The Wedding Crasher by Mia Sosa

“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” he says as he settles in his seat.
“It’s the least I could do . . . considering.”
He pulls out a packet of travel-size disinfectant wipes and cleans the table.
“Bear with me. I worked on a case about sanitizers last year, and I’ll never be
able to see a non-porous surface in the same way again.”
“Okay, Dexter.”
He stops wiping and gives me a blank look. “I’m not a serial killer.”
“That remains to be seen. Now I’m extra glad we met in a public place.”
“You’re a trip,” he says, his lips twisted in a half smirk.
A barista swoops in and places a mug on the table; she winks at Dean
before she walks away.
“You’re a regular?” I ask.
“I am.”
“How very hip of you.”
He grins. “I called ahead and placed my order when I realized I’d be
running a little late. Made sure to ask if you had a cup.”
“Oh, well in that case, how very ordinary and considerate of you.” I point
at his mug. “What the hell is that anyway?”
“A nonfat soy latte with an extra shot, one pump of honey blend, and
caramel drizzle.”
“I think I hate you right now.”
This time he smiles widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Do you need
anything else? Want to order food? They make great pancakes.”
“No need,” I say, lifting my mug. “This regular-ass coffee is enough.”
I want to focus on whatever has brought us together, but I’m distracted by
the man’s buttoned-up appearance. I bet he’d never survive even a few hours
on a BFI construction site; dirt under his fingernails is probably listed as an
allergen in his medical records. “Does your firm frown upon business
casual?”
Furrowing his brow, he peers down at his clothes. “It’s permitted, but this
is my style.”
“Ah.”
Admittedly, it’s a dapper vibe. His tie is knotted expertly, and the way his
collar falls, I imagine he uses brass stays to achieve a perfect neckline. I
glance at his wrists, unsurprised to see that a half inch of his shirt cuffs is
visible beyond the sleeve of his blazer. Freshly shaved, and without a hair out
of place, Dean very well could be your average uptight asshole. Nothing I’ve