“It sounds very civilized,” she said about his relationship with his ex-wife and her husband, as they danced a slow waltz around the dance floor. “I don't think I'd be capable of it,” she said honestly. She and Rachel hadn't spoken at the wedding. They had only exchanged a look and a nod in church, acknowledging each other, but neither of them wanted more than that. Particularly Paris. The scar of losing Peter to her was still too raw, and perhaps always would be. Andrew Warren's relationship with his ex-wife seemed infinitely different.
“I'll admit, it's pretty rare. I don't know what the circumstances of your divorce were, but that only works if it was a fairly amicable mutual decision. We were both ready to let go, by the time we divorced. It was a mercy for both of us, and it turned out to be a real blessing for her. I think she's a lot happier with him than she was with me, or was for the latter half of our marriage. We were one of those couples who never should have gotten married, but did anyway, and tried like hell to make it work. It was a long shot at best. She's highly political, I wasn't. She's very social, I hated it. She was a debutante, my father owned a grocery store, and then turned it into a chain, and sold it very nicely, but I didn't grow up with the advantages she did,” although Paris knew from Meg he had made up for it since, and like Richard, he was a very wealthy, highly successful man. “She loved horses, I was terrified of them. I wanted lots of kids, she didn't. There was a lot of all that. To tell you the truth, I think I bored her to death.” He laughed, it didn't seem to bother him. He seemed very easygoing, so much so that Paris hardly paid attention to him. She was just doing her social duty as they chatted. “At least now we can be friends.”
She couldn't imagine being friends with Peter. All they were were strangers with common memories now, and many of them painful. The best she could offer him was peace and distance, and it was all he wanted from her. What Andrew and his ex-wife shared was something very different. And his ex-wife's husband was the leading hopeful for the next presidential election, so it was an interesting connection.
“And you've never wanted to remarry?” Paris pursued the conversation politely when they sat down again. He was an intriguing man, and she was waiting for the line about not meeting the right woman in ten years of looking, but he surprised her again.
“I have, but I don't need to. I've met a lot of wonderful women, most of whom would have made great wives. I'm not so sure about myself. I'm a pretty quiet guy. All I do is sit around reading manuscripts. I don't want to bore someone to death again. According to Elizabeth, my ex-wife, being married to me was about as exciting as watching paint dry. I figured I should spare someone that.” What he was saying really was that he didn't want to make another mistake, which was what most divorced people felt. He made a lot of sense and she liked him, not in a romantic sense. But he had the same kind of solid substance her new son-in-law did. She didn't view Andrew as a potential date, but thought he might make a nice friend, and given his close relationship with Richard, she was sure their paths would cross again.
“At my age, I don't need to get married.” He continued chatting with her. “I think it's wonderful for Meg and Richard. But I'm fifty-eight years old, I don't have the energy for a young girl, and I'd feel foolish with one. Richard is ten years younger than I am, that makes a difference. He wants kids with her, and to start all over again. I'm enjoying coasting, seeing my kids, being with my friends when I'm in the mood for it. I don't need to start all over again. I like my life fine the way it is.” He seemed completely comfortable with himself, and had no interest in impressing anyone, least of all Paris. He asked her about her job then, and she told him about it, and Bix entered the conversation and peppered her accounts with a lot of funny stories about her and their clients. Andrew said he thought it sounded terrific. “You two must have a lot of fun working together,” he said pleasantly, and Andrew went on talking to Bix when Paris's son-in-law came and asked her to dance.
“That's my best friend you're talking to,” Richard said to her easily, after he thanked her again for the wedding. “He's a great guy. I've told Meg a hundred times I wanted to introduce you two. She didn't think you'd like him, he's usually pretty quiet. But there isn't a better friend on the planet. I think his ex-wife will probably end up being First Lady.”
“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.