Page 191 of Blue Moon

“Wrong glass?” Emmy asked as I gasped for air.

“Wrong glass,” I choked out.

The Japanese woman gripped my arm. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“James, for fuck’s sake, give her your water.”

James? This was the president? A glass found its way into my hand, and I poured the contents down my throat, beyond relieved when the fire began to subside. Half of the water spilled over my dress, which turned translucent, and I wished Mark Antony had been the monster I’d first thought he was because if he’d killed me on the mountain, I wouldn’t be dying of embarrassment right here, right now.

“You sure know how to make an entrance,” Dan’s boyfriend said. Or was he her fiancé now? I checked their hands. No rings.

“I was trying to find the bathroom.”

“Did you get a map?” the president asked. “This fucking place needs signage.”

“Have you met James?” Emmy asked.

“Of course I haven’t met him. When would I ever have met him?”

He was the freaking president. Several years ago, Mom had written to the White House, offering for me to sing “Happy Birthday” Marilyn Monroe-style, which she didn’t tell me about until after she’d done it. Nobody had ever replied, so now she voted for the other guy, but I’d been secretly relieved.

He held out a hand. “James.”

“Yes, I got that.” Dammit, think before you speak. All those pageants, and I’d left my poise back in Vegas. I tried a sort of curtsy, nearly landed on my ass, and cringed as Emmy and the blonde both fell about laughing. Luckily, Ryder caught me. “Shit! Uh, I’m Luna Maara. Luna Metcalfe. Luna Maara Metcalfe.”

Could this get any worse?

“Pleasure to meet you, Luna Maara Metcalfe.”

“Aren’t you meant to be campaigning or something?” The election was next month, wasn’t it?

His eyes twinkled, and his smile was devastating. “Do I have your vote?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Good. Now I can check campaigning off my list for tonight. I hear you recently got married?”

What? President Harrison knew who I was?

Thankfully, Ryder stepped in before I made an even bigger fool of myself. “Last week, sir. In Las Vegas. Got engaged one day and married the next.”

“Congratulations to both of you, but skip the ‘sir.’ This is the one place where I don’t have to deal with that bullshit.”

“Understood.”

“Taking notes, Dan?” Black asked. “Just go to Vegas.”

“Send me a ‘save the date,’” the president told her. “I’ll have either all the time in the world or none whatsoever.”

“Dan and Ethan got engaged six weeks ago,” Emmy explained. “She’s still wearing the ring on a chain around her neck because Bradley’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he finds out.”

Dan groaned. “He knows something’s up. He caught me looking at dresses online last week.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I told him I was helping Hallie.”

“So that’s why he sent her a bunch of cake samples?” Emmy asked. “Hell, I’m gonna tell him that I’m getting married again.”

---