“Fucking hell.”
I hear the woman before I see her—I’m busy adjusting the suit bag in my hand—and nearly trip over her leg. She’s fallen on the stone path that leads to the hotel on the lake.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Before I can extend my hand, she jumps up. Her purple dress ends just below her knees.
“Yeah, I’m fine. These shoes just aren’t made for running.” The petite East Asian lady gestures to her silver stilettos with her bouquet. One of Tessa’s bridesmaids, I assume. “Even for walking, they’re a fucking nightmare.” She pauses. “Sorry.”
She doesn’t need to apologize for her language, but perhaps she senses that I’m not the sort of person who swears vehemently, well, ever. A quiet “shit” is as far as I go and—
Wow. She smiles at me, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is.
There’s a giggle from behind the pink rose bushes. Her gaze snaps in that direction.
“For fuck’s sake,” she mutters. “The flower girl escaped again, and I’m tasked with bringing her back.” She dashes off toward the roses.
I shake my head and continue along the path. Someone else in a purple dress flies out the door of the hotel. Is she also in pursuit of the flower girl, or is there another wedding-related emergency?
God, weddings are such chaos, and I have four to attend in the next three months.
I head into the lobby, check in, and proceed to my room on the second floor, where I hang up my suit and open my suitcase. Still over an hour until the ceremony starts, so I’m in no rush. It’s not as if it’ll take me more than fifteen minutes to get ready.
My phone rings. It’s my parents, so I answer.
“Did you get there safely?” Mom asks.
“Yes,” I say, “but traffic was bad so it took almost three hours.”
I would have called within the next few minutes if she didn’t call me first. I never want her to worry, and I do my best to ensure she doesn’t have to worry about me.
“Max!” My dad’s voice bellows over the phone. He’s the louder of my parents by far. “How’s it going? Any pretty bridesmaids?”
“The wedding hasn’t started yet,” I say crisply, even though I’m thinking about the woman I saw earlier.
“I think that means yes.”
“It does not.”
We chat for a few more minutes, then I tell him that I have to get going. Before I get dressed, I glance out the window, toward the small lake. Chairs are set out for the ceremony, and the wind whips around some gauzy material at the altar…and the flower girl is running down the aisle, pursued by two bridesmaids, two other women, and a Canada goose.
My lips twitch.
Weddings aren’t my cup of tea. Not because I don’t believe in love—I do—but because there are so many people, and I get asked about my own romantic prospects. It’s gotten worse recently, thanks to the fact that I’m thirty-five and single, I suppose.
Plus, something usually goes wrong. The groomsmen have horrible hangovers and look like death warmed over during the ceremony; the maid of honor slips and falls onto the cake; the father of the groom gets punched in the face by his brother, due to some quarrel that started twenty-seven years ago; the photographer is trying to hide a dead body. Obviously, the latter hasn’t occurred at any weddings that I’ve attended…at least I don’t think so. But anything can happen at a wedding.
Even if it mostly goes according to plan, the parents of the happy couple might freak out over something minor. Maybe the peonies in the bouquets aren’t quite big enough, or the canapés aren’t the perfect temperature.
The next three weddings I have to attend are those of my cousins. All of Auntie Gladys’s kids are getting married this year, and she’s definitely the sort who’d make a big deal out of small imperfections. My mother and Auntie Gladys don’t get along at the best of times, and she’s really been trying Mom’s patience lately, constantly calling my parents about one thing or another. So while I’m happy for my cousins in theory, I’m not looking forward to those weddings.
But this wedding, my friend Malcolm’s, doesn’t involve family. It should try my sanity a little less, though the long drive wasn’t a good start to the day.
* * *
I head outside twenty-five minutes before the ceremony is due to start.
“Max Mok!” Bryce slaps me on the arm with too much force. “I thought it was you.”
Bryce has always delighted in saying my full name. He’s one of Malcolm’s friends from university, like me, but the two of us aren’t friends, not even on Facebook—I deleted his request—and I haven’t seen him in years.
“Hello, Bryce.” I hope if I don’t say anything more, he’ll leave me alone, even though I’m fairly sure that hope is in vain.
“You here alone?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He introduces me to his girlfriend just as a string quartet starts playing an Elton John song. “Don’t worry, we’ll find someone for you tonight.”
The last thing I need is Bryce’s help, but rather than expressing my thoughts on the matter, I simply thin my lips.
“Tessa has a friend who’s also a structural engineer,” he says.
“Mm-hmm.” I suppose he imagines us bonding over concrete, rebar, or similar.
I take a seat. Bryce, unfortunately, sits beside me, his date on his other side.
I’m pleased when the ceremony starts right on time. The groom and the groomsmen enter first, followed by the bridesmaids. The first bridesmaid bears a strong resemblance to Tessa, and I assume it’s her sister.
The second bridesmaid is her. The woman I met in front of the hotel.
Unlike earlier, she’s not swearing and glaring at her shoes; no, she’s walking regally down the aisle, pink and white bouquet held in both hands, a smile on her face. I’m next to the aisle, and when she walks by, I swear the air changes a little, though that might just be the breeze off the lake.
Her skin is pebbled with goose bumps; indeed, it’s not a very warm day for early June, and while the bridesmaid’s dress isn’t what I’d call skimpy, it has significantly less fabric than my suit. The sunlight brings out the brown highlights in her dark hair, which is in an updo. Her expression is determined, focused. I rather wish she’d glance my way, but she’s looking straight ahead, chin up.
“Max,” Bryce hisses, and I cringe when a few people turn in our direction before looking back at the bride.
Right. I get to my feet. I’m supposed to be standing because Tessa has made her entrance with her father and mother.
I was just too focused on the bridesmaid.
I wish I knew her name. I could ask Bryce later—he tends to know everyone—but the thought of having to ask him anything makes me shudder, so I nix that possibility. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to approach her. God, no. Say a cheesy line, ask if she wants to dance, stammer when she mentions a husband or wife? Nah, not my thing.
Yes, I’m a little shy. I might not show my anxiety on the outside, but I feel it nonetheless, and I’m not at my best when I’m surrounded by a hundred or so people, most of them strangers.
I turn my attention toward Malcolm and Tessa, who are staring adoringly into each other’s eyes. They met on a dating app seven years ago and got engaged five years later.
For a brief moment, I consider talking to the pretty bridesmaid at the reception. I do want what Malcolm and Tessa have, even if it’s something I rarely admit out loud.
“Ahhhhh!”
My thoughts are interrupted as the flower girl lets out an ear-piercing scream for no discernible reason and races back up the aisle.
See what I mean? Weddings are full of chaos.
It was a hectic day preparing for the wedding, especially since the flower girl was a bit of an escape artist, but aside from her scream, the ceremony went well. I didn’t even mind the personalized vows.
If I ever get married—I won’t, but let’s pretend for a moment—I will not be writing my own vows. They’re usually cringeworthy, though these were better than average and mercifully short.
And now, my friend is married, the bridal party pictures are complete, and Tessa and Malcolm are taking couple’s photos in the picturesque garden by the lake. I wrap myself in a shawl and grab a fruity cocktail from a passing server.
“Thank you,” I murmur before going to huddle by one of the heaters. It’s fucking freezing today, and the ceremony and cocktails are outdoors; dinner is under a big white tent. I thought early June was supposed to be warmer than this.
Still, I’m happy to be here for Tessa, I truly am, even if marriage isn’t something I want for myself. As the newlyweds approach the patio, Malcolm’s mother intercepts them, reminding me, once again, of why the thought of marriage makes me want to break out in hives.
When you marry someone, you also marry their family.
I already have one family to deal with; I don’t need another. I can’t imagine liking someone enough that I’d willingly put up with that for years. My perfect man has no parents or siblings or other relatives.
Okay, that doesn’t sound right. I wouldn’t wish that someone lost their parents at a young age. But I suppose I can wish that he appeared on the planet as a fully formed adult.
See? My perfect man doesn’t exist.
Long-term relationships involve a lot of giving, without receiving much in return. For example, giving your time and energy to another family and dealing with a mother-in-law. I broke up with Troy five years ago, and I’m still recovering from my dealings with his mom, who clearly didn’t think I was good enough for her precious son.
Yep, I don’t need that nonsense.
Some people look for love at a wedding, but not me, though I am interested in some fun between the sheets if an opportunity presents itself. I’d very much like to end my dry spell.
Once again, my eyes find him.
He’s easy to spot, in part because there aren’t a ton of other Asian people here. (Tessa’s mother is Asian and her father is white; she grew up in this mostly white small town.) But even if it weren’t for that, he’d stand out. He’s tall, and he has harsh, beautiful features.
I think striking is the right word.
He also has glasses, which look particularly sexy on him.
Unfortunately, the first time we encountered each other, it was right after I’d fallen on the ground, and he heard me swearing up a storm. Still, I noticed he was attractive, and now that he’s wearing a well-fitting gray suit, he’s even hotter, which I hadn’t thought was possible.
Tessa told me that he’s Malcolm’s friend from university. His name is Max, he’s single, and he’s also a structural engineer. She waggled her eyebrows after she said that, as though us having the same profession was a good sign.
But I don’t want to talk about concrete tonight. I just want to get laid.
My body tingles with excitement.
I try to catch his eye, but he’s not looking in my direction, and for some reason, I have the sense that he’s purposely not looking, yet is aware of exactly where I am. From the way his eyes bored into mine earlier, I think he likes what he sees.
Thankfully, this purple dress isn’t godawful. I doubt I’ll be able to wear it again—it definitely looks like a bridesmaid’s dress—but it could be worse. It could be that pink monstrosity I had to wear for my cousin’s wedding more than three years ago, the last wedding I went to before the pandemic.
Trust me, it was impossible to flirt while wearing that. At least with this, I have something to work with.
Hungry, I grab a slider off a tray just as Iris Chin approaches me. She works with me and Tessa. Tessa and I have been there since we finished university, but Iris joined the company two years ago.
“You talk to him yet?” she asks.
“Who?” I say innocently.
She rolls her eyes. “The guy you keep looking at.”
“Nah, but I will, don’t worry. The night’s still young.”
I have three more weddings in the near future, but this wedding is a better opportunity for hooking up than the others, for one simple reason: my parents aren’t here. The other three weddings involve family friends. My parents have known Gladys and Gilbert for decades, and their oldest daughter is the same age as me.
“You’re not going to chicken out, are you?” Iris asks.
“I promise you, I’m no chicken.”
There’s a cold gust of wind, and I huddle closer to the heater.
“This is the only reason I’m talking to you right now,” Iris jokes. “Because you’re standing in the warmest place on the patio.”
“It really is cold, isn’t it?” I say. “How was your drive up today?”
“The 401 was even worse than usual, which is saying something.”
Since I’m in the bridal party, I drove in last night, and I managed to time it such that the traffic was only moderately terrible. This is the farthest I’m traveling for a wedding this year, thankfully.
I grew up in the Toronto area, as did Iris. To be honest, I’m glad I didn’t grow up in a place like this. The city is more my style—and I suspect this town doesn’t have any good dim sum.
“He’s looking at you again,” Iris says. “Maybe you’ll hit it off, and next year, I’ll be going to your wedding.”
“Oh, please.”
“Once upon a time, I was like you.” She smiles. “But not everyone changes their mind. I know that, don’t worry. I won’t tell Tessa to throw the bouquet straight to you.”
I give her a look. “You better not.”
* * *
The reception proceeds as planned, more or less. The food is good but ultimately forgettable—I requested steak, and we’re all served a salad before our main course. Speeches are made. The emcee attempts a few terrible jokes.
I’m not sure anyone planned on Tessa’s mom speaking for a full twenty-five minutes, but it’s a moving speech. It also has a few moments that make everyone laugh. Tessa embraces her mom afterward, and I think they both shed a few tears—they’re closer than me and my mother.
That’s another reason I don’t want to get married: I hate to imagine what my mother would be like with a wedding on the horizon. Just the thought of her making a speech sends shivers down my spine.
I’m seated at the head table, and Max is at a table with a few of Malcolm’s friends from university, as well as a few of Tessa’s friends. He’s next to a white guy whom he clearly finds annoying. At one point, he glances in my direction, and when I smile at him, he quickly turns away. I doubt this guy will make the first move, but that’s fine. I’m happy to make the moves.
After dinner is finished and the bride and groom have their first dance as a married couple, I saunter his way. He’s standing by the edge of the tent, beside the guy who was sitting with him earlier.
“Hey!” I say. “You’re Malcolm’s friends, right? I’m Kim.”
“I’m Bryce.” Bryce gestures to the man next to him. “This is Max.”
“You’re here alone, Max, aren’t you?” I hold out my hand. “Wanna dance?”
Bryce walks away, thankfully, leaving us alone.
Rather than answering my question, Max says, “How’s your leg?” He has a low, pleasing voice.
“Scraped my knee, but that’s covered by the dress. I’m just glad I didn’t rip the fabric.” I step closer. “I saw you looking at me earlier.”
“Did you?” There’s not much inflection in his voice, nor much change to his expression, but I sense that he’s slightly alarmed by my observation.
“Yep!” I say cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I liked it. You look like the star in the drama I’m watching.”
Once again, he looks slightly alarmed.
“Except you have short hair,” I say, “and you’re not, like, the biggest villain in the universe and thirty thousand years old.” I pause. “At least, I don’t think you are.”
Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have made that silly comparison.
But then he smiles. There we go.
“So, you wanna dance?” I ask. “You don’t have to move much. Just hold my hand, put your other hand on my waist, and let me do the moving, if that’s acceptable to you.”
If he rejects my advances, I’ll walk away. It’s fine. I’m sure I can find someone else—one of Malcolm’s cousins was flirting with me earlier, for example.
But as it turns out, that isn’t necessary.
He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor, beneath the twinkling fairy lights, and excitement sizzles through my veins. He’s much taller than me; even though I’m wearing heels, I only go up to his chin. His other hand moves to my waist, and I can feel the warmth of his big hand through the thin material of my dress.
Mmm. That’s nice.
I haven’t felt anything quite like this in a long time, and the fact that I’m enjoying such a simple touch seems like a good sign for the rest of the night.
When he steps back, my chest deflates. I assume he’s changed his mind about this dancing business, but then he removes his suit jacket and holds it in my direction.
“Take it,” he says. “You’ve been standing by the heater and shivering all night.”
“So you have been watching me.” Pleased, I drape the jacket over my shoulders. It’s loose—his shoulders are much broader than mine—but I instantly feel warmer.
“Perhaps.”
Max isn’t the greatest conversationalist, but that’s okay. Talking isn’t what I have in mind for the evening, and there’s something particularly thrilling about getting a guy like this unbuttoned. I have fond memories of a starchy actuary I met post-Troy. Even if I hadn’t already sworn off long-term relationships, we never would have worked out. First of all, he literally counted in his sleep, and second of all, he makes Max seem talkative. I felt like I was performing a monologue.
But he knew how to use his mouth in other ways, if you know what I mean, and we had a very good weekend together. I have similar hopes for tonight.
The song ends, and a new one starts.
“I hate this song,” Max mutters.
“Yeah? I don’t think I know it. Sing the chorus for me.”
As expected, the suggestion of singing earns me a glare, but he pulls me a little closer. My heart rate kicks up a notch.
“You’ll hear it in approximately nine seconds,” he says.
I still don’t recognize the song, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dance to it. I shimmy my shoulders and sway my hips. I hope it makes him think about how I could move horizontally. Or against a door. I’m okay with that, too, but I’ve recently decided I’m too old for shower sex.
Max isn’t moving as much as I am, but he shuffles his feet and keeps a hold on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Iris talking to Tessa’s father, and she shoots me a thumbs-up.
I return my attention to Max. For the first time today, I feel pleasantly warm. His body heat, his jacket… My hand drifts to his hair, and I tilt my head up.
“Not here,” he says shortly, then drags me off the dance floor.
“Where are we going?” I struggle to keep up with him in my stilettos. I can’t wait to get out of these shoes.
“I don’t know. Away. I don’t kiss in public.”
Just the thought of his mouth on mine…it’s enough to make my skin prickle.
The lake isn’t far, but it’s far enough that no one can see us clearly from the tent. I figure that’ll suffice. When I stop walking, he puts both hands on my waist.
“Lower,” I murmur, moving his hands so he’s grabbing my ass.
Then I leaned forward and kiss him.
His lips immediately part for me. He tastes of berry vanilla wedding cake. With all the fondant, I found the cake too sweet, but when combined with his mouth…
Mmm.
Under the moonlit sky, strains of music and laughter reaching us from the reception, this could be a romantic moment, if romance were on my mind, but it isn’t.
No, I want something different.
His tongue touches mine. He makes an irresistible groan that I want to hear again and again…just for tonight.
He hitches up the bottom of my dress and slides one hand up my leg, squeezing my ass gently. I pull him closer, molding myself against him. My body hums in approval when I feel his erection. This is what I need. Him inside me. That perfectly pressed dress shirt wrinkled on the floor. Hands, lips, teeth, tongue…everywhere. My body spiraling up and up toward its release.
I itch to loosen the knot of his tie, to make him a little disheveled, but I sense he wouldn’t like that unless he was behind closed doors, so I leave it. For now.
Yes, I think this is going to be a very good night.
Someone clears their throat, and Max immediately backs away from me. Disappointed, I glance behind us.
“Iris!” I say. Why are you disrupting me? Can’t you tell I was busy?
Incredibly, I manage not to swear.
“I’m really sorry,” she says. “Tessa is tossing the bouquet in a few minutes, and she insisted I find you.”
“For fuck’s sake.” And there it is. “I don’t even want to catch the bouquet.”
“I know. I told her that, but like I said, she insisted.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Iris nods and starts walking away. But she looks back a few seconds later, and although it’s hard to tell in the darkness, I think she shoots me a wink.
I turn to Max. “We’ll continue this later?”
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Jackie Lau 