Page 65 of The Wedding Favor

But it turned out that Jonathan Clark was only the beginning. Every man in the place suddenly became my long-lost grandfather, grilling Abe with rapid-fire questions:

“How do you like your steak? There is a right answer.”

“What’s your credit score?”

“What’s your social security number? I need it for the background check.”

“What’s one thing you hoped no one would ever find out about you? It’s better if you just tell me instead of me finding out on my own.”

Meanwhile, every woman in the place smiled and patted his arm and giggled when they met him. They said things like:

“Aren’t you just darling?”

“Such a big, strong young man.”

“Do you ride a motorcycle? Please say yes.”

“Oh, I dropped my napkin. Would you pick it up for me?”

That last one was Donna Small, and she asked at least three times. She was definitely not keeping her eyes on the napkin when Abe obliged.

When we finally landed at the table with Gloria and Hallie, Abe looked half-amused, half-shellshocked. “What is this place? I think my life has been threatened four times tonight.”

“Everyone is very fond of our Iris.” Gloria patted my hand. “When word got around that she was bringing someone with her to the dance, it caused a bit of a stir. She’s never brought anyone here with her.”

Abe shot me a surprised look. “Not even the ex?”

Gloria scowled. “No, thank goodness. Much better that way. I’d rather not spend my golden years in prison.”

“He’s not a villain,” I said, taking a sip of my glass of punch.

Gloria harrumphed. “If you say so.”

“What would you do?” Hallie asked.

Gloria’s smile was a touch scary. “Only what he deserved.”

At Hallie’s slightly horrified expression, I rushed to reassure her. “She’s joking. She’d never last a day in prison, anyway. No mirrors.”

“No mirrors? Is that true?” Gloria was now the one who looked horrified. “That’s some sort of cruel and unusual punishment. My goodness. Mirrors are the window to the soul.”

“Eyes are the window to the soul,” I said.

“Well, it should be mirrors. Write that down for my memoir.” She looked at me expectantly and I made a big deal about taking my phone from the small purse I was carrying.

“Mirrors are the window to the soul,” I muttered as I typed. “What does that even mean?”

“I’ll explain it in the memoir,” she said absently. “Alright, you two, I haven’t seen you dance once yet. Go on.”

I hadn’t been joking when I implied I was not a good dancer. I wasn’t. Embarrassingly so. “Maybe not right now⁠—”

Abe interrupted me. “Let’s go.”

He stood and held out a hand. My eyes drifted from that hand to his face. A corner of his mouth curled upward. I hesitated, feeling skittish. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He watched me, steady and sure.

Gloria tsked. “This is getting very boring. Just dance with the man. He’s not asking you to marry him and have his babies. Yet.”