Page 4 of My Best French Wedding

“I suppose you’d rather I just roll over and let you have your way?” Hildy let that idea dangle between them, twisting a curl around her index finger.

Walter did his best to match her tone. “It’s no fun if you don’t participate.”

“Are they talking about what I think they’re talking about?” Derek whispered to Corinne.

“Always,” she sighed.

“The wedding beat,” Hildy said, before returning her gaze to Walter. “That’s the only thing the two of us have in common.”

Walter broke eye contact first, draining the contents of the nearest water glass before slamming it on the table. “My word is ‘disruptive.’”

“Mine is ‘ignite,’” Hildy said half a second later, like even this was a competition.

Dean flicked a not-subtle glance between the two of them. “I’ll take ‘agitate.’”

“I’m going with ‘elevate,’” Corinne said. “As in, the thing we should all strive to do with our behavior.”

“Fine,” Oliver whined, as if this happened to him every time. “I’ll take ‘core values.’”

At the podium, the emcee announced the keynote speaker, a rumpled city editor with a few wisps of hair draped over his bare cranium like tinsel.

“If it ever gets to that point, I need you to do an intervention,” Dean said to Derek, patting the top of his head.

“Deal,” Derek promised.

“Welcome, game changers. We are here tonight to honor the vanguard of our profession. Voices who have elevated the field—”

Corinne pounded the table with her fist. “Line ’em up, losers.”

By the time the second speaker stepped to the microphone, Walter was shit-faced. It was a miracle Hildy was still upright, though her posture had gotten a lot less perfect. He imagined running a knuckle down her back to iron out the curve of her spine.

That would be a good way to get his hand bitten off. He poured himself another shot and tossed it back.

“What?” he asked, when the rest of the table stared at him.

“Nobody said any of the words,” Derek whispered.

Hildy shook her head, like his lack of gamesmanship came as no surprise. “Walter likes to play fast and loose with the rules.”

That was rich, coming from her. “What rules?”

“Like you don’t know.” She stood abruptly, shimmying her dress back into place. Walter squeezed his eyelids shut, too late to prevent that image from searing itself into his retinas.

When he opened them, Hildy was on the move.

“Have you ever tried walking in heels?” Derek asked, conversationally. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.” He paused to watch Hildy sashay across the carpet. “She’s got skills. The red is a nice touch too. Gives the look that little pop.”

“He has a great sense of color,” Dean informed the table, slurring slightly.

Walter ignored the unsolicited commentary, looking around for Corinne before pushing his chair back. He didn’t like the idea of Hildy wandering hotel corridors alone with that much tequila in her system.

The hallway was empty. Walter peered around the corner. “Hildy?”

The hangers on a wheeled coatrack slid apart to reveal her face.“Who wants to know?” When she saw it was Walter, she groaned like a toddler. “Figures.”

He strolled around the line of hanging jackets to join her. “What are you doing?”

“Decompressing. What areyoudoing?”