ALL THE LOVE WE LEAVE BEHIND

Chapter 42

[Saturday evening]

"May I have this dance?"

The Chris Batt look-alike in the 9 trailers suit and tie, requested, with a charming grin on his heart shaped face. He really wasn't bad looking, with his highlighted cheekbones, fusilli shaped hair, eyes that hosted a light shade of black, his right cheek that had a birthmark embedded in his skin, making him appear a lot more innocent than he should have. He also had a sturdy build - which was more than visible through his white buttoned shirt - looked about a year older than me, and the way he asked for the dance wasn't rude either, but I wasn't in the mood to say yes.
"Maybe a little later."
I muttered, hoping it didn't sound as rude as it did, but thankfully the gentleman smiled and walked over to the next pretty girl on the table across from me, as I sighed while he slipped his hand in hers and gilded her feet across the dance floor.

I wasn't upset that he did that. It was a party, and when one girl says no, you go to the next. That was understood, so I wasn't mad about that. But I was crabby - about what? I had no idea - something told me it had to do with the fact that I hadn't received anything from Dylan as yet. Nothing. It was like the past month never happened in his eyes, and I really tried to not let it bother me, but it did. It just did.
I was grateful, though, for the distractions that kept my mind preoccupied from time to time. After yesterday's breakthrough with my mom, I had to say I felt at ease - like there was a reason for my fallout with Dylan, there was a reason why everything happened the way it did- and now it was all coming together like the pieces of a puzzle.

I showed her my art pieces - the one that I sketched while in London. We also sat and looked through the entire portfolio that Dylan had made- I didn't have the official version, but I did own the digital copy, so we worked with what I had. Of course, she had her criticism ready, but even with that, she told me that she was proud of me, proud of everything.

She didn't immediately agree though to perusing art. She told me it needed time, it was a hobby, and it needed to grow into a passion - only then would it be something that I could make a career of.
Her logic made sense, as did the fact that I had already wasted a year studying corporate law, but Stetson offered degrees in Art, and we had a week of orientation- career week - so I could sort out my classes then, and see if it's actually something I could go into. It made sense to me, and it made sense to her, so I decided to go with it. She did tell me not to make the decision out of haste, though. If I did end up dropping law and taking art, then I couldn't go back, so I really, really needed to think this through.
There was hardly any time for thinking, though. The entire morning was flooded with getting the house cleaned for the evening party. The afternoon was spent brunching, and the night before was spent with a dinner hosted from the groom's side - that's where I got a glimpse of what Zain's family was like, and I had to say I was not at all disappointed. They were everything Lauren described, if not more, and I had to say that Zain had gotten even more good-looking than before. I however, did not get a chance to directly talk to him, thanks to the dinner table being as long as the River Nile - okay, maybe shorter, but he was at the other end of it, so apart from a mere 'hello,' our conversation didn't get very far.
Still, the dinner was pleasant, and their servings were lavishly huge. Not to mention, they were exotic, so there was a blend of new items for me to try. I almost ended up eating a bite of every single one of them, but I had to say, my utmost favorite was the mouthwatering halwa they served for dessert- it was like a warm flower on the outside, with a dropping temperature of vanilla ice cream melting on the inside-they said they had an uncle who mastered this idea from Istanbul, when he once visited. Oh! Did I mention their family traveled a lot? Like an insane amount, because in the span of 2 hours, I heard stories from practically every part of the world, as I gave Lauren an envious glare. She really had won the jackpot.
Nevertheless, the festivities continued, and tonight was our night to show them who the real party people were. I ended up helping my mother decorate the garden in our backyard-which, after a couple of hours, looked like a banquet hall. The tables were layered with a white cloth of organza, and everything from the mahogany built dance floor to the white Tiffany chairs, and Lenox Portola cutlery was glazed with refinement.
The walls itself were shimmered in soft sparkles of fairy lights, forming an invisible tent-line under the night sky. Each table was laden with daisy flowers fitted firmly in milk bottle vases. The doorway outside was circled in plants, inviting even the butterflies to come in and join the feast. Speaking of feast - we came a pretty close second to our rival family.
We had an entire section dedicated to seafood - from dynamite prawns, sushi platters-California rolls at my request - lobsters in ice, salmon and even shrimp. Next, we had a kids table, where french fries, drumsticks, munchkins, rainbow sandwiches, mini burgers - chicken and beef- and chocolate drenched marshmallows were the norm. Truth be told, I ate more from the kid's table than I did the adults. Finally, for drinks we served pink lemonade and my mom's famous Piña coladas recipe came in handy, because those glasses needed to be refilled by the minute. Now just to make everyone's day all the more sweet, we bought out desert- eclairs, chocolate fudge ice cream, banana cream pie and this drizzling lava cake that made my stomach forget what 'being full' even was - now the cake, was no halwa, but it sure as hell deserved the title of, chef's kiss.
It was all going fine, really, till the couples took over the dance floor, and the music drifted to a gibberish tune. The melody wasn't bad, but the lyrics were entirely foreign.

"What's my beautiful sister doing lounging around when she should be dancing?"
Zain charmingly spoke, as he made his way to me, and I loosened my grip on the 3rd Piña colada glass- Or was it my 4th?
"You mean sister-in-law." I set my head back into focus, as he pulled out a seat next to me, pouting through his honey coated eyes.
I did mention that he had a speck of golden hues in his eyes right? As well as tanned skin, perfect teeth, a trimmed beard and the most sleek looking haircut. If he wasn't as old as he was, and of-course wasn't head over heels for my sister, I'd probably want him. But, the facts remained-he was too old for me, not my type, and after the details Lauren had shared with me about their time spent, it was yuck to think of him as anything but my brother-in-law.
"No. You remind me of Sophie."
He glanced at his sister munching a sandwich in the corner, as I gazed at her. She did look a lot like him, with the natural curls and light colored eyes. The only thing different about her was how she had a snow-white complexion, making me wonder what typical fruits they consume to make their skin appear that radiant?
"So you're saying I'm a 10-year-old?"
I raised my eyebrow, slightly surprised at how our first real conversation was taking place.
"-12, and yes, you're acting like one."
He threw the insult, but I decided to be mature and ignore it.
"Where's your fiancé?"
I asked, with my palm holding my chin.
"She's being pulled across the dance floor against her own will."
He pointed at my dad dancing with her, as I giggled at the way the bride was expected to dance with everyone of the family members- it was adorable, but funny in its own way.
"So you're here to mope because you lost your girl to the better man?" I teased back, as he crossed his eyebrows - thankfully, he shot back with humor, and didn't take offense.