Page 85 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

I shake my head. I shouldn’t be going back there. The level of happiness I had that night is what made it hurt.

She’s looking at me now, eyes piercing. “I want to know. And don’t say it was tequila. Tell me really.”

“One highlight,” I sigh, “or possibly a lowlight, was us holding hands, running down the strip. And at one point, skipping.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes go wide. “No. Are you making that up?”

“Sorry to say, I’m not.”

She fake punches my arm. “No way!”

Skipping. That’s what she did to me then. “It was a little bit ironic, but not entirely.” It was actually ecstatic. She opened me up and unraveled me and made me feel so much joy.

“Us. Skipping,” she says. “Holding hands andskipping. You are so shitting me!”

“I’ve tried to suppress that part.” Which is true, but not because it was dorky. Because it was good. We were both drunk on tequila, but I was drunk on impossible things, and that’s a far more dangerous drink.

“Skipping,” she says, stunned.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

“No, it’s…” She sucks in her lips, staring at a giant bush that’s shaped like a duck. “What else. How did we…get the idea to you know, get hitched?”

“We were doing this whole thing with Igor and Monique. Something about giving them a stable family life. We were on a side street by this run-down chapel. They posted the marriage certificates the way restaurants post menus, all in different styles. You found one that had little birds holding banners, and a place to put names of children that would be members of the blended family. It was all bordered in gold foil. Calligraphy, etcetera. You were like, ‘We have to get this!’”

“The wedding was my idea?” she asks.

“Well, you really wanted the certificate showing we were a family. And we didn’t even keep them. We taped them up on a lamppost outside the Bellagio to announce it to the world. You felt that it was…beautiful and ephemeral,” I say. “Those were the words that you used.”

“Wow,” she says.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I say, trying for lightness.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.Understatement of the year. She was the only thing worth having in the whole entire universe.

“We went back to my place because I had chocolates.” I straighten her socks so they line up with each other. They’re white with black smiley faces. Francine will go elegant, but she always reserves some part of her outfit for fun. Always the little rebel. “You ate every one of those chocolates before crashing on my bed. I crashed on the couch out in the living room. When I woke up, you were gone.”

“I blew town,” she says sadly.

“You blew town.”

“And we were married,” she says. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I thought you’d find me when you figured it out,” I tell her. “When you were ready.”

“And I had no idea.” She sighs dolefully. “I acted like such a complete and utter asshole. I’m so sorry.”

“The past is in the past.”

“I know, and I know you don’t like to talk about it, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to, but Benny—” She swings her legs off my lap, sitting up, like she wants me to get this. “I want you to know, I loved the thing we had going. I loved it even before that night. You were this bright spot in everything, this genuine person in a land of fakery. And I had to go and ruin it by making all those unwelcome passes at you. I felt like an ass.”

“What are you talking about?” I say.

“When we got back to your place. You were right to reject me.”

I frown, not sure what she’s apologizing for.

“Youknow. Me kissing you and trying to unbutton your shirt, and you were like ‘Francine, no, we can’t.’ The few good things I remember from that night are blotted out by my awful behavior. I had to ruin it, you know? I was so screwed up back then. And I behaved so shamelessly with you, and then I compounded it by ghosting you the next morning instead of staying there and apologizing.”

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