The Next Mrs Russo

“Or,” I offer, already envisioning a much more romantic retelling, “or Artie saw your mom once, eons ago—”

“Eons?”

“Hush.” I wave off his concern for accurate timekeeping. “He saw her once across a crowded subway platform, but he wasn’t able to reach her before she disappeared. He kept thinking about her and returning to that subway stop trying to find her, but he never saw her again. Then she met your dad and fell madly in love with him. When your dad introduced his new girlfriend to Artie, Artie realized he’d found his subway girl, but it was too late, she was in love with your dad. So Artie moved on, and your mom never even knew she was his subway girl. And this is their second-chance romance!”

I finish on an exhale and flop back into my seat. That was a really good version of something that never happened.

“Wait though, I’m not actually sure if that’s what second-chance romance means. It’d be Artie’s second chance, but not hers since she never knew he secretly coveted her for a few decades. An unrequited second chance! Oh, my word, how romantic.”

“Okay. Well then,” Warren replies after a brief pause.

I’m not sure the governor appreciated my story, but it’s fine. I remind myself that he’s really into facts and data, which is just as sexy as a romantic story, but in a different way.

“Do you have family in Albany?” he asks after another moment of silence. If this was a real date, he’d be getting a fake phone call right about now.

I wouldn’t, because I still want to make out with him even if it appears we have absolutely nothing in common.

“No. I grew up in Syracuse. Went to F.I.T. then stayed in the city after. I inherited that brownstone from an aunt so I decided to get out of the city for a while.”

That sounds so much nicer than ‘fled,’ doesn’t it?

“Hey, do you like jelly beans?” It’s as good a conversation change as any.

He shrugs. “They’re all right.”

Yup. One of us is definitely regretting they didn’t arrange a fake phone call.

Chapter Six

“Wait.” I pause just outside the entryway to the reception. It took us ten minutes to make it from the front door to the second-floor performance hall where the reception is taking place because we’ve been stopped three times by people wanting a handshake or a quick word with Warren.

Two of the three I don’t think he’d ever seen before in his life, based on the quick conversations that followed, yet he handled them with grace and courtesy. I’d find that exhausting, personally. Always being ready to quickly react to complete strangers wanting your attention.

“Yes?” He turns towards me, scanning the room as he waits for me to continue.

“I know I don’t really know you or anything, but don’t forget about me, because I know these people even less than I know you.”

He turns his attention fully on me then, slowly taking me in, and I think I’ve surprised him. It’s hard to tell due to his whole give-nothing-away persona.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says after a beat, his brows rising momentarily in amusement.

“Yeah, okay.” I stare at him a moment longer, not completely sure what to think of him. “Let’s do this then.”

“Let’s.” When he smiles I nearly stumble. God help me, that elusive glimpse of a smile makes my heart rate speed up in crazy ways. It feels… flirty? Am I imagining it? I’d think I was imagining it due to my overactive imagination when it comes to the governor, also known as a crush, but that smile feels different when it’s directed at me.

Or I’m crazy.

Likely crazy.

We’re seated for dinner at a table with a bunch of people I don’t know, obviously. His mom and Artie are at our table. Warren’s younger brother as well, who I recognize because he’s an actor on a very popular sitcom. And he’s a total heartthrob, if you’re into that sort of thing.

A lot of women are into that sort of thing.

I’m seated directly between Warren and said brother, who turns out to be an incorrigible charmer. Big personality, attractive, quick-witted and used to getting what he wants is my quick diagnosis. Eminently likable. Not the least bit surly.

I’m aware that generally speaking he’s thought of as the hotter of the Russo brothers, but my Russo crush has always been solely reserved for Warren. A man in charge just does it for me, what can I say? It’s like having someone around who knows when to cut the fuse box, but on a much bigger scale. The reassurance that you’re in good hands in case of an emergency. Well, whatever. We all have our kinks. I guess Warren’s mine.

Dinner is delicious. I contemplate how I can find more fake dates to wedding receptions as I down another perfect bite of salmon. It’s sorta genius. I get to dress up, and I get free dinner. All while doing what is the equivalent of charity.