Dean was late. The reception had already started. When he walked inside the big hall, people were no longer sitting at the tables but they were mostly on the floor, dancing. The band was playing a song he didn't know, but it was one of those annoying romantic ballads. Now what, he thought to himself. He searched the room for somebody he'd know. It was surprisingly hard to locate those few people. But he spotted the bride and, by his assumption, the groom wouldn't be far away. That proved right. Josh was right next to . . . Dean couldn't take his eyes off the bride. God, was she gorgeous. She always looked beautiful but today she was really stunning. Maybe it was because of the enormous white dress and the long veil, which both, in connection with her natural supernatural – meant in a good way – look, made her look like a princess. But that was enough of longing for something he couldn't have. Dean didn't really want her either, not in any other than animalistic way.
His eyes were hard to control in the room full of young and attractive women, many of whom were models – just as the bride – but Dean did his best to focus on something else. Like the man of the hour. Dean walked briskly, making his way through the crowd, taking a glass of champagne along the way. He took one sip, but as he really liked the taste, he drank it all. At least he could get rid of the glass and continue with free hands.
Right now Josh was sitting at the table, talking to his best man, who Dean had never seen before. Dean realized he knew too few people to actually enjoy this place. But he came and it would be weird to leave now. Besides, he didn't come because of the wedding.
"Josh!" Dean in an instant created a beautiful fake smile on his face.
Clearly Josh was surprised to see him there. "Dean, great to see you." He was glad, though, despite of the surprise. He stood up and invited Dean to come sit beside him; why to talk with table separating them.
"Nah, I just wanted to say what a beautiful," he purposely overstressed that word, "wife you have. Congrats, man."
"Thanks, and hey!" Josh acted offended. "You came just now?"
"Yeah. I missed the ceremony." While talking, Dean was paying less and less attention to the man he was talking to. The room seemed to be distracting him because he kept looking around. "Do you know where's your sister?"
Josh laughed. "I could have thought you'd be more interested in her than in me. Even at my wedding, she's number one, isn't she?"
Dean grinned at him.
"I'm really sorry, but I haven't seen her."
Dean had one more question on his mind. "But . . . she's here, isn't she?" If she wasn't, being here would be pointless.
"She should be around." That information relieved Dean.
But if she was there, she had made a great job at hiding from his view. But Dean was determined to find her. Even if she were just a needle in the hay, even if it was to take several hours to detach her from the crowd, sooner or later he had to spot that girl with hair like a flame.
No. There was nobody with red hair; at least not anywhere near him. Maybe if he stopped moving around. If he sat down and patiently waited. There was an empty chair from which he could get a good view on the whole place. Dean didn't care who it belonged to. He would sit there for just a minute, he justified it to himself.
His eyes kept on searching. He was so focused that he didn't notice when an older woman sat down next to him. "Are you a friend of the groom or the bride?" she asked in a sweet voice of fairy; or that of a loving grandmother.
"Groom," Dean uttered, still looking away.
"Me too. Josh is my nephew." Dean briefly looked at the woman and smiled to avoid looking hostile. "Isn't it wonderful how you always find that one right person for you?"
Oh, God, Dean sighed covertly. Not this kind of conversation, he said to himself.
She continued speaking, in her typical slow way, "Are you married?"
"No."
"Have you found that special person yet?"
Dean looked at her, showing that he was paying attention to her, but he didn't answer.
"You don't like talking about serious issues, do you? But I am sure that you think about them. You're at a wedding. When you see your friends getting married, you wonder where you are heading with your life."
"I have time for that," Dean replied.
"You remind me of my other nephew, Levi."
Dean grinned. Yeah, that may have been true. Levi was a womanizer kind of guy. He had had a number of serious relationships, but settling down? Getting married? That was out of question, at least for now.
"I know him," admitted Dean. "He's a good guy."
"He has the horns of a devil, but the heart of an angel," said the woman.
Dean went back to searching the room. He thought that maybe the woman would leave – or at least stop talking – if she saw that he wasn't that interested in this discussion.
"I know that now Levi rejects the idea of getting married, but I'm sure in a year or two we'll be sitting at his reception. Are you two good friends?" she wanted to know.
"Yes."
"How do you know the Morgan family?"
That was something she didn't need to know, Dean thought to himself. Fortunately, she didn't seem to demand that answer. She got distracted by hearing a song she liked and forgot about the question.
"Do you dance?" she asked.
"No."
"Dear lord, where did men stop dancing? Dance is a great ice-breaker, you know?"
He nodded awkwardly.
The lady shook her head. "I believe that if you were with an interesting girl, you would dance." Dean had to smile. She wasn't far from truth. "Let's find you one." Now she became the one looking around, trying to find that person for Dean.
"I'm okay right here," Dean opposed.
"Dear, if you saw this girl . . . She is the sister of the groom."
"Cassie," Dean was faster to say her name.
"So you know her?"
"A little," Dean lied.
"Take her out to dance. Maybe when you get to know each other better –"
Dean didn't let her finish. "I don't think so. But do you know where she is?" Dean used the opportunity to ask.
"She's got to be here somewhere. I haven't seen her for a while. I think she's avoiding me."
Why would that be, Dean asked sarcastically, but in his mind only.
Then the woman reflected, "I wish we'd find ourselves at her wedding soon. But she hasn't been quite lucky in her love life."
"Really?" Now that caught Dean's interest.
"I keep telling her that if she wants to find someone, she needs to look for that person, not wait passively until her prince on a white horse comes." Dean laughed, because he thought it was expected of him. "She has to go out on dates."
"She's not into dating?" Dean asked.
"No. Would you believe that in the past two years she's been only out with two or three boys? She almost got serious with the last one, but then something happened between them. I don't know what; she never told me."
"When was that?" He got suspicious.
"Months ago," she said with exaggerated emphasis. "And she's been single ever since."
Dean would bet that he was the Cassie's last guy. That information was not that easy to process. Not many boyfriends in the last years, and when came the one that could have stayed for longer, she let him go.
"You know what?" Dean suddenly spoke again, while standing up. Looking in the eyes of the woman, he said, "I'm gonna go dance with her." He smiled and left.
So the search continued. But it was better to walk around the room than sit down and being obliged to have another useless conversation.
He was in the middle of the dance floor – strange place to find yourself in, alone – when he felt a hand touching his shoulder. He turned around to see the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
"Cassie?" he asked in a daze. The blonde hair surprised him.
"I thought you wouldn't come," she said, still smiling.
"I said I would." His voice sounded hypnotized. He couldn't tell what it was. Well, her, obviously. But why? Was it because he hadn't seen her for so long? Was it because of her different appearance?
"I know . . . but, frankly, I didn't expect to see you here."
"Do you want to dance?" Dean asked suddenly.
"No," she chuckled. "I don't dance."
"Come on," he tried to persuade her.
"No." She took his hand and dragged him away from the dance floor. Back to the seat. A different one now.
"You look –" Dean wanted to compliment her, but she put her finger on his lips.
"Hush, my dear."
"But you do." He took a good look at her. Her long straight blond hair, which suited her so much. The dress. "I've never seen you wear a dress," he reflected. This one was a short one. It was one of those dresses that look as if the top and the skirt were separated but it was just one piece. The top was black and sleeveless, only with stripes, which couldn't be more than seven centimeters wide. The bottom of the dress was a circle skirt of beige color. Then Dean looked at her shoes. "Since when you wear high-heel shoes?"
Cassie looked down as if she wasn't sure what shoes she was wearing. She put her feet together and clapped with the sides of the shoes. "This is a special occasion," she explained.
"It sucks that during the time we dated there wasn't a single special occasion." The note was left without a response. Cassie seemed more interested in playing with her shoes. Then she leaned forward and reached for the high heels to take them off. She put the shoes under the table and stretched her legs and feet.
"You know how I hate doing this. Being here . . . wearing this."
"I'm not a fan of formal events either."
"Being surrounded by your family which you try to avoid the whole year," she joked.
"I was just talking to your aunt a moment ago."
"Oh God," sighed Cassie. "She's one of those 'When are you getting married?' I can't stand those types."
Dean could sympathize with that. But bringing up this topic, he remembered something he wanted to ask about. "Cassie." She lifted her head to look at him. "Was I the last guy you dated?"
"Maybe," she replied, trying to sound casually. "Does it matter?"
"No. I don't know. Isn't it funny that we broke up months ago and we're still here together?" She stayed quiet. "In a way, it's as if we were still a couple."
Now she chuckled. "There's a difference. If we were still together, we'd be having sex in the bathroom right now," she joked.
He laughed, but only for a second. Then his face got serious. "Cassie," he called her name again. "Are you still in love with me?"
"I don't know. I mean, I don't want to know. Let's not open this topic, okay?" She seemed a little bothered. She put her shoes back on. "I'll be back in a minute," she said and stood up. Dean knew she was just escaping, but he let her.
He kept sitting there, thinking. Not long, though. He went to the other table, where he found Josh, who just returned from the dance with his new wife.
"Give me a break, will you?" he asked her gently. Fortunately, there were other people who wanted to have a dance with her; she was a pretty damn good dancer.
"Oh, Dean," Josh noticed him. He still sounded tired; his breathing was heavy but he found himself a glass of water – nope, that's not water, he realized immediately but drank it anyway. "I've been married for just a few hours and I'm already getting sick of it," he joked.
"That's why I'm never getting married."
"I used to say that too. Now look at me." He looked away when there appeared a waiter with a tray of glasses with champagne passing by. Josh took two glasses and handed one over to Dean. "Have you found Cas?"
Dean's face looked distant. "Yeah. About that, it's weird that we're still friends, isn't it?"
"I thought it was weird when you broke up."
"You're not helping me."
"Sorry. It's just that when I met you, that day she brought you to my apartment, I thought you'd be the one that wouldn't leave. At least not so early."
"Really?" Dean smiled sarcastically. "If I remember it well, you wanted me gone the second I stepped inside."
"Because you were so drunk. But in the morning it all changed."
"That was one tough morning," Dean reflected. "I drank so much the night before. In the bar before Cassie, with Cassie, then in the karaoke bar, and again when we got back to the apartment. But it was one hell of a night. It was like three or four dates in one."
"All I remember is getting back to the apartment in the morning and finding you lying in the living room on my couch."
"That's definitely a strange place to end on a date."
"But I was only happy when I walked into my little sis's room and found her there."
"If I was there with her, you'd kick me out?" Dean wondered.
"I definitely wouldn't make you a coffee."
"Don't forget the breakfast," Dean reminded him.
"I still can't believe all the stuff I told you. To a practically complete stranger. About me. About my sister."
"But if it wasn't for you, maybe that day would be the end of it. I'd leave in the morning, maybe even without saying goodbye, and never look back."
"Well, isn't it what you did later anyway?"
Dean let that soak in. He finished his glass. "Excuse me," he said, and then he was gone.
He found her instantly.
"No." Dean's way was rudely blocked.
"Seth? What are you doing here?"
"Stopping you from making a huge mistake."
"I just need to talk to her," Dean said absently. She was still in the sight; he could get to her . . .
"No."
Dean surrendered. This wasn't a time when he would insist on what he initially wanted. He let go and obeyed. "Okay."
"Let her go."
That was not necessary to say; Dean already had. "Tell her that I'm sorry."
Seth nodded. Somewhat satisfied, Dean turned around. There was nothing left to do. He had done the damage. It was a depressing realization, but he finally saw that not everybody could be happy.
Dean kept walking outside, although the party was still in progress. His thoughts were directed at the person he had hurt. All this time he thought that it was Renee who he made miserable by his actions. But what about Cassie? The person who started the evolution of Dean Ambrose. She prepared him for Renee; then she helped him keep the person he left her for. And now would he let her go because he had no use for her anymore?
There was a bench right outside where he sat down. He held his head in his hands. In that position he stayed for a minute, then he straightened up his back and looked ahead of him. At the road. Passing cars.
Not like this. Dean told himself that he couldn't end it this way. He had to give her a proper apology. Explanation would be better; but could he answer the question why he did what he did? No.
Assured of doing the right thing, although not feeling quite ready, he stood up and returned to the place he had thought he left for good. Once inside, he could start from the scratch. The search. Where was she? Maybe if he waited for a moment, she would show up. So he did. Still nothing. She was not dancing and she was not sitting at the table. She was nowhere near the happy couple.
Dean asked himself, what would you do if someone broke your heart? If he cut the last string of your attachment to him? Cry. That's what any normal person would do, isn't it? But in the public where everyone can see you? No, of course not.
Bathroom, that's where she had to be. Dean knocked. It was women's bathroom; he would enter only if he had no other option. Well, it may have been urgent, but . . .
"Could you check if somebody's inside?" he asked a woman who was luckily passing by.
She did. "It's empty."
Cassie wouldn't enter a men's bathroom, would she? Although implausible, this wasn't difficult for Dean to check.
It was quite a surprise to see her there. It was even bigger surprise to see her making out with Seth.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean asked, in a shock. His mouth open, eyes fixed on his friends. Limbs paralyzed.
She came to him, a smile on her face. Then she softly touched his shoulder and spoke to him. "Sir."
Wait? What? That wasn't Cassie.
"Sir," the female voice repeated. Now Dean opened his eyes. "Sir, please tighten your belt, we'll be landing soon." Dean looked around. He was in an airplane. It was all just a dream. A sign? Warning? Clarification? If so, Dean was asking, of what? He'd need a specialized dictionary to decipher the hidden message. One thing was certain; the real wedding was still ahead of him.