The Longest Night

“No one was worthy,” offered Cassandra with a shrug. She hadn’t brought a date to any of her friends’ weddings. It didn’t seem right. Her men fell into one category, her friends into another. And Cassandra didn’t believe in category mixing.

“Off week, huh?”

“Never,” she said, flashing her mysterious smile. She liked building upon the Cassandra mystique. And the more her best friends coupled up, the more Cassandra played it up. Maybe it was shallow, but she wanted to remind them that single life really did have its own rewards.

“There are some eligibles here, by the way. A couple of men from the Herald, plus, all Beth’s waiters are here.”

Cassandra scoped out the hotties who were tending bar and laughed at the familiar faces. Thomas, Seth and Charles. Beth had opened a tearoom, highbrow and staid, except for the waiters in tuxes that made it smolder, Chicago-style.

“They’re just babes in the wood,” answered Cassandra, though she had actually considered it at one time.

“Beth told me who Noah was. Quite conveniently we noticed that he’s alone.”

Cassandra tapped a fingernail on the table as her sole concession to Noah Barclay. “Why don’t you go find your husband? I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t want company?”

“It’s nice to sit and think, remember all the good times we had.”

“It’s a wedding, not a funeral,” said Mickey, using her glasses for the full egghead effect.

Cassandra leaned back, watching the matrimonial circus in front of her. “It all depends on your perspective.”

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