22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au
"I now declare you husband and wife!"
The wedding guests cheer and Liz joins them reluctantly, managing with considerable difficulty not to roll her eyes.
Long live the happy couple, Liz thinks with disgust.
She watches as Tom, her cheating ex-husband, and Jolene, the home-wrecker he cheated with, turn to beam at the guests in their folding chairs. They raise their linked hands in celebration before walking up the makeshift aisle of their backyard wedding. Liz personally thinks it's a little sloppy, but she supposes they had to go cheap, considering it's Tom's second wedding.
And Jolene's third.
Liz stands with the friends and family of the bride and groom, watching and listening as they break off into groups and gush about the new couple, leaving Liz feeling very much like an outsider. If it hadn't been for the frilly invitation she received in the mail, written in Jolene's girlish handwriting – seriously, what self-respecting female over the age of fourteen draws little hearts over their i's? – than Liz wouldn't have come to this stupid excuse for a wedding at all.
But she does have a sense of dignity.
And the invitation was clearly a taunt from Jolene, who took far too much pride in stealing Tom away from her when she was about ready to get a divorce anyway, and Liz couldn't stand thinking of her smug expression as she put the invitation in the mail, fully expecting Liz to make some half-hearted excuse and not show up.
Over Liz's dead body.
So, to prove a point, Liz decided to don her short, blue dress, complete with silver heels and matching clutch, and go to her ex-husband's second wedding.
Without a plus one of her own.
And now she needs the bar.
Liz works her way through the small crowd, now milling around in the large backyard, waiting patiently for their turn to congratulate the newlyweds. Liz suppresses a scoff at the thought of standing in front of Tom and Jolene, gritting her teeth and plastering a smile on her face, and gives them a wide berth, heading instead to the large table set up under the oak tree at the back of the yard that is serving as the bar.
Liz is evidently the first guest with this idea, causing the bored-looking bartender manning the table to straighten up as she approaches.
"What can I get you?" he asks genially.
But before Liz can answer, a man is sidling up to the bar next to her, looking almost as miserable as she feels, leaning both arms on the table and not waiting for the bartender to ask.
"Double scotch on the rocks."
Liz's eyebrows raise at the curt order, but the bartender doesn't seem taken aback. He just nods quickly and turns back to her.
"And for you, ma'am?"
"An aviation cocktail, please."
The bartender nods once again and goes off to make their drinks. Liz glances over at the man who so rudely took the attention of the bartender away from her. He is handsome, middle-aged, and well-dressed in a grey suit and blue tie.
(His tie matches her dress. What a weird coincidence.)
And he's looking at her.
"Aviation cocktail, huh?" he says to her. "Good choice."
"Thanks," she says back, surprised that he's talking to her. "It's a favorite of mine."
He nods in easy agreement. "Tastes like spring, doesn't it?"
Liz smiles despite herself. "Yeah," she murmurs. "I'd go for a scotch like you, I could certainly use it, but hard liquor tends to go straight to my head."
The man turns fully to face her, his face brightening as he takes her in. "Mine too," he agrees. "But, in this situation, I couldn't ask for anything better. This is the last place I want to be."
"Ha!" Liz barks a sarcastic laugh. "Join the club."
The bartender returns then with their drinks, a small glass with amber liquid for the man and a tall wine glass with crimson liquid in it for Liz.
The two of them go straight for the alcohol by unspoken agreement, postponing their conversation for a moment. It's only when Liz has taken several grateful gulps from her glass and the man has downed half his scotch that he turns back to her.
"I bet I have it worse than you," he says ruefully, raising his eyebrow in challenge.
"Oh yeah?" Liz can feel hysterical giggles beginning to bubble up in her chest. "Wanna bet?"
The man chuckles in response. "Sure, what'll it be? Another drink?"
"Deal," Liz says immediately. She'll need all the alcohol she can get her hands on. "You first."
"Okay," the man says, obviously confident. "I'm a former co-worker of the groom's mother. The last time I saw her was about…ten years ago. And today's the first day I've clapped eyes on her son. I truly don't know why I was invited, I think it may have been a mistake."
Liz nods sympathetically. "That's rough," she allows, and he nods solemnly. "But I think I've got you beat."
His eyebrows simply raise in question. "Do your worst."
"I'm the scorned ex-wife of the groom."
He winces immediately, his confident expression melting off his face in an instant. "Oh dear," he murmurs. "And the bride, is she –?
"The woman he left me for? One and the same."
"Ah," he grimaces. "Yes, you win, hands down. Another cocktail, please!" he calls down the bar to the now busy bartender, who nods in acknowledgement. "Why did you come then, if you don't mind me asking?"
Liz shrugs. "There's no secret to it. What would I look like if I didn't show up to my ex-husband's second wedding, which I was explicitly invited to in what would seem a gesture of good faith?"
"Petty and weak?"
"Bingo," Liz says, draining her glass and pushing it towards the other side of the bar. "Even if the aforementioned 'gesture of good faith' is actually a cruel jab from the vindictive new wife."
The man nods unhappily. "A rock and a hard place," he murmurs sympathetically.
(A handsome man who sees her plight. At her ex-husband's wedding. How unusual.)
The bartender reappears to slide a fresh cocktail towards Liz, whisking away the empty glass without a word.
"Hence, the alcohol," Liz says with a grin that feels more like a grimace, raising her glass to the kind man who just bought her the drink. "Thank you, by the way."
"It's my pleasure, uh…?" he trails off, clearing asking for Liz's name.
She swallows her mouthful before hastening to answer. "Liz."
"Lizzie," he finishes with a kind smile. "I only wish I could do more."
It's at that moment that the DJ starts up, playing some god awful, gag-worthy romance song as Tom and Jolene take to the small square of the yard that's been designated the dance floor. Liz can't stop herself from actually rolling her eyes this time, taking another sip of her drink to fortify herself.
The mystery man at the bar next to her watches the dancing couple for a moment before looking down thoughtfully at his own glass. Liz watches as he comes to some sort of decision before he throws back the remainder of his scotch in one smooth gesture and turns to her.
"Actually, perhaps I can," he says tentatively. "May I ask you to dance, Lizzie?"
Liz blinks in surprise, looking curiously at his outstretched hand and then back to his earnest eyes.
(Maybe she should trust this handsome, understanding man with the blue tie. He can't be worse than Tom. And she has a good feeling about him.)
"Yes, I think you can, uh…?" she trails off the same way he did, asking for his name.
"Raymond," he supplies helpfully.
"Raymond," she smiles. "I think that would be nice."
Liz sets her half empty cocktail on the bar and takes Raymond's waiting hand, letting herself be escorted to the dancefloor by a man who clearly isn't her cheating ex-husband.
Maybe this stupid excuse for a wedding won't be so bad.
And maybe she won't need as much alcohol as she thinks.
Because maybe she has a plus one after all.
