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1
OSCAR
Only I could go to a wedding and manage to literally lose my date.
“For god’s sake, Frank,” I hissed, lifting the bottom edge of the white damask cloth and peering into the darkness below the gift table. He was hiding under there somewhere, I knew he was.
Around us, champagne glasses tinkled, and guests engaged in light, meaningless chatter while a string quartet played some soothing, romantic bullshit, but I was engaged in a battle of wills with a formidable opponent. A battle I could not lose.
“We talked about this,” I whispered, outraged. Despite the summer air-conditioning in the ballroom, a trickle of nervous sweat meandered down the center of my back. “You promised. I have to deliver that fucking speech in a little while, and I need your support?—”
“Oscar Overton?” a confused voice called from somewhere over my head. “Are you… that is… are you quite well?”
I startled, nearly cracking my head on the edge of the table, but managed to school my features to perfect blankness as I stood and let the tablecloth fall back into place. I swept a hand over my hair, tugged my tuxedo jacket and waistcoat down, and managed an urbane smile.
“Vic. Hi. Good to see you.” I nodded at the slight blond man who clutched a glass of white wine in one hand and the arm of his date in the other. “Perfectly fine, yes. Just…” I waved a hand. “Inspecting the workmanship. You know.”
Vic blinked rapidly, and I could practically see the thoughts fluttering across his brain as he glanced from me to the table and back again—Talking to tables is odd behavior, even for Oscar. Should I ask further questions? Should I be concerned? I also caught the moment he came up with the answer that seemed to settle his doubts—Ah, yes. Oscar is excessively rich and therefore eccentric. No one knows what goes on inside his head. Business as usual.
I bit my lip against a smile. It was a handy thing, sometimes, to be exceptionally wealthy. All your personality quirks could be explained away as a side effect of money, and though you lived your life in the spotlight, no one ever looked too closely, even the people you’d dated once upon a time. Rather like hiding in plain sight.
“Ravishing as ever, Vic. Love the summer suit,” I offered, leaning against the table faux-casually. I glanced up at the man on his arm—tall and willowy, a little awkward—and smiled brightly. “And who might this be?”
“Oh. Um. Oscar, this is Stefan.” Vic clutched his date’s arm a little tighter. “My fiancé. Stef, this is Oscar, my…” He hesitated.
“Ex,” I supplied, giving Stefan a friendly grin and extending my hand to shake. I winked at Vic. “Don’t be shy about it. It’s been ages since we broke up. In fact, I have several exes here tonight,” I added as an aside to Stefan, “including one of the grooms.”
Stefan blinked. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. Wells and I were a hot item for half a minute, eons ago.” I tried to sound bored and unconcerned and was pretty sure I’d managed it. “I’m his best man now.”
“That’s cool,” Stefan said, beginning to smile. “I?—”
“Yes, that’s kind of Oscar’s thing, Stef,” Vic interrupted. His fingers clutched at Stefan’s sleeve so tightly they made divots in the fabric. “He’s tried it on with plenty of men. Probably dated half the gay men in this room. Isn’t that right, Oscar?” Though his polite smile didn’t fade, in my expert opinion, he sounded just the tiniest bit resentful for a happily engaged man.
“Nonsense. Not half.” I quickly scanned the assembled guests. It was more like twenty percent. Thirty at most.
“Oscar commits, but never fully,” Vic went on, his smile looking rather forced now. “Yet he’s so damn likable you somehow find yourself remaining friendly with him even after the breakup.”
I frowned. That might be the way Vic remembered things, but he was wrong. I’d been fully committed to each of my relationships… until I wasn’t. And I’d been as disappointed as anyone—maybe more than anyone—when they didn’t work out.
“I am very likable,” I confessed to Stefan apologetically. “It’s a curse.”
He nodded, wide-eyed.
“There’s even,” Vic went on, voice harder, “a sort of legend where Oscar is concerned?—”
“Oh, that,” I scoffed, trying to hide my very real annoyance under the guise of fake annoyance. I had no idea how this foolish idea had gotten started, but I didn’t find it funny anymore. “Hardly a legend?—”
“—that Oscar is a good-luck charm. Date him, and after your relationship inevitably ends, the next person you date will be the person you marry.”
“What can I say?” I shook my head sadly and pressed a hand over my heart. “My loss is your gain, Stefan. Always a groomsman,” I said with a mock sigh. “Never a groom.”
Stefan laughed a bit at my theatrics, just as I’d intended.
Vic narrowed his eyes in possessive warning and clutched Stefan so tightly he was practically climbing him like a tree… which was insulting, really. In my entire life, I’d never cheated or made a play for a man who was already taken, and Vic should know that.
“You should probably have some hors d’oeuvres and find your table,” I told Vic gently. “Pretty sure Connor and Wells are going to do their big entrance soon.”
