“That's what Meg said. We've had a nice time talking. I just hope Bix doesn't tell him a lot of horrible stories about me while we're dancing.” She laughed at the thought, but she didn't really care. She wasn't trying to impress Andrew. He wasn't that kind of person. He was the sort of man you could let your hair down with, and be normal. And she liked that. She could see how he would make a great friend. He didn't appeal to her in any other context. He was a nice-looking man, very handsome actually. But she wasn't interested in dating anymore, and he didn't seem particularly interested in her either. He was just as happy talking to Steven and Bix as he was to Paris, which was one of the things she liked about him.
And when Richard brought her back, Andrew had gone off to talk to someone at another table. Bix tried to tell her what a terrific guy he was, and she brushed him off, and said she had no interest. It wasn't even about chemistry now, or the lack of it. She was no longer interested in dating. At all. She liked her life the way it was, just as he did.
“Don't tell me this is another Malcolm Ford,” Bix said with a look of annoyance. She had become absolutely impossible since Jean-Pierre. She had surrounded herself with insuperable walls. “If you have no chemistry with this guy, then you must have an aversion to handsome, intelligent, nicely behaved men. Malcolm Ford is one of the smartest, nicest, best-looking guys I've ever met, and if you'd had the brains to go after him, or even talk to him, instead of that Parisian kid, you'd be married by now, Paris,” he scolded her with a stern expression.
“I don't want to be married,” she said happily, looking smug about it.
“Am I interrupting something?” Andrew asked as he sat down again, and Bix rolled his eyes and said she was impossible.
“Not at all. I just said I don't want to be married again.”
“That's too bad,” Andrew said pleasantly, “I don't disagree with you, but it's nice when it works out well. It's hard to get all the pieces of the puzzle lined up just right so they fit. But when they do, there's nothing better. Look at Meg and Richard.” They both smiled at the couple kissing on the dance floor.
“She's a lot younger than I am,” Paris laughed. “And as you said yourself, it takes a lot of energy. I'm not sure I have it. In fact, I'm sure I don't.”
“That's my problem too.” He smiled at her, and Bix groaned.
“The two of you need vitamins. If more people felt like you about marriage,” Bix said pointedly to her, “we'd be out of business.” They all laughed at his comment. He had a point. The lion's share of his business, and the real moneymaker, was weddings.
“Marriage is for the young,” Paris said emphatically.
“Marriage is for the young at heart,” Bix corrected.
“Marriage is not for sissies,” Andrew added, and they all laughed.
“Good point,” Steven said, entering the conversation. And a little while later they all left the tables, talked to friends, moved around, and the young people danced for hours. It was three o'clock in the morning when Paris and Bix left the wedding. Peter and Rachel had left hours before, and hadn't even stayed to watch Meg toss the bouquet. Rachel wanted to go to the hotel to nurse the baby, and the boys were exhausted. So Peter went with her, although he would have liked to stay, and have a few moments' conversation with Paris, if only to thank her, but it never happened. And Paris was relieved it hadn't. She had nothing left to say to him. There was too much water under the bridge now, and he didn't need to thank her. They had done it for their daughter. All Paris wanted was healing, and she was getting there. There were scars, she knew, but she could live with them. She was at peace now. It had taken a long time.
