The Fortunes of the Evening

Lupe glared across the ballroom, clutching her flute of champagne, while Aviv tugged at her elbow. Another wedding. Another damned wedding and Lupe was still single. Forty and single, no less.

Her relatives wanted to set her up? Fine. Great. Bring it on. The police probably already were on alert. They'd get once dance, one conversation, and that's it. Win her heart or go drink themselves into a stupor at the bar. Winner take all.

Or Lupe take all because one way or the other, she'd be the winner in this one. Speed dating at her niece's wedding might get her the romance of her dreams. Or not. Either way, Lupe was giving it her all for one night only.