Javier, Stephan’s husband, rolled his eyes.  “Pu-lease.  We all know he will track you down in under five minutes.”

She couldn’t exactly argue with that.  We all knew it was the truth.

Tristan and Danika’s story was an epic one.  Tragic in its way, but somehow all the more beautiful for it.

I’d joined the girls’ night just after they’d gotten married, and Danika had shared a bit with the group about their past and how it affected the present, how every time she woke and he was there beside her, it still hit her like a punch to the gut, because the two had been to hell and back together.

I was a hopeless romantic and so I’d gobbled their story up.  After all they’d gone through, that they’d somehow ended up back together after years estranged.  It was amazing how they’d been able to put the painful past behind them and remarry.  It pulled on my heartstrings in the best possible way.

Sure enough, not thirty minutes later, I heard a muttered, “Here comes Trouble,” come out of Danika, her eyes across the large bar aimed at the entrance.

She was smiling with what could only be called a besotted look on her face, but it turned mischievous as her eyes swung back to Bianca and I.

“Watch this,” she told us.  “It’s the funniest thing.  I can get him to go full caveman in under thirty seconds, I shit you not.”

Danika made her way to the bar, taking an empty stool between two men.  One of them turned immediately and said something to her, leaning forward as he did so.

She said something back, smiling blandly at the man.

Going by her expression, and his, they weren’t talking about anything particularly racy, but it was clear pretty quickly that it didn’t matter.

Tristan had arrived.  He was a great, massive hunk of a man, several inches over six feet, and built broad and muscular, his fitted shirt hugging every inch of his rock hard frame.  It was a white shirt, and you could see under the white that his chest was as covered in ink as his arms.

Tristan spotted and converged on them like a force of nature.  He was across the bar, wedging his huge self in the narrow space between the two stools before you could say caveman.

We could have counted it down, it was that fast and inevitable.

Five.  Four.  Three.  Two.  One.

“You know this is my wife, right?” Tristan’s voice boomed loud enough to be heard by all.

I covered my mouth, trying hard to stifle my laugh.

Bianca was doing the same a few feet to my left.

“And she calls him Trouble,” Stephan laughed.

When the smiling couple moved across the room to join us, Tristan’s arm wrapped around her small waist, anchoring her to his side.

They made a striking pair.  Both with pitch black hair and turn your head stunning looks.  They complemented each other in the best way.  She highlighted his massive size, and his virile presence emphasized her extravagant femininity.  Danika wasn’t short, but he towered over her, making her look tiny, like he could pick her up with one hand.

They were walking, but his whole self was focused on her, head bent down, body turned in.  He was whispering something into her ear that had her giggling uncontrollably.

What I’d give to have a man love me like that.

Tristan’s dimples flashed as he greeted our group.

I wondered who was bigger, Heath or Tristan.  It was hard to say.  They were of a size.  They’d have to be side by side to tell for sure.

The next big entrance was made about twenty minutes later by a fresh from the airport James.

It was apparent, as he made his way to our group, that he only had eyes for one person in the room.  And the way he looked at her, God, like he wanted to swallow her whole.

By the way Bianca’s gaze stayed glued to him, it was apparent that the feeling was very much mutual.

He went straight to her side.  She rose to greet him, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead, then waved her to sit back down, taking the space that had opened up next to her.

His eyes left her only to alight on what she’d been drinking.  He touched her wine glass pointedly, licking his lips.  “How many have you had, love?”

“This is my second,” Bianca answered, looking a bit exasperated with him, “but the first was hours ago.”

He swallowed and nodded, tearing his attention from her to greet the rest of us, politely and warmly.

I knew what that strange interaction was all about.  It had come up in our group therapy before.  James hated alcohol with a passion.  He felt it impaired a person, and for a long time Bianca hadn’t had so much as a sip in an effort to cater to his strong opinion on the matter.

But Bianca didn’t share his opinion, and though she wasn’t much of a drinker, (I’d never seen her have more than two drinks, and even that was only over a four hour or more stretch) she did enjoy a drink from time to time.

She never drank enough to impair her judgement, something she slowly, over time, had made James understand, and so the couple had eased into the understanding that, though James would never touch alcohol, and that was fine, Bianca would enjoy the occasional drink with her girlfriends, and James had learned not freak out about it.

Their love story was one that touched me, as well.  Both had suffered through dreadful childhoods.  Bianca’s father was such a monster that she still celebrated every year at the anniversary of his death.  She was not a hateful woman, so it wasn’t lost on me how awful he must have been for her to do that.