“Whoa, dude! What happened here? It looks like a war zone.”

“Mike, would you just get in here already.”

“Seriously, what happened in here?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure, I’ll buy that,” he says without an ounce of sincerity.

I’m tearing through the room like a madman in the hopes of finding something, anything that will help me find Donna. I called the front desk hoping that maybe she was staying in this hotel, but no go.

Leaning against the bedroom door, Mike starts, “You know, I had a strange dream last night.”

“What?” Nope, nothing left under the bed. Did we use the shower last night? We must have. Or maybe the tub? There could be a clue there; I should check.

“Yeah, so, you were in it.”

Huh?

“Mike, seriously, you took a woman back to your room last night and you were dreaming about me? You don’t see something wrong with this picture?”

“Hey, I didn’t think of you when I was with her,” he justifies.

“I hope not,” I mutter.

I’d say he’s glaring at me, but since I’m too busy searching for clues to locate the elusive Donnatella Moss, I can’t be sure.

“I take it you don’t want to hear about my dream.” He sounds wounded.

But right now, I could care less. “You managed to figure that out all by yourself?”

“You wanna tell me why you’re tearing through the room?”

Isn’t it obvious? “I’m looking for something.”

“Believe it or not, I managed to figure that much out for myself,” he retorts.

“Glad to know our law enforcement personnel are as sharp as ever,” I shoot back, distracted.

There is nothing here that will help me find Donna. Absolutely nothing. Not even a scrap of clothing with her name, address, and phone number written on the care label.

There are women who write those details into their clothes, right?

Right.

I am so screwed.

It only now occurs to me that my good friend Mike Casper here could probably help me out. I mean, he’s an FBI agent; he’s trained in the art of finding people.

“Actually,” I start, “You know, you could probably help.”

“I could?” He smirks.

Great, he’s trying to be funny.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Why would I wanna do that?” he jokes.

My reply isn’t humorous. “Because this is serious.”

“What do you need?” he asks, automatically kicking into ’work’ mode.

“I need you to find someone. A woman, to be precise.”

“I’m gonna need more than just her gender, Josh.”

“Her name is Donnatella Moss, she’s a doctor, tall, kinda willowy with long blond hair…” I start, trying to remember every detail about the way she looks—It’s not all that difficult. I close my eyes and I remember every nuance, every curve, and every beauty spot. Images of her moving gracefully, even in the most heated moments of our--

Mike chuckles.

“What?”

“In my strange dream that you don’t want to know about--”

“Could you possibly get to the point sometime today?”

“There was a girl--”

“With long blond hair?” My voice just went squeaky high there.

“Yep.”

I have a sinking feeling that his dream, may not, in fact, have been a dream.

“What happened?”

I’m not sure I want the answer to this.

“I don’t know exactly… it started off with you and— you know what, I don’t think you’re gonna want the details. Let’s just say you had a… colourful evening.”

Oh. So… um… oh.

“Oh, and you ended up marrying her.”

I hate my life.

“How much of last night do you remember?” I ask tentatively.

“Not much. Why?”

“I’m just trying to piece together some events.”

“Ok-ay,” he nods, not comprehending.

Even though I’m trying my absolute best not to, I may sound a little desperate now. “I just need you to remember whatever you can.”

“You were distracted, I think.”

I was?

“There was alcohol, poker, and a stripper—and hey,” he stops, sounding petulant, “She was all over you.”

“She?”

“Why the hell is it that the strippers always fawn over you?”

“I don’t know, but can we move this story on?” I’m quickly losing any patience.

“Ok, I’m either not remember things correctly or—no, I can’t be remembering this right.” He’s grinning.

“Mike.”

“You had one beer, you were winning at poker, and the stripper was all over you—”

“And I wasn’t interested.”

“Yeah, she was doing, you know, her thing, the guys were all having fun but you were distracted, something about…” he takes a moment to recall the nature of my distraction… “Something about the way she laughed. Or was it her smile?” he shrugs. “Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop thinking about some woman you met earlier, so you decided to go find… her…” He trails off as realisation dawns on him and he starts to chuckle.

“You know, you can stop laughing anytime now.”

My-so-called-friend is enjoying my pain.

“You married her. You actually married her?”

“Yes,” I sigh, frustrated.

“So my dream wasn’t so much a dream, as it was reality?”

I glare at him. “Yes again.”

He continues to laugh. “In that case, I’d call CJ and give her a heads up, because the things I remember…” I should point out that he’s still laughing. “Gotta hand it to you, Josh, I honestly didn’t think you could top last time, but this… Wait till I tell the guys about this.”

And I call this guy a friend. “You know that can’t happen, right?”

“Relax, I was kidding.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Trust me, from where I’m standing, it is.”

“I’m beginning to wonder how the hell this friendship lasted so long--”

“You actually married this girl?”

“Yes,” I grind out.

“Do you know anything about her at all? I can’t even remember if you mentioned her name. You just kept muttering about how the stripper wasn’t her.”

“Her name is Donnatella Moss.”

“Pretty, exotic.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Hell, Josh, what do you want me to say? You married a virtual stranger.” He proceeds to start laughing again and I glare at him. “CJ is gonna--”

“Mike!”

“Sorry. How do you need me to help?”

“You know what happens if CJ or Leo find out about this?”

“I’d be more worried about your mother finding out,” he mutters, still grinning.

“I’m trying to deal with one problem at a time here.” I really don’t want to think about my mother knowing about this.

“Sorry. Ok, so what happens when either CJ or Leo realise you got drunk and married a stranger?” he asks rhetorically. “You get your ass kicked?”

My ass is not the part of my anatomy I’m worried about. “Your ass isn’t gonna be safe either, my friend.”

“Me? What the hell did I do?” Bless him, he actually looks afraid.

“You’re the sensible one. CJ expects this of me—well not so much the getting married, but you know, ’Doing Something Stupid When Drunk’ thing. You, though, she expects you to keep me in check.”

“You’re forty-three years old, she doesn’t think you can take care of yourself?” I give him a look. I have no idea what the ’look’ is saying, but I give him one nonetheless. “I guess not,” he mutters. I glare at him. “It could be worse.”

How?

He answers my unspoken question with a grin that literally looks like it could split his face in half. “You could have gotten drunk and married an ex—your ex’s aren’t women that CJ wants you married to.”

I glare at him.

My ex’s aren’t women Iwant to be married to.

He clears his throat. “So, um, we need to find—sorry, what was her name again?”

“Donnatella Moss.”

“And she’s a doctor. Tall. Blond. Willowy?” he recounts.

“Yeah.”

“What do you remember about last night?” he asks.

“Not much, snippets of things we did - Donna and I - but not any conversations, just… things,” I say, struggling for an appropriate way of saying all I can remember are moments when we were… connecting. Intimately.

“She left while you were sleeping? So she probably doesn’t remember getting married.”

“No,” I sigh, “I woke up with her. We got dressed and then realised we did more than just have sex last night. Leo called and she left when I wasn’t looking.”

“She just left?” He’s incredulous.

Welcome to the club, buddy.

“Yep. She didn’t leave an address or a number, so I have no way of contacting her--”

“And you criticise my taste in women.”

“--Which means,” I talk over him, “I’m married and I have no freaking idea where my wife is--”

“Making it harder for you to work your way out of this situation, hence you needing me to find her,” he surmises.

“Yeah, so if you could get right on that, it would be great.”

“Sure.” He takes out his cell phone and hits speed dial. “She’s a doctor, right?”

“Yeah. At least, she said she was.”

“We can track her through her medical licence then.”

“Really? We can do that?”

What the hell? I am losing it. I know we can do that.

“Josh, I know you’ve woken up with a shock to the system, but seriously man, pull yourself together.”

I stare at my shoes and nod, slowly.

“Also, I’d give CJ a call.”

“I was kinda hoping we’d get this resolved before I have to get back to DC. All CJ has to know is that there was a problem and I fixed it.”

“Josh, jokes aside, you woke up married this morning. You don’t want Leo, CJ or your mother to find out about this from someone else, and since you got married in Vegas, it’s not all that implausible that they will.”

“I guess.”

“Yeah, hi, just give me a sec,” Mike answers into the phone. “I’m gonna…” he nod’s toward the living room, leaving with one last pointed look at the phone on the nightstand.

I bite the bullet and hit speed dial on my cell phone wondering if it’s at all possible for CJ to make sure I can never have any children over the phone.

*

“Which rule did you break?”

I’m pretty sure I broke all of them, but what CJ doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

I hope.

“And good day to you to, CJ.”

“Which rule did you break?”

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you how to answer the phone?”

“My parents raised me just fine, Josh.”

“Well, I would have thought that, but by the way you answered the phone--”

“I know you and I know that you’re about to ruin what was shaping up to be an agreeable day by giving me a colossal headache, so I’ve decided to skip the pleasantries.”

She’s right, but still…

“That hurts, CJ. You have no faith in me.”

“You missed staff.”

I nod even though she can’t see me.

“Yes.”

“Margaret called you six times, paged you four times and had your assistant call you another four times. You failed to answer the phone repeatedly.”

“Er… probably.”

“No ’probably’ about it, Josh. You didn’t answer the phone.”

“No,” I concede, “I was sleeping.”

“Josh, when in the last five years have you managed to sleep through your cell phone ringing?”

“Never?”

“So I know at the very least you got drunk.”

At thevery least.

“You’re freaky, you know that?”

“I’m not freaky, Josh, you’re just predictable.”

What? I am not predictable.

“I am not predictable.”

“What ever you say, mi amore.” Content that she’s messed with my head enough, she softens her tone and asks, “So, did you have a good time last night?”

“Yes.” By all accounts I had a fantastic night last night. It’s just this morning that sucked. “CJ…”

“Yeah? Wait--Come in! Hold on a second, Josh,” CJ stops.

“Message from Cleo: Leo wanted Josh on the two o’clock flight back, so she switched his reservations,” Carol states.

“I’m supposed to let you know you have a two o’clock flight back.”

“Yeah, I got that. It’s not all that difficult since I’m on speaker phone.”

“Someone’s in a good mood. So, you were about to make me jealous with stories about what a great time you had?”

I have absolutely no idea how to start this conversation.

“You know how you’re always saying that I should meet a nice girl and settle down?”

I’m going for the featherweight approach.

“Josh, I have never said that.”

“Are you sure? Because--”

“Yes, I’m positive, Josh, I think you’re mixing me up with you mother there.”

“Press Secretary, Mom, what’s the difference really?”

“The difference there, Idiot Boy, is that unlike you’re mother, I have no qualms about destroying your manhood and making sure you can’t populate the world with little versions of-- Wait. Wait. You met someone?”

“You could say that,” I mumble.

“Seriously?” Why is she sounding shocked? It’s not all that implausible that I could meet someone.

“Yes.”

“Met someone as in one of the regular women you have trysts with? Or actually met someone?”

“My ’regular women’? What the hell does that mean?”

Another voice casually booms across the phone. “You know, some over educated twit in the political field who thinks she has more power and political prudence than she actually does.”

I’m sorry—What?

That is not an accurate description of the women I date.

“Carol, he can hear you.” CJ’s trying her best to hold in her laughter.

“I thought you just took him off the speaker phone.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Oh,” is her only reply. “I’m gonna go back out there then.” I assume by ’out there’ she’s referring to her little cubical outside CJ’s office.

There’s silence for a few moments.

“You can speak now, Josh.”

“I’m not on speaker phone anymore am I?” I need to be sure here.

“No, you’re not.”

“And we’re alone?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Josh” she growls.

“The support staff spends time assessing my girlfriends?” I ask, my voice a little high.

“They like to gossip.”

“Should I be worried?”

“They have you pegged down as some kind of Casanova, so I wouldn’t worry about it right now. Although your taste in women has been questioned time-and-time again.”

“I can live with that.”

“Except…”

“’Except what?”

“There is some debate as to how… Considerate you’d be.”

They can’t be serious.

“Considerate? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

“Nope. Apparently, they think your need to have everything done yesterday would be carried into your love making.”

“That’s not funny, CJ.”

“I know, Josh.” I can just see the evil twinkle in her eyes.

“Tell them to ask Mandy, or Sarah, or Joey, Beth, Janice, Stephanie, Rose—”

“Josh, you should probably quit with the names.”

“Hell, tell them to ask Amy even. I’m all kinds of considerate!”

If I ever find Donna, you can ask her too.

“Yeah, about that, you don’t want them asking Mandy.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Women like their revenge, Josh.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“You have to do something.”

“Like what? It’s just the Senior Assistants gossiping. Forget about it--”

“I don’t think I will forget about it.”

“--Oh, and probably the interns. I’d add to that the women on the Hill and some men, too. Hell you know what, I’m sure every woman in DC has at some point discussed your skills as a lover, Josh.”

“You’re playing with me here,” I realise.

“Yes, but it’s probably all true. So, back to this woman, is she the next one-month-relationship?”

“No.”

“So…?”

“’So’ what?”

“Josh! Tell me about her,” she commands, impatiently.

“She’s--” What am I supposed to say to that?

“Yes?”

I really have no idea what I can say about Donna.

“I did something stupid last night.”

“Like what? And more importantly, were there any witnesses? And we’re getting back to this mystery woman,” she warns.

“I have no idea if there were any witnesses, but there was an accomplice.”

CJ answers with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“I got drunk last night--”

“That’s not news to me, Josh.”

“--And while I was drunk… I ah, I kinda got married. And I don’t really know her all that well.”

CJ tries to hold her laughter in for a moment, but then can’t help herself. I haven’t heard her laugh this freely in a long, long time, which is shame since she has an amazing laugh.

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you got married last night.”

I don’t answer.

“Josh?” I’m staring at my shoes. “Josh, you’re not serious, right? You didn’t just live out a cliché, did you?”

“It gets worse.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you married a First Daughter.”

“CJ! How much of a idiot do you think I am?”

“YOU GOT DRUNK AND MARRIED SOME STRANGER!” Damn. My ear. “And you want to know how much of a dumb-ass I think you are!?”

Point taken.

“This is exactly what we need, Josh. The White House Deputy Chief of Staff acting like some drunken frat boy getting his boxers in a twist and marrying some floozy.”

“She’s not an idiot or a floozy CJ. And besides Mike, myself and obviously Donna, no one knows that the White House Deputy Chief of Staff got married, so calm down” At least, I hope no one else knows. I don’t think the guy who married us would have a clue about my position.

“Her name is Donna?”

“Donnatella Moss. She’s a doctor.”

“And she knows who you are?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sure she won’t tell anyone about this?”

“Based on her reaction, I highly doubt it.”

“Her reaction?”

“She freaked when she found out who I was.”

“Oh, ok.” CJ takes a deep breath and then remains silent for a moment. “I need to talk to her. Where is she now?”

I lie through my teeth and pray like hell that CJ doesn’t see through me. “She’s out talking a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yeah.” Please, please believe me.

“You let her leave your sight?”

Let isn’t the word I’d use.

“Yes.”

“She woke up married to the White House Deputy Chief of Staff. She probably needed a moment,” CJ muses out loud.

I hope to God that’s all it is. I really can’t understand otherwise why she would just leave without letting me know how to find her.

“When are you going to tell Leo?”

“I don’t know. I was kinda hoping to fix this mess before I have to tell him.”

“You need to tell him though, you know that right?”

“I’ll tell him when I get back later today.”

“And why does Mike know?”

“Huh?”

“Mike, how does he know?”

“He was there, when we, you know, tied the knot-- Don’t get pissed at him CJ, he was pretty out of it too.” I suddenly remember something with complete clarity. “And even if he wasn’t drunk, I don’t think he could have stopped me.”

“You don’t think he could have stopped you?” she repeats, incredulous.

“No, he couldn’t have,” I state, resolute.

I can hear CJ’s mind whirring through all the implications of that statement, and I’m truly surprised when she doesn’t question me further.

“Ok,” she sighs. “What are you going to do now?”

“Become an expert on Vegas annulment laws and procedures,” I answer lightly. My mind can’t handle any heavy discussions right now.

“Josh, what do you want me to do if I get the question?”

“I don’t know, but keep her name out of it.”

“Josh--”

“I’m not kidding, CJ; Keep her name out of it.”

“Josh, what did I tell you about the rules?”

“I swear to God, CJ, this will never happen again.”

*

“So, did you find her?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I know she specialises in paediatric medicine, she’s from Wisconsin but she’s teaching at John Hopkins at the moment--”

“And?” I inquire impatiently.

“She’s never broken the law, her parents are still alive--”

“Mike.”

“Look, I called her home and got the machine; called her parents place, left a message to call me back as soon as possible. I called the hospital in case she left a number for them to contact in an emergency, but they wouldn’t release the information. The only thing they would tell me is that she isn’t due back for two more weeks. I can’t tell you where she is right now.”

“What about her cell phone? Did you get a number?”

“If she has it with her, it’s not on.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Hope like hell you didn’t scare her away and wait for her to call?”

“Thanks,” I start, sarcastically. “Thanks so much for your help there.”

“No problem.”

Damn. I have less than an hour until lunch and three hours before my flight back..

What the hell do I do now?

Think.

 

……… “Yeah, she was doing, you know, her thing, the guys were all having fun but you were distracted, something about… Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop thinking about some woman you met earlier”………

 

“Ok, you said that I was distracted.”

“What?”

“Before, you said I was distracted when the stripper kept making a play at me. You said I kept thinking about her, which implies that I met her earlier in the day. You think any of the other guys were there with me when I first met her?”

“It’s worth a shot,” he shrugs. “I’m pretty sure I was there for your… initial meeting.”

“But you don’t remember it?”

“No.”

I put on my suit jacket, grab my wallet and the key card to the room. “So let’s go find someone who does.”

*

“Well that was a massive waste of time.”

“Josh.”

“Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You could try calming down.”

I don’t have the energy to glare at him-- that’s how frustrated I am.

“They only thing they could remember was that they thought she was hot.” I don’t need thatreminder.

“From what I remember they’re not wrong there,” Mike grins.

Well what do you know? I do have the energy to glare.

“I gotta say, I’ve never seen you get quite so possessive over a woman.”

What the hell? I raise an eyebrow in question.

“They were only commenting on her hotness.”

“Would you stop saying that?”

“Why?”

“Just—Because.”

“You know, most men would be flattered that other guys think their wives are hot.”

“Most men don’t like other men ogling their wives.” I scowl at him. “Especially not their friends.”

He smirks. “Sure.” He checks his watch. “So what do you want to do now, Sherlock?”

“Isn’t this your area of expertise?” I shoot back.

“You both got drunk last night.”

I have absolutely no idea where he’s going with this.

“It stands to reason you went to a bar, possibly one of the ones in this hotel. Someone could know where she’s staying.”

Something clicks in my brain and a memory comes rushing back. Every instinct in me wants to smile, but my mind brings me crashing back to reality.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m beginning to realise it’s not going to be easy to walk away from this if I can remember everything,” I sigh.

“Why do you have to walk away?”

I stare him for a moment.

“Come on, we need to go check out any place that sells alcohol in this hotel.”

“Yeah.”

*

I spend the next half hour banging my head against the proverbial brick wall because none of the bar staff know of Donna’s where abouts. Meanwhile, my friend Mike took great pleasure in watching me growl every time some underpaid idiot chose to remember Donna as…

“That hot blond chick? Nice ass. Legs, too. I would do her in an instant.”

We’re on our way back to my room when Mike stops short as if he’s just remembered something important.

“What?”

He gives me a look that’s somewhere between apologetic and scared as he reaches into his trouser pocket, pulls out his cell phone, searches through the memory, finally finds the number he’s looking for and then waits for a moment. “Hey, it’s me, Mike,” he says into the phone while I’m sidelined, confused, and close to losing it. “Yeah, I know… un huh… Listen, what room are you in? Seriously. Seriously? Wow, who’s shelling out for that? … Yeah, I know, I forgot … Ok-ay… Sure, I’ll talk to you later.” He ends the conversation.

And I’m thoroughly confused.

“What the hell was that?”

“You married well,” he grins.

Huh? “What?”

“She’s in the Penthouse Suite.”

Again. Huh? “Who is?”

“Ms Donnatella Moss, or Mrs Donnatella Lyman, I should say.” His grin only gets wider.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Wait, you could have just pulled out your phone and ended my misery an hour ago and didn’t think to do it until now?”

He holds his hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “I’m sorry Josh, I forgot how I met Mel.”

Mel?

“Penthouse suite? In this hotel?” I say as I start to head back toward the elevator. “I need to go see her.”

“There’s no point, she’s not there right now.”

“But you’re sure she’s staying in this hotel?”

“Not only is she in this hotel, she’s paying for the use of the most expensive suite. The entire floor, actually.”

“Front desk said she wasn’t registered--”

“No, the room is under the Bride’s name.”

“But she’s paying for it?”

“That’s what Melanie said.”

“Melanie?”

“Yeah, my date last night.”

“Ok, seriously, I’m hung over, I have a meeting in less than ten minutes which I’m mentally trying to prep for and I’m still trying to get used to the fact that I woke up married and it took my wife less than an hour to walk out on me. My brain can’t take anymore right now; you gotta spell this out for me.”

He casually places his hands in his trouser pockets, leans back against the wall and says, “You honestly don’t remember a thing, do you? Donnatella--”

“Donna,” I correct. Hearing Mike call her Donnatella just feels wrong. He doesn’t have that right.

He gives me a strange look but continues. “You and I met Donna and Melanie last night—well, you met Donna earlier in the day but essentially we all got together last night and well, then the rest happened.”

“Melanie is…?”

“Donna’s best friend.”

“Ok.”

I pace back and forth for a moment and then start to head back to the elevators.

“Where are you going?”

“To her suite.”

“Josh, she’s not there.”

“Yeah, but she has to come back sometime.”

“True, but don’t you have a meeting in, what, seven minutes?”

Shit.

“Ok, listen, she has to come back to her room sometime so you wait for her outside and don’t let her go when she comes back. I’ll finish this meeting quickly and meet up with you. Ok?”

“Ok-ay. What are you gonna say when you see her?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

*

“Congressman Rippon, congratulations on your win,” I greet. He’s tall, in his mid thirties and has that quality that women swoon over. At least, the women in this place seem to be swooning.

“Josh, it’s James. And do me a favour would you? Toby seems to be a little hard to find right now so pass on my thanks to him.” At my questioning glance, he adds, “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have ran.”

“Sure. So, what are you doing back in Nevada so soon?”

“Officially, I’m back for some speeches thanking my constituents for voting me in.”

“And unofficially?”

“I figured I’d surprise my fiancé. We’ve both been exceptionally busy for the past few weeks. She should be joining us soon.”

“Congratulations. How long have you been engaged?”

“Six months,” he smiles. “Josh, I actually asked for this meeting because I wanted to talk to you about Yucca Mountain.”

“James, that’s a conversation that I want to have but just don’t have enough time for right now. I have to get a flight back to DC in less than an hour and I still have some other loose ends to tie up.”

“I realise that, but you should know I’m not going to back down from this.”

“And we don’t want you to; we’re just asking that you work with us on this.”

He takes a moment to measure my sincerity and then nods. His smile reappears and he excuses himself from the table. I follow his gaze but can’t see anything beyond the two hundred pound man fighting with a waiter over… caviar?

“Hey, Josh!” Mike’s comes dashing towards me, his breathing laboured as if he’s just ran a marathon.

“What the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you standing guard outside her suite?”

“You might wanna lower your voice there buddy.” He struggles to regain his breath.

“Mike,” I growl.

“I found out something else about her that you’re not gonna like.”

“Such as?”

“Oh shit, too late,” he mutters as he looks with a frown past the caviar eating, sumo wrestler.

“Mike, what the hell is up with you?”

“Turn around.”

Oh. My. God.

“If I were you, I’d run the hell out of here and give CJ another call right now.”

“This can’t be happening.”

“I hate to break this to you, Josh, but I think it is. And you said things couldn’t get any worse.”

I must have been a Republican in my past life because I seem to be paying penance for some sort of vile mistake. James is walking back towards the table with a woman who I assume is his fiancé by his side…

“Josh, and er… sorry, I don’t know your name?”

“Mike Casper,” he introduces himself and shakes James hand while I stare, dumbfounded, at the woman standing besides James.

“Josh, Mike, I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Donna Moss.”

I repeat: I hate my life.