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familiar ache in Evie’s chest to flare. Her own father would never see her married. He wouldn’t be there to halfheartedly complain about the expensive orchids Evie chose for the centerpieces or do the traditional father-daughter dance. Instead, her wedding photos would be shots of her and her mother, surrounded by Winston and the TWASPs, the pseudofamily that she could never quite grasp was her current reality. She’d already decided she would ask Grandma Bette to walk her down the aisle should the need arise. Bette would be so anxious for Evie to seal the deal it would probably be more of a sprint.
    Tracy slowly ambled over to Evie with Jake by her side. “I think we’re going to head home. I’m exhausted.”
    “Okay. I’m going to hang. Luke and I are still talking,” Evie said, pecking her pregnant friend on the cheek. “I’ll keep you posted.”
    “You better.”
    Luke reappeared shortly after Tracy and Jake retreated.
    “Sorry about that. I didn’t know my relatives were so talkative,” he said. “Can I get you another drink?”
    “Absolutely,” she said.
    She lost track of how many cocktails they downed, but it was safe to say enough for it to seem like a great idea for them to grab the mike from the DJ and serenade the crowd with Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack.”
    “You’re really fun, Evie,” Luke said when the two of them found themselves in the empty coat check. He was running his hands up and down her bare arms.
    Then his lips were on hers, their tongues at battle. It felt amazing. The mixed-up sweat, the feel of his stubble, the panting.Oh, how she’d missed this. She pulled away from him for a moment to admire his face and smiled. It seemed there was life beyond Jack after all.
    Their makeout lasted until a tuxedoed wedding attendant ahem-ed them.
    “Night’s over, kids,” he said.
    “Let me put you in a cab,” Luke said. “Evie Rosen at Baker Smith. I’m going to look you up first thing tomorrow. Let’s get together for a drink.”
    “I would love that,” she said, taking the hand he offered her.
    He flagged down a taxi and helped her inside. Through the open window he said, “Get home safe. Oh, and Evie, hang on to your phone a little better next time.” He winked one brown eye at her and sent her off.
    Seat belted into the backseat, she looked out at the city, all sparkly from the glow of the headlights and traffic lights. The rows of flowers in planters, illuminated from tiny spots, formed pink pillows in her mind. It had been a great night.
    # # #
    Back home, Evie quickly swapped her dress for cozy pajamas and flung her dizzy self into bed. Now she remembered why she never drank Scotch. Eyeing the blur that was her laptop on the night table, she almost sent Luke a Facebook message—just a quick “what a fun night” opener to get a dialogue going, but she resisted on account of inebriation.
    She did not want to end up like Jeffrey Belzer.
    Jeffrey was a summer associate with Evie. After returning from a three-bottles-of-wine lunch at the Harvard Club (normal in the course of the seduction of the Big Law summer programs), he dashed off a quick e-mail to his fellow associate Allen Jacobs.

    Why, oh why, did Allen’s parents have to spell his name with two l ’s? Jeffrey Belzer must still be pondering that very question. When he selected the recipient of this soon-to-be-legendary e-mail, he didn’t click on Allen Jacobs, but rather All Firm. The stream of the Sancerre at lunch couldn’t have helped. It was done. There was no taking it back. Well, yes, an attempt was made to take it back. Not sixty seconds after sending the e-mail, someone must have alerted Jeffrey, because what followed in everyone’s inbox was the following message: “Jeffrey Belzer would like to recall the message that was just sent.” Now everyone who had ignored the message (it had had the bland subject line “yo”) decided it had to be juicy. Within an hour, it had gone viral. The infamous