The Only Rule: The Casual Rule 3

by AC Netzel

  “Sure,” I say, a little confused. I hold out my left hand.

  She slaps her hands to her cheeks. “Oh. My. God. It’s gorgeous too!”

  This girl, the founder of Ben’s secret fan club, hasn’t gawked, sighed, jutted out her boobs or batted an eyelash at my husband. There’s something off about this. I stare at her, then glance back at Ben who’s trying to hide a smirk.

  Ah, I get it. There can only be one logical explanation. Ben left instructions for the staff to fawn over me.

  Marcy the Drooler rushes over with two glasses of white sangria. “Sangria, Mrs. Martin? Or would you prefer champagne? Anything you want, we’ll make sure you get.”

  “Sangria is fine.” That must be some tip they’re counting on.

  “Thank you, Marcy.” Ben takes the glasses off the tray and hands one to me. She flushes but quickly recovers.

  I glance around the room and spot most of my family swarmed around the wait staff holding trays loaded with assorted tapas. These poor people have no idea how hard they’re going to work tonight. Free food, free booze. My family will be all over that.

  The usual soft dinner music piped through the speakers is replaced by much livelier tunes by a DJ. A DJ! It sets the mood for what I know will be a fun night. We walk over to Ben’s parents who are speaking with Stuart and Elizabeth.

  “Benjamin, a tapas restaurant?” Beverly asks, her disapproval obvious.

  “You’re very perceptive, Mother.” He kisses her cheek, ignoring her haughty attitude. “Try the grilled octopus. It’s delicious.”

  “I love this place,” Stuart exclaims. “The food, everything is perfect. I feel like I’m in Spain. Olé.” He snaps his fingers over his head like a flamenco dancer. “Do you like the centerpieces?”

  I look around and see where Ben conceded to Stuart. The centerpieces are stunning, over-the-top, colorful—but holy shit are they tremendous.

  “They’re perfect Stuart. Thank you.”

  He beams with pride and it gives me all sorts of warm, fuzzy feelings inside.

  Elizabeth scans the room a few times like she’s looking for something.

  Or someone.

  Give up your search. She’s not invited.

  ~o0o~

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to invite Julia and Ben to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple. Let’s all gather around the center of the room and show our support,” the DJ announces.

  “Shall we?” Ben holds out his hand.

  I nod, placing my hand in his and we step into the middle of the room where a few tables have been cleared to make an impromptu dance floor. I rest one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand.

  Frank Sinatra begins crooning “The Way You Look Tonight” and we’re off, whirling and twirling. Ben pulls me close, singing in my ear about touching his heart, the soft hum of his voice gives me goosebumps. I tilt my head back and giggle.

  He dips me, holding me mid-dip. “How sexy?”

  “How sexy what?”

  “Under your dress.”

  I chuckle, amused that he’s still thinking about my lingerie.

  “You’ll be very happy.”

  “I already am.” He leans down and kisses me, inciting whoops and applause from our guests. He pulls me back up as the music winds down, twirls me around and holds me close to him. His five o’clock shadow gives me a secret thrill when it rubs against my cheek. I inhale and savor his cologne, body wash, Benessence, whatever it is. He continues to hold me tight, as the song slows down.

  “I fucking love my wife.” His words may be a little wicked, but his soulful eyes and the gentle tone of his voice are warm and intimate. For a quick moment, it feels like we’re the only two in the room.

  “I love you too.” My heart pounds rapidly in my chest. Thank God for waterproof mascara.

  He kisses me again, a soft, sweet kiss that melts me.

  ~o0o~

  Clink, clink, clink.

  If I hear one more knife clink on another damn wine glass, I’m going to scream. I love Ben. And I love kissing him, but this ‘clink and kiss’ tradition is getting old.

  We’re an hour into the party and my family is seriously buzzed. Ben arranged for a block of hotel rooms in the city for everyone. Uber is on speed dial to get them there, leaving them comfortable to get smashed, so all bets are off.

  “Excuse me,” Stuart announces. “As best man, it’s my honor to make the first toast to the bride and groom.”

  The chatter quiets down and all eyes are on him. Ben walks over to me, snaking his arm around my waist and kisses my hair. The staff hands champagne flutes out to everyone. Like they need any more alcohol in their system.

  “For those of you taking bets that I’m going to cry… Collect your money now. You win,” Stuart jokes.

  Everyone laughs as he continues.

  “When I first met Julia, I knew she was someone special. For starters, Ben introduced her to the family. Something he never did. Watching them that Christmas day, I saw that spark people talk about. You know what I mean—stolen glances, secret smiles, hushed whispers, and a whole lot of electricity.

  “But true love is more than just electricity. It’s about connection. Ben certainly made sure he was connected. He was always touching her, her hand, her shoulder. He needed to be near her, and he didn’t even know it. But I saw it.”

  I blush. I’m fairly certain Stuart isn’t referring to Ben touching me… under the dinner table in a very X-rated manner.

  “He was at ease and completely smitten with the smart, beautiful girl who made him happier than I’ve ever seen him.

  “I think everyone here knows these two claimed they were ‘just friends,’” he air quotes, “and we knew it wasn’t entirely true. They were friends. Still are… which is one of the things that makes this couple so special. But despite their denials to us and each other, that friendship grew deeper into love.

  “By the time I saw them that next May, I knew, without a doubt, Julia won his heart.

  “See, the thing about love is you don’t really have it until you let yourself be vulnerable. You trust that the one person you gave your whole heart to will protect it and never take it for granted. When I saw Ben open up his heart so freely, I knew. He met his match.

  “He met his other half. And his life changed for the better.

  “Ben, I’ve known you since you were thirteen. I love you like you’re my own brother. I’m ecstatic for you,” his voice cracks and his eyes tear up. “I’m surprised I lasted this long,” he jokes. “Julia, thank you for allowing him to love you so completely—and for loving him back the same way. Let’s raise our glasses to the happy couple. To Julia and Ben. I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness together. Cheers.”

  Ben walks over to shake Stuart’s hand and gets pulled into a bear hug. He laughs and hugs him back.

  ~o0o~

  After our delicious dinner and more staff fawning over me to the point of annoying, the party really comes to life.

  Ben’s busy acting as an accomplice by charming the wait staff while my three brothers, Frank, Dominic and Mark, steal a painting off the wall. A dare they always conspire to at special occasions. My brothers are oversized children and they’ve sucked my husband into their juvenile world.

  I spot my sisters-in-laws seated together, laughing at their spouses. They’re probably deciding who gets the honor of displaying the stolen property at their house. I’m fairly sure none of them want it.

  The servers are so busy drooling over Ben in his tux, his bow tie untied, top button undone and sleeves rolled up, they don’t notice or don’t care about the crime transpiring in front of them. I can’t say I blame them for clamoring around him. He’s gorgeous. And that platinum band around his finger says he’s one hundred percent mine.

  My sisters and Vivian are singing into their spoons as a sort of impromptu karaoke. Apparently, they are the Dancing Queens. They’re certainly acting like they’re seventeen. Ab
ba would be so proud. Vivian sure as hell can let loose.

  Allie is blatantly flirting with Ben’s friend, Darren, dirty dancing with him in the middle of the room. To Abba. Only Allie could dirty dance to Abba. She passed on his other groomsman, Mitch, because he brought a date. Allie has a strict moral compass when it comes to respecting girl code. Vince watches them with a scowl from a table across the room, his jaw tense, hand fisting into a ball.

  I roll my eyes. These two and their sex games.

  Marcello is trying to make Peter jealous by flirting with the DJ. It’s never going to work. Peter knows his game. Even if he had a drop of jealousy in his blood, he’d never give Marcello the satisfaction. He likes having the upper hand. But it’s entertaining to watch Marcello try.

  My mother has attached herself to Ben’s mother. Bev must have guzzled a dozen martinis because she doesn’t have her customary expression of horror splashed across her face when my mother pulls her into a bear hug and kisses her cheek.

  Everyone else is in their own intoxicated world and seems to be having a good time.

  Although the bride is supposed to be the one catered to on her special day, I have to pee and there’s no one around to help me. I walk into the Ladies Room alone and pray I can maneuver myself out of this dress enough to relieve my bladder.

  After I’m done with my business and grateful I didn’t ruin my dress, I walk over to the sink to wash my hands. The bathroom stall next to the one I just vacated opens and Emilio’s hostess, Kimberly, walks out.

  I don’t know why, but being alone with her feels kind of awkward. Although I know she had instructions to be extra nice to me, she probably hates me for stealing the object of her affection. Keeping my head down, I wash my hands in silence.

  I peek through my lashes at her reflection in the large wall mirror. She’s staring at me with her mouth open and then closes it immediately, like she changed her mind about saying something. She probably wants to accuse me of man stealing.

  The water turns off and I reach for a paper towel. Our gazes meet in the mirror. I smile politely. Kimberly half smiles back then clears her throat.

  “He used to watch you,” she says quietly.

  I cock my head to the side and frown.

  “Two winters ago… he sat at the bar almost every weekday and waited for you to walk by,” she explains.

  “How do you know?”

  “I overheard some of his conversations with the bartender. After a couple of weeks, it wasn’t hard to figure out who the girl he was looking for was.” She pauses, grabbing a paper towel for herself. “I felt bad for him. He looked so sad. He’s always been so nice to everyone here. It was hard seeing him so lost.”

  She shrugs and continues. “Between you and me, a couple of the girls here have a little crush on him. And when we watched him look at you... the way a man really loves a woman…” She giggles nervously and blushes. “Totally smitten.”

  I look down and smile to myself. She walks toward the door, throwing her used paper towel in the trash bin then stops and faces me.

  “Mrs. Martin?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad he got the girl.”

  “Thank you. Me too.”

  ~o0o~

  The Abba threesome’s version of “Waterloo” blasts in the air as I walk over to the bar to get something to drink. This is the first time today I’ve had to get my own drink. But with most of the staff enchanted by Ben’s charms and my bridesmaids wrapped in their drunken stupors, I’m on my own. When I reach the bar, I stop in my track.

  Seriously?

  “Jake?” I ask. “Moonlighting as a bartender?” I wonder if he still thinks he’s a Brit.

  “New gig. The other job didn’t work out.”

  Maybe if he learned that picking up his fares means to drive them, not proposition them, he’d still be employed.

  “Oh, well, good luck. Can I have a club soda and lime?”

  “No champagne for the pretty lady?”

  “I think I had my allotment of alcohol for the day. I’d like to be conscious when I leave here.”

  “So what are you doing after this shindig? We could go to my place.”

  I blink in disbelief, glance down at my wedding dress then look back at him. “I’m going on my honeymoon. With my husband. The guy over there, wearing the tux and wedding band that matches mine.” I hold up my left hand and show him my left ring finger.

  He nods. “So that’s a no?”

  I’d laugh in his face if I didn’t know how truly clueless he is.

  “Yeah. That’s a no.”

  “Gotcha,” he says, giving me finger guns. He drops a lime wedge in the club soda and slides the glass across the bar to me.

  I shake my head and smile. Getting hit on at my wedding reception, while I’m wearing a wedding dress isn’t exactly what I expected to happen today. Then again, up until a few days ago, I didn’t expect a wedding today, so I’m just rolling with it.

  “Cheers.” I raise my glass up to Jake and take a sip. The bubbles burst on my tongue, quenching my thirst, and cleansing my palette for cupcake time. “Thanks, Jake. See you around.”

  Downing the remainder of my drink, I place the glass on the bar. I take a quick glance out the window and do a double take when I see a familiar figure off to the side, her hand cupping her face, peeking in the window.

  Quickly, I move to the side of the bar where I’m out of her line of vision and watch her. She’s glued to her spot, spying on our private celebration. I’d think I’d feel some sense of ‘Fuck You’ towards her, but I don’t. I feel no spite. I feel no loathing. I feel nothing but compassion.

  This had to be a hard day for her. She knew Ben would never be hers. The fact that she needed to see it makes me feel a little sad for her. Her pain stung more because she wouldn’t accept the truth. Maybe witnessing reality will finally allow it to dull. She needed to see it to get closure.

  Oh, screw it! I’m so damn happy today, I want everyone happy… even her.

  Out of her view, I stroll over to the door unnoticed and sneak out of the restaurant. Camille is leaning into her cupped hands, frozen in her spot on the sidewalk, still looking in.

  Quietly, I walk over to her and clear my throat. She startles and turns her head in my direction, her face turning beet red.

  “Hi Camille,” I say softly.

  “I… I… Uh… I was just walking by,” she stutters, her eyes cast down to the sidewalk, mortified that she was caught. By of all people… me.

  I nod. I know she’s lying. There’s no need to call her on it. She knows I know.

  She looks back up at me and exhales a short breath. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I mean it. You’re stunning.”

  “Thanks.”

  She redirects her attention to the window, staring at the back of the room. “He looks happy,” she says.

  I glance through the window. Ben’s grinning from ear to ear, distracting his admirers while a crime is in progress.

  “He is.” The side of my mouth curls up into a smile.

  “I’m glad.” She swallows hard. “That’s all I want for him.”

  “That’s all I want for him too.”

  “There’s something we have in common.” She fakes a chuckle uncomfortably.

  Yeah, that and the fact that we’re in love with the same man.

  “HmmMmm.” I nod, biting my tongue.

  “About the other day at Ben’s apartment… I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew it was useless. I knew he’d never leave you. But, I…” She doesn’t finish her thought.

  “I wasn’t exactly kind to you, either,” I remind her.

  “I deserved it.”

  “Yeah. You did.”

  She looks down, wringing her hands. “When the two of you were broken up, I saw you looking through this window, watching us talk. I purposely made you think we were together,” she confesses.

  I remember it well. The si
ght of them together was devastating. I thought I was already replaced. When she rested her hand on Ben’s arm and seductively leaned in to whisper in his ear, my heart broke.

  “It worked.”

  “I never told him you were there.”

  “I figured that out.”

  “Nothing would have stopped him from running after you if he knew.”

  I smile and look down to the ground.

  “I was a terrible friend,” she continues, “not to tell him. I just…” She looks back into the restaurant.

  I know, you love him too.

  She sighs, still watching him through the window with sadness in her eyes and continues. “I’ve known him most of my life.” She looks up at me. “And I knew. I knew it was different with you. I realized he was in love with you before he did.” She looks down to the ground. “You probably don’t believe this… but I’m glad he found you.” She looks back up at me again. “I want the best for him,” she sighs, “and for him that’s you. I care for him. You know, as a friend.”

  “He cares for you too.”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t think anymore,” her voice trails off. “I ruined everything, even our friendship.”

  My heart sinks a little. I can’t believe I actually feel bad for her. She’s my nemesis, my arch enemy. This woman was horrible to me. But I do. Because for as much as my heart is soaring today, hers is in free fall. A small pang of sympathy squeezes my chest.

  “Nonsense. Why don’t you join us? The party is still going on.”

  She shakes her head, her face reddening again. “No, I don’t want to intrude. I know I’m not welcome here. I deserve it. Ben purposely didn’t invite me.”

  “I’m inviting you.” I grab hold of her hand and pull her toward the door. “Look, Camille, let’s not make this any weirder than it already is. Just come in. I’m sure Elizabeth—and Ben—will be happy to see you. “

  She glances down at her clothes. “I’m not dressed for a wedding.”

  I stare at her and roll my eyes. Dressed in a black pant suit, probably Armani, and a pair of black Louboutins, her long pin straight chestnut hair is perfect, her makeup…perfect all the way down to her lip gloss. She looks like she’s ready for a fashion shoot for Vogue.