Grabbing two flutes, Jo continued her warpath the door, chugging a gulp back every few feet. She had almost reached her destination when a hand pulled her from the crowd and yanked her, quite roughly, through a tapestry. She was just about to toss the drink in her attacker's face when she found herself face to face with the man she had who had sneered at her only minutes before.
Laurie placed his hands forcefully around Jo's waist, pulling her hard against him so that she was pressed tightly between him and the wall. Leaning in close, his heavy breath danced across Jo's cheek.
"Jo, oh Jo. There is so, so much, that you don't understand."