Page 82 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

Wyatt mutters, “Where is Tom?” scanning both directions of 14th Street NE.

Under his breath Nate reminds Wyatt, “We moved fast.”

“Got it!” Dad announces, and shows me a building that could really use some brightening up. “Is this along the lines of what you’re thinking?”

I inspect more closely the listing of a facility with a low review score, huge potholes in the driveway, and a bland paint job that might have been white long, long ago. “That’s perfect.”

Mom leans in to look. “Jeremy, I wouldn’t even call them first. This place might be run by the kind of people who’ll turn down a good thing just because they’re used to saying no.”

Nicholas adds, “Toeverything.”

“Have to get back inside.” I hug my family. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this if you weren’t here.”

“Some of the guests would’ve offered to help,” Nathan smiles.

“Which would have been kind, but I’m glad it was you guys, instead. I needed the love. I’m so…” Stopping myself from sayingmiserableI stammer instead, “…embarrassed.”

Wyatt offers a glimmer of hope I hadn’t thought of yet, “At least now your fiancé will free you from this dumb commitment.”

“You think so?”

Mom touches my elbow. “Honey, do you want him to cancel it?”

“Goodbye! Let me know how they receive the flowers! And remember to ask about allergies!” Running in my heels back up the steps, I mutter to myself a sarcastic, “Hope they makesomeone’sday better,” and slow once inside.

Smoothing my hair, wiping what I’m sure is smeared mascara from under my eyes, I breathe deeply in and out a few times before I step into the elevator and push the appropriate button. “I can do this. I will apologize and face the music head on.” Glancing to a couple accompanied by their shiny rollingsuitcases, I smile, “Where did that saying come from?Face the music?”

The man shrugs, and the other man scrolls on his phone, staring at it as he discovers the answer and reads, “Says here that it has no known origin, but it might be from early theater days when an actor had to face the orchestra while confronting a hostile audience. Maybe during Shakespeare’s time?”

The shrugging half of the couple lights up. “Probably not duringhisplays though. Oh, I think I remember something about the military, too. When they were kicked out a drum played through their exit? Can’t remember.”

“Huh.” I add a thoughtful, “My dad was a Marine. I’ll have to ask him.”

“Thank him for his service.”

“Yes, thank him for us.”

The doors whoosh open and I step off. “I will. Have a good evening.”

The scrolling man smiles while his partner nods, “You too,” as the doors whoosh closed.

I mutter to myself, “Not likely,” and head to the event.

Inside, I find it much colder than when I left, but dinner has been laid out, and the five hundred guests are engaged in easy conversation, composed at their tables. But as I walk by, those conversations hush. Some transform to whispers. I’ve heard of thewalk of shamebefore, but I know this isn’t what they meant. However, I can’t imagine a worse feeling than this one. The lead table is focused on me, and my heels feel like someone poured cement into them. Caleb and his parents watch my approach, not even trying to hide their… patience? Isthatwhat I see? Odd. Have they forgiven me? His father looks calm, no anger in his eyes. In his mother’s expression, the disdain is gone. But nothing has replaced it. It’s like I could be anyone. A stranger of whom she has no opinion.

Caleb politely stands and motions to the empty chair beside him. With all eyes on me I walk around the long rectangular table and take my seat to his left. He takes his, parents on his right. “Your family leave?”

“They took the flowers away.”

“I see.”

I lean forward so that I can speak to Mr. Astor better. “I’m so sorry I hurt you! I never meant to do that. There’s no excuse. I’m so sorry!”

“She’s forgetful,” Caleb explains for me. “She was late in bringing the arrangement for the foyer of this very hotel. That’s how we met.”

My heart sinks at the reminder. “I’m sorry.”

“I know it wasn’t intentional,” Mr. Astor replies before he clears his throat and adds, “It’s bothersome that I have this affliction in the first place. Uncommon. Been the bane of my existence for a lifetime.”

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