QUENTIN

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference..." Seeing her glide into the Grand Lobby makes me murmur the Serenity Prayer. 

She's dressed up like a princess. I'm betting that her skin smells better than the scent of every flower in the desert. It once felt like velvet in my hands. I loved kissing each one of her freckles. They made her even more beautiful. Their pattern lets me know I'm in awe of my ex-wife. There's no gown or mask that can conceal her sculpted body from me. Somewhere in my brain, there's a treasure map ingrained with every ridge and valley of this woman. Being in her proximity in this atmosphere, my heart beats to the rhythm of love I still harbor for her.

The dusty pink full skirt of the ball gown she chose to wear tonight makes me reminisce about the wedding dress she wore in the shul, the synagogue, when we got married. It had a butter soft outer layer of tulle, giving her a bateau neckline and refined train all at once. The fabric was embellished with embroidery resembling flocks of snow. A beautiful combination with her beauty marks. 

Since the both of us were born and raised in Reform Judaism, there weren't many traditions or regulations we had to uphold. However, my ex-wife's Orthodox grandmother was our shadchanit, our matchmaker, so we chose to incorporate a few. Grandma's attendance was a small miracle in and of itself, because contact between Orthodox and Reform Jews; a rarity. Even within families. Dinah might have known deep down inside her heart that it'd be the last wedding she could arrange because of her health and respectable age. For her favorite grandchild, she chose to face the possible scrutiny of her strict Memphis community.

You read that right. Dinah Margolis reined me back into my heritage and former stomping ground three years ago. At the age of twenty-eight, she thought it was high time for me to be a devoted husband. Not surprisingly, she knew precisely who would be my complementary counterpart. The apple of her eye was getting up there in age at twenty-three, so for Jewish standards, we were both quite late when it came to marriage. Dear Mrs. Margolis never forgot I once told her I fancied her granddaughter.

Reliving the memories, I realize for the second time this evening that indeed nothing has changed, though this Jewish boy now has a Christian prayer in his repertoire. It's a blessing I haven't needed it for any twelve-step-program. And to be honest, I could use a drink to redirect me from this trip down memory lane.

Turning around to head to the bar, someone clasps my shoulder. "I've seen that longing stare before. I was there that day, and you're doing it again. Maybe even more intense. So no drinking for you yet. Go to her."

"And say what, Trace?" I ask him, looking up from his hand on my right shoulder to the bemused smile on his lips.

I know I can't fool this man. Almost ten years ago, I was Deacon before he actually came around the estate and knocked on its door. I couldn't hold a note to save my life, so Trace and Maurin put me to work in the office, eventually becoming one of the youngest A&R managers in Music City. Feeling at home, I earned myself a spot in the newly forged Ellis family, putting Memphis and all it meant in the back of my head. That went quite well until Dinah Margolis came knocking and put my and my bride's life in a tailspin.

I might have blown out thirty-one birthday candles since, but the dear, very much deceased savta still scares the bejesus out of me. I can't pinpoint why, but I'm certain Grandma Dinah swerves around the hotel tonight, coaxing me in this conversation with Trace.

"True love always finds its way, Q."

I let out an irritated huff. "Everyone on our side of the family knows damn well we didn't marry for love. She wanted an escape out of restrictive Memphis, and because I was a lovesick fool, I went along with her perfect arrangement. Music was her first love and it'll be her last."

"Breaking the glass at the end of the wedding ceremony symbolized that you could put your foot down for the last time without consulting your wife. But, you granted her a divorce after she told you she felt secure enough to be independent. That was two years ago, Quentin. That means you're a single man, so try and put your foot down again, son."

"Apparently, she came to the party with Harlowe..." I tip my head in their direction so Trace can follow my renewed line of sight.

"Ah, great!" Trace gestures with his pointer finger like he's got an idea. "I believe I owe her an apology for the Neanderthal behavior of my boys. Come on, I'll go distract her, together with a groveling Deacon. Where's he anyway?"

"Last I know, he went to take a leak, but I haven't seen him since. Maybe he found Momo right after."

"Sounds legit. I'll whisk Harlowe away then and surprise Deacon and Maurin. Can't wait to see D's face when he's forced to talk to her." Trace chuckles. I nervously do the same. Not because of the predicament my best friend is in, but because we're closing in on the Nickel women.

To my astonishment, I see Alexa Wright with them. I mouth a silent warning to my boss, he's one step ahead of me though. Literally and figuratively. Leaving me with my dusty pink princess ex-wife.

"Good evening, Jinjit. Can I get you a refill or a new drink?" It rolls off my tongue easily.

So far, so good. Keep it neutral.

By the way her back muscles and shoulders move, I can tell she recognizes my nickname. She lets go of her glass and pushes herself away from the bar table so she can face me. We both take a breath and a beat of silence to center ourselves.

"Good evening, Cholmi..."

I've spoken to her countless times over the last two years. These conversations revolved around music or our shared interests because of our respective jobs at both record labels. They all were polite and superficial. Besides the Ellis family, of course, she absolutely didn't want anyone with any important standing in Nashville to know we've gotten hitched. Or that we once were. Not another single soul knows about our shared history, and the two of us never revisited it either.

She wanted to carve her own path to success when she found her bearings in her new hometown. After a court in Memphis - yes, this was premeditated as well - gave us our divorce ruling, and Trace arranged some non-disclosure agreements for the people around us who knew, my ex-wife never really looked back, knowing Nashville was laying at her feet. With her spontaneous personality and contagious laughter, it didn't take her more than a hot minute to land a promising job at Nickel Recording and Publishing.

The divorce and her new job at our nemesis severely bruised my heart and ego. But upon meeting her when we were both teenagers, she was the girl-next-door, I already understood she lived her life in a constant fight-or-flight mode. She hated it when she was asked to conform to the things that were expected of her. She didn't want to be pressured to fit into the mold of the Jewish homemaker. Although that idea is long gone in Reform Judaism, she found the Orthodox influence of her older, extended family members still too stifling in Memphis. To be honest, it's the same reason I moved to Nashville around the age of twenty.

When we reconnected eight years later, because of savta Dinah's proposed union, she flocked to me like bees to honey. At the same time, I won't sell her short. During our year-long marriage, we formed a genuine bond that was based on our mutual teenage attraction. That attraction morphed into a deep understanding of each other and each other's wants and needs. Once we organically decided to have sex - we were legally husband and wife after all - the floodgates of pleasure opened and engulfed us in undeniable, unstoppable, wild waves of intense love and primal sex. 

I'm not afraid to say we've put the Kamasutra to shame. We were on an exploration. Together. So, my ex-wife isn't as coldhearted and tough as she comes across. It's all an exterior to hide a cheeky and curious, warmblooded woman. Our marriage was anything but one sided.

To hear her answer me with her chosen nickname for me after all this time, must be proof of my earlier statement. She has to be affected by our festive surroundings as much as I am.

"You look handsome in your suit and mask, Quentin. Green fits you," she compliments me, tapping my lapel with her left hand. "It makes the fade of your hair and beard stand out." She goes on while our gazes lock, her hand absentmindedly moving to curl her fingers in my facial hair. "The scruff makes you an irresistible man, Mr. Hix."

Well, fuck me.

I slowly grab her hand off my cheek to kiss it lightly before she lowers it. "Thank you, Gorgeous. Let me get you that drink. Be back soon."

What the hell just happened here?

"Keep it cool, calm and collected," I tell myself on the way to the cocktail bar.

Order her usual and take it from there.

When I spot Maurin and Trace at the end of the bar, they wink at me knowingly.

Fuckers. Make a mental note, Q. Never again attend a party where Momo was in charge of the guest list. She tricked me. Trace happily went along with it. Grrr...

It takes me a while to return to her table. Lots of guests want to talk with me or offer congratulations. I smile, politely thank them, and send them on their way to find the birthday boy.

When I see an opportunity to sneakily rest one of my hands on her lower back, I take it. Her breathing catches instantly and she starts to shiver. "Excuse me, Gorgeous. One raspberry lemon drop for the lady."

"Y-You've remembered my favorite..." she stammers a bit.

"Of course, I have. With extra raspberries. You look so much cuter with something in your mouth." It's out before I realize exactly what I've said. Or better yet, implied. 

There goes my resolution to not make things awkward and sexual.

To my surprise, she doesn't miss a beat. She picks up the raspberries, does sultry, crafty little lip tricks, and almost floors me with the words that come out of her mouth next. "Dance with me, Cholmi. Behind these hazel eyes lay tons of regrets. I don't want this moment to end between us."

She captures my gaze with widened eyes, as if she's not completely sure what or why she's asking me. I grab her shaking hands to cup them in my own. "Are you sure, Jinjit?" My body braces for her answer like it'll collide with a derailed freight train in mere seconds. Nothing of the sort happens.

She bashfully replies to my question with a nod in the affirmative. To reinforce her gesture, she pulls me into a darkened corner of the dancefloor that is lit up with hundreds of candles and fairy lights. I've got to hand it to Maurin, she knows how to create an air of mystique around tonight's masquerade ball. I vaguely register that Alana and Gale switch places on the stage. Here I am, about to slow dance with my ex-wife, and if that wasn't enough, she pulls herself so snug in my embrace her sweetheart bodice presses her cleavage into a position I can't ignore. It makes us both giggle.

Having her in my arms, holding her close against my chest, feels awkward and familiar at the same time. Maybe even a little forbidden because of our history, the two of us dancing in the shadows of the dance floor. When all the colors of her hazel eyes seem to explode into a joyous display of fireworks, the only thing I experience is the unwavering connection between us. Gratitude is manifesting itself in our bodies.

"Q...," she croaks out from under my chin. I bow my head towards her to give her my full attention. The lavender perfume she dabbled on the column of her neck awakens a dangerous, nostalgic urge within me. I manage to restrain myself. Barely. When her minty breath caresses my ear, I'm a goner. It sets off a chain reaction of goosebumps. The first sign I'm beginning to crack under our burning hot tension. I notice her breathing is as irregular as mine. She takes a few short breaths.

Pressing my cheek against hers, I decide to strengthen our intimate hold so we can sway from side to side to the cadence of our blooming emotions. "Listen to me, Quentin," she whispers. "Seems like just yesterday you were a part of me. I used to stand so tall, I used to be so strong. Your arms around me tight. Everything, it felt so right. Unbreakable, like nothing could go wrong..."

"Oh, Maya..."