Cupid Never Strikes Twice

It was the soiree of the season. An elaborate mixture of the upper middle and upper class blended to celebrate a union. Some who attended were friends, and others were friends of a friend. And some were strangers, for whom a lack of an invitation would be a death sentence for the bride/ groom as well as the wedding goer. People of all shades and creeds funneled into the palace-turned-venue. Two would enter, and both meetings would leave an ineffable effect on the other.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A man uttered the words, standing behind a chair next to a woman. The elegance drew him in. Of all the possible places he could situate himself, he opted for this one adjacent to her. 

The woman slowly looked in his direction, wanting to get a glimpse of the man. Her annoyance was palpable. She saw through his facade in the way many women can. And yet she relented, a simple nod alerted him of her agreement. 

“How do you know the bride and groom?” The woman felt the press of his gaze on her cheek, hoping her lack of eye contact would alert him of her unwillingness to converse. And yet a small spark in her wanted to see if her initial assumptions of the man were true. Alas, she indulged. 

“A family friend.” The three-word statement gave way to a sultry, smokey voice forged in the dying embers of a campfire. It wasn’t unimaginably deep beyond comprehension. But, it unmasked a woman of unique levels of texture. And made her all the more enchanting to the man sitting beside her. “And you?” 

Adorned in his coffee colored suit, it took him a while to reintroduce himself to the dialogue. A concept the woman was very much observant of. And her faint smile portrayed to the man, a hidden ability she reveled in. 

“Well, the groom, he was an early investor in my company back in college.” The man croaked out. “And more importantly, one of the few genuine friends I still have from that stage of my life.” 

“Oh, what company?” Her follow-up question surprised the man. He perceived her interest as waning if not nonexistent to begin with. This subtle yet impactful perk-up of energy helped grow his energy even further. 

“Flock.” 

“Flock, the dating and relationship app? That’s your company?” 

“Yes, it is.” He perceived his statement and eventual smile would be met with a smile in return. It wasn’t. The woman’s face returned statuesque, in the position of when they first met. His demeanor returned to less jovial.

“Interesting, you have done well for yourself, Mr. Michaels.” 

“Please, call me Monroe, But you you-,” he stammered in his statement. “You sound very familiar to me. What do you do?” 

“I’m a divorce attorney, but I have been on a few relationship podcasts as a guest.” She stated that, as a matter of fact, little emotion or excitement could be traced. 

“Wow, that's interesting, Ms.?” 

“Stephenson, Zahria.”

“I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere,” he chuckled. “A divorce attorney and a CEO of a dating app meet at a wedding.”  He started almost certain he would be alone in his momentary comedic endeavors. 

“He tells her, “If I am lucky, you’ll be homeless by the time my life’s mission is fulfilled,” Zahria continued the exchange. “The fact I still have somewhere to be on Monday morning means you need to work a little harder.” 

They both met each other with laughs of the subdued kind. Realizing at that moment the number of people in the room grew. All having conversations and catching up sessions of their own. 

“Don’t worry, I would still want you to have a job.” 

“What job, apart from what I do, you believe would best suit me?” 

“A model.’ With a quickness, he spoke, his eyes veered in her direction, looking for validation. Zahria remained stone faced, no expression swept her visage. She allowed the moment to linger before speaking. 

“What’s the ratio of success rate and usage rate on that one?” Zahria coldly asked, turning in his direction as the last word oozed from her mouth. 

‘Never,” Monroe uttered with a sense of embarrassment. The way his face scrunched in discomfort let her know his honesty. “Anyways, what made you want to be a divorce attorney?”

“My mother, actually.” Zahria started transitioning her gaze from her phone to the setup that lay before them. “She had a difficult divorce from my father, lost it all, and had to rebuild herself. I wanted to help women like her.”

A lump in Monroe’s throat began to form, mixed with a burning sensation in his chest. 

“So, Monroe,” Zaria started, looking at her phone for the time. “What made you decide to start your company?” 

The businessman paused, and his face formed differently. No longer did he have a gleeful puppy dog expression. His demeanor shifted to something more serious. Monroe’s sudden quietness got her attention. The attorney focused on him as he collected himself. 

“I had a friend in college. Massive gym guy.” He started shaking his head from side to side. “He worked out not for himself but intending to look better for his potential partner. He was bettering himself for the wrong reasons. He, uh, passed away suddenly. I never looked into what the cause of death was, but I knew his relationship status had to be a factor.”  Monroe looked down as he told the origin story of his brainchild.

Zahria was intrigued by this outward display of emotion. She was more interested in this individual she assumed was just another wealthy man who desired her. There was a level of texture he was showing her and depth she underestimated. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” an increase of emotion emitted from her. 

“Thank you,” Monroe spat out his words. “Him and the woman who would be my wife were siblings, and they made me feel like I was family the first time we met.” 

This was the moment Zahria was waiting for. The moment he revealed his true intentions. She felt the rush of correctness spill over. She had to do everything to not allow her glee to translate into a smile.

“You said wife in the past tense,” Zahria zoomed in like a hawk on that aspect of the conversation. “Where is she?”

“She passed away in 2019, pregnancy-related complications.” Monroe volunteered the information, much to the surprise of the divorce attorney. 

Zahria paused and allowed the weight of the discussion to surround and warm them in vulnerability. She felt almost bad for trying to look for flaws in a man’s character who was just being himself. All she could do was face the gentleman seated beside her, then swiftly turn to face forward. 

“You have been through a lot, Monroe.” Zahria’s words flew to the CEO’s ears 

“You and me both,” he replied. The wedding processional song began to play, and the raucous earthquake of voices dulled to a tremor, then expired into silence. 

The conversation was cut short for a little while as the ceremony began. The flashes of camera phones and dabbing of tears were in full effect. The divorce attorney found herself longing for an experience such as this. Wondering if she would ever experience the mythical joy of marriage for the first time. The CEO longingly looked, his humanity fully intact. He desired to know if he would ever experience this moment again. 

Both individuals spent time analyzing and pondering their predicaments without saying a word aloud. Before they knew it, the ceremony was over, and the after-party was moving to the ballroom, where luxurious cutlery resided on tables not too far adjacent to the ceremony hall. The venue itself felt as though it was taken from a forgotten chapter of The Great Gatsby. Zahria sat at her designated table. Monroe walked and searched for his name, four tables over. Moving quickly and thinking quicker, he took his name plate and replaced it with another gentleman coordinated to sit next to Zahria. 

The attorney smirked, even giving a slight chuckle, as the gentlemen came over and looked aimlessly for his place. He stammered and muttered to himself before finding his place, much to the amusement of the unlikely pair. The gentlemen wasn’t the only man that drew entertainment for the two. From women swooning over want-to-be powerbrokers for the governor’s mansion to men attempting to revitalize the charm of their youth by talking about stock portfolios. Each conversation and exchange at the table or the one behind, or the one to the left drew some level of subtle enjoyment by Zahria and Monroe. A simple side-eye glance alerted the other that they noticed an incongruence in the dialogue.  

All discussion yielded, and all admiration fell to the middle of the ballroom as the bride and groom danced. The sways of the song mixed perfectly with the glass sculpture pirouetting above them. Even the men of the room had to concede there was an untapped beauty that rushed from two individuals who were purely in love. In succession, there was the father-daughter dance also surrendering some level of beauty and love in a different sense. 

The floor opened up to everyone to join in on the celebration through slow dancing. Monroe extended his hand as an invitation. 

“Would you like to dance?’ He asked the woman whose company he shared. 

“I’d be delighted.” Zahria delicately took his hand and walked with him to the marble square that all others also were. 

The song switched to a classic by Foreigner as the airwaves erupted with the synths of a time long ago. Monroe and Zahria swayed as the lead singer pondered a desire to know what love was. Their electric aura was becoming more pronounced as the two began to attract the gazes of fellow wedding goers. They weren’t the bride and groom, but the ambiance was hard to deny as they’re gazes mixed with each other. And each other’s mirroring smiles highlighted the mutual fact that neither wanted this moment to end. 

“I think we’re starting to steal the show.” The CEO admitted. 

“If they want to watch, let them.” The attorney playfully retorted back. 

The song concluded with a few rounds of applause at the throwback. A timeless reminder of what was once and still is possible. The pair opted to return to their seats, but Monroe believed it would be to enjoy the remainder of the evening. 

“This has been fun, Mr. Michaels. But I perhaps should be on my way.” The attorney’s statement disappointed the CEO. 

“So soon?” Monroe started. “They haven’t even thrown the bouquet yet.” 

“That’s alright, won’t be missing much,” Zahria stated in a drole manner. “Do you mind walking me to my car?” 

“Don’t even have to ask.” Monroe followed her as she obtained her jacket. 

The two made their way out of the prism of opulence that they enjoyed. Monroe commented on the men showing off. Zahria, on the women throwing themselves at them. The laughs in unison were reminiscent of the high school teen spirit of romance. Something both eagerly wanted to explore. They finally made it to the valet. 

“Did you enjoy the party, sir and ma’am?’ He asked with a youthful disposition. 

“We did,” They said in unison, trading glances at each other. 

“We’ll bring you and your husband's car around.” He said, beginning to walk in the direction of vehicles. 

The two growing red with embarrassment stammered to correct the valet driver but to no avail. He was already in the distance, obtaining the vehicle. Zahria lost her composure once this evening at that very moment. Monroe was secretly happy, feeling as though his feelings were confirmed. The two finally gained their calmness, and Monroe turned to face Zahria. 

“Zahria, I had a lovely evening,” He stated. 

“I did as well. I don’t normally enjoy weddings, but this one was one to remember.” Zahria sincerely peered into Monroe’s eyes. “And I have you to thank for that.” 

“I would love to”. Monroe started his statement only to find the attorney tenderly placing her hand on the CEO’s chest, interrupting his statement. 

“Please, Monroe, don’t ruin this.” She had a heartfelt look of despair that trickled down her face. “I can’t, I just can’t.” 

The attorney’s car came into view as the valet cruised towards the two on the sidewalk. Its blue shimmer reminded Monroe of an ocean. The perfect means to describe her. The driver handed Zahria the keys, and in exchange, she gave him a tip. The attorney kissed the CEO goodnight under the moonlight and stepped into her vehicle. Closing the door, she began to drive off into the unknown mystery she once came from. The valet driver stood next to the CEO, who towered over him. 

“Man, she looks like she could be in vogue or something.” He uttered out of turn. The CEO didn’t reprimand the young man. He issued a correction. 

“She’s not a model,” Monroe stated. “She’s a divorce attorney.”