“Mason made me feel ordinary.”
“What’s wrong with ordinary?”
I looked at him.
“Nothing, apparently.”
“Exactly.”
We talked until after midnight.
Then one.
Then almost two.
Eventually Julian stood.
He put on his jacket.
I walked him to the door.
For the first time all evening, neither of us had anything funny to say.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For destroying a wedding?”
“For making tonight easier.”
Julian smiled.
“You were doing pretty well on your own.”
I looked at him for a moment.
“You know, you’re nothing like Mason.”
His expression softened.
“I hope not.”
He opened the door.
Then turned back.
“Claire?”
“Yeah?”
“We could have dinner sometime.”
I smiled.
“Professionally?”
“No.”
There was something wonderfully terrifying about that answer.
“Okay.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Then he left.
Julian texted me the next morning.
Still emotionally recovering from the world’s most uncomfortable wedding reception?
I replied:
Mostly recovering from the champagne.
