Surprised Ever After

Ch 1: Chadrick Maxwell

Ashton

The evening passes slowly. After a long and horrendous flight, all I want now is to be home and to have Char's warm body against mine. Yet here I am in my dinner suit, sitting in my mother's vintage accent chair with a glass of champagne in my hand, watching my girlfriend in another man's arms — Chadrick Maxwell.

Under the crystal chandelier's golden light, she stands rather rigidly, her posture wrapped in her loose green chiffon dress. Her arm stretches out to hold Chadrick's hand while her other hand rests on his upper arm. Her knees bend slightly, but they look uncomfortable. She frowns as her brown eyes stare blankly over his shoulder, a sign that she's concentrating.

"You're nailing it, Charlie!" cries Emily on top of the tango music that floats through the drawing room's air, her eyes fixed on Char's golden high heels. "Backward, backward, to the side, yes...bend!"

"Oh, no!" Char squeaks and jumps backward. Instead of bending backward, she took another step forward, successfully stomping on Chadrick's shoe. "Did I hurt you?" she asks, glancing down at Chadrick's feet with a horror look, and then up at his grimacing face.

"How can you hurt me? You're as light as a feather," he says, forcing a laugh, but I'm sure she got him good. "Though I'm sure you have a way to hurt a man."

I shake my head at his cheesy reply. Back at university, he was an infamous womanizer who cared more about the number of women he bedded every week instead of the number of his own GPA. Though it was a long time ago, old habits die hard.

Char puts her hand on her chest, releasing a deep breath of relief. "Okay. I need to take a break. This dance is way harder than I thought, and I don't want to ruin your expensive shoes."

"Nah, don't worry about it." Chadrick looks down at his shiny black shoes. "I can send the bill on the damage to Ash."

"I want to see you try," I say, opening my arm as Char saunters in my direction and throws herself at me. The mix of her perfume and her sweat invades my nostrils; her addictive scent. Sitting on the armrest, she grabs the glass from my hold and takes a few gulps of the champagne. "Hey," I protest.

"Takes you forever to finish it up, anyway. And you're too tired for alcohol tonight," she replies. "Actually, we should go home after they finish dancing."

"They can do this all night."

To prove my point, a cry of excitement fills the room as a new song starts, Objection by Shakira. Emily's oldest daughter jumps up with Dickson's hand in tow, while Emily and Chadrick are already in position.

"And it's amazing how well Chad blends in with the notoriously difficult Knights," Char adds. "He hasn't even had his first day at Trisure."

"For your information, we are not that difficult."

"U-huh."

"And my family knew Maxwell from more than a decade ago. He's no stranger."

"Still." She shrugs and leans into me while watching people shuffling, bouncing, twirling, and laughing. "Look at them. Oh my god, look at Peyton. She has her mom's moves. Damn."

It's fair to say that Peyton has better moves than Emily. If I recall it correctly, my sister sent her to ballet class in her early years. "My family is always keen on dancing."

"I can see that. They have the moves. Very natural." She glances at me and smirks. "Well, except you."

And my late father, I add in my head. I refrain from saying it out loud because it feels weird to bring him up into a conversation while Frederick Sauer was here a little hour ago, attending the dinner invitation. The thought prompts me to glance at my mother, who sits at the other end of the room, engrossed in a serious talk with Emily's husband. They're probably discussing his new role since Trisure is undergoing an organizational restructuring right now.