The Wedding Crasher by Mia Sosa

Michael’s crass prediction flashes in my brain. On the eve of associate
evaluations, what could be better than having my bosses so far up my ass that
I’d need an enema to flush them out? Metaphorically speaking, of course. I’m
already on shaky ground with the firm, which means I need this assignment.
Without it, I’m unlikely to turn things around to make partner by thirty, and if
I don’t, what the hell was the point of never deviating from my plan for
success all this time?
A woman with curly hair and chocolate-brown eyes immediately comes to
mind, and my solution tumbles out effortlessly, pure adrenaline fueling my
pitch-perfect delivery. “Sir, I didn’t bring this up earlier because it didn’t
seem relevant, but since you mentioned wanting these outings to be with our
significant others, now’s an appropriate time to tell you that I’m in a serious
relationship with someone, and I think she’d be a real asset to our effort to
recruit Kimberly Bailey.”
“Bullshit,” Peter coughs into his hand.
Henderson cocks his head. “You’re in a serious relationship? Less than
two weeks after you canceled your wedding?”
I chuckle and massage the back of my head. Shit, my ears are burning.
Don’t pass out, Dean. Don’t you fucking dare pass out. “It’s definitely an
unconventional turn of events, I get it, but the short story is that the woman
who stopped my wedding is a longtime friend. And, well, I’ll just say that
once the dust settled after the ceremony, we realized we’d been suppressing
some pretty big feelings. She’s known me longer than I’ve worked here, and
we’ve shared a condo for years, so she really is qualified to speak to what
she’s observed about my lifestyle as an associate firsthand, and what’s even
better is that she knows DC inside out. Anyway, I think she’d be more than
happy to join us.”
“What’s her name?” Peter asks.
He’s trying to box me into a corner. Well played, Peter.
“Her name’s Solange Pereira.”
Peter narrows his gaze on me but says nothing.
Henderson knows I’m more charming than the sack of potatoes to my
right. I mean, Peter unironically brags that he “bagged” his wife as soon as he
told her he’d graduated from Harvard—a moment he describes as the dating
equivalent of a mic drop. Skin-crawling stuff, really. Once Henderson
considers Peter’s insufferably douchey upturned collar, his choice will be
clear.