She Sang at a Friend’s Wedding, Not Knowing the Best Man Was a Billionaire Captivated by Her
The Encounter at the Ballroom
The first note was always the hardest. Clare Davidson took a deep breath as she stood at the back of the ornate ballroom, clutching her microphone, willing herself not to throw up. Her best friend Eliza’s wedding was perfect.
It was the kind of elegant affair Clare had helped plan for months while secretly wondering if her own love life would ever warrant such celebration. She straightened her bridesmaid’s dress, a floor-length sage green gown that complimented her auburn hair.
She nodded to the pianist as the opening notes of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” filled the room. Clare’s rich, honeyed voice soon followed. The wedding guests turned in their seats, cocktails forgotten.
She kept her eyes fixed on Eliza and her new husband, James, during the first verse, drawing strength from their joy. It wasn’t until the second verse that Clare allowed her gaze to wander across the room.
That’s when she saw him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and an intensity in his eyes that nearly made her lose her place in the song. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, utterly still, watching her with undisguised fascination.
The best man—she remembered him from the rehearsal dinner, though they hadn’t been properly introduced. Marcus Holloway was James’s mysterious childhood friend who’d flown in from somewhere overseas just for the wedding.
Clare finished the song to enthusiastic applause, curtsied briefly, and hurried off to the side as the band took over. She needed water and a moment to collect herself.
“That was incredible.”
She turned to find the best man standing behind her, holding out a glass of water as if he’d read her mind.
“Thank you,”
Clare accepted the water, noticing the perfect tailoring of his dark suit.
“It’s a special song for them.”
“It’s more than the song; it’s your voice.”
His eyes, a striking shade of gray, held hers.
“I’m Marcus Holloway.”
“Clare Davidson. I’m the maid of honor and designated wedding singer,”
She added with a self-deprecating smile.
“You’re certainly not what I expected when James said his fiance’s best friend would be singing.”
Clare raised an eyebrow.
“What did you expect? Someone who’d make the guests politely pretend to enjoy the performance?”
His mouth curved.
“Not someone who would silence an entire room.”
Heat rose in Clare’s cheeks.
“I teach music at Westlake Elementary. Singing is just a hobby.”
“Some hobby.”
Marcus tilted his head slightly.
“Are you performing again tonight for their first dance?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, looking pleased.
“I’ll make sure not to miss it.”
Before Clare could respond, Eliza’s mother swooped in, insisting she join the family photos. She excused herself, acutely aware of Marcus’ eyes following her across the room.
For the next hour, Clare was swept up in wedding duties. She fixed Eliza’s train for photos, coordinated with the caterers about the cake cutting, and made sure the flower girl hadn’t wandered off.
She caught glimpses of Marcus throughout the reception. Unlike most best men who spent weddings getting progressively drunker, he remained composed, attentive, and engaged in conversation with various guests. Somehow, he was always aware of where she was in the room.
When it came time for the first dance, Clare took her position by the band. She sang at last, watching her best friend sway in her new husband’s arms.
As the song ended and other couples joined the dance floor, Clare was surprised to find Marcus standing beside her again.
“One song for everyone else seems unfair,”
He said.
“Would you dance with me?”
“I’m not much of a dancer,”
Clare admitted.
“Fortunately, I am,”
He extended his hand.
“Unless you’re saving your dances for someone special.”
“No.”
The word came out more emphatically than she’d intended.
“No one special.”
His hand was warm as it closed around hers, leading her onto the dance floor. Marcus moved with surprising grace for such a tall man, guiding her effortlessly among the other couples.
“So, Marcus Holloway, what do you do when you’re not being a best man?”
Clare asked, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach each time his hand shifted against her back.
“I run a shipping company,”
He said simply.
“International shipping. Is that why James said you fly all over the world?”
He nodded.
“We have operations on four continents. What about you? Has teaching always been your dream?”
“Since I was eight,”
Clare said.
“Though I originally wanted to teach high school choir. Elementary music wasn’t the plan, but now I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Student teaching. I realized younger kids still have this pure love of music before self-consciousness sets in. Watching a second grader discover they can make beautiful sounds…”
She smiled.
“It’s magic every time.”
Marcus studied her face.
“You truly love it.”
“I do. The pay is terrible and the hours are long, but yes, I love it.”
The song ended, but Marcus didn’t release her.
“Would you mind another dance?”
They danced three more songs, talking about everything from favorite travel destinations to worse childhood pets. His was coastal Japan; hers was the Italian countryside she’d only seen in movies.
His pet was a vicious parrot; hers was a goldfish that somehow lived seven years. By the fourth song, Clare was acutely aware that people were noticing them.
Eliza caught her eye and gave an exaggerated thumbs up from across the room.
“I should probably circulate,”
Clare said reluctantly.
“Maid of honor duties and all.”
“Of course,”
Marcus stepped back.
“Though I hope we can continue our conversation later.”
The rest of the evening was a blur of toasts, cake, and coordinating the bouquet toss. Clare found herself constantly searching for Marcus in the crowd.
Their eyes met across the room with increasing frequency. It was nearly midnight when she finally had a moment to herself. She slipped out onto the hotel’s terrace for fresh air, surprised to find it empty.
Except for Marcus, who was leaning against the railing and looking out at the city lights.
“Escaping the party?”
Clare asked, joining him at the railing.
“Just taking a moment. Crowds aren’t really my thing,”
He turned to face her.
“You were watching for me.”
It wasn’t a question. Clare could have denied it, but something about the quiet night and the way he looked at her made honesty feel like the only option.
“I was,”
She admitted.
“You’re not what I expected in a best man.”
“What did you expect?”
“Someone more… I don’t know, fraternity brotherish. James never mentioned you much.”
Marcus smiled slightly.
“We’ve known each other since boarding school, but we move in different circles now.”
“I’m not around much because of your shipping company?”
He nodded.
“It keeps me traveling.”
“Where’s home then?”
“I have a place here in the city, but I’m rarely there. A penthouse that’s more like an expensive storage unit at this point.”
He glanced at her.
“What about you? Are you local?”
“An apartment on the east side. Nothing fancy, but it’s mine.”
They talked for nearly an hour on that terrace, the sounds of the reception growing fainter as guests gradually departed. Clare learned that Marcus was 34 to her 29.
She learned that he had a younger sister studying in Europe. Despite traveling constantly, he was painfully addicted to a terrible science fiction show he never missed.
