"Oh, shit." Doug jumps up, pulls Brynn out of the chair, and performs the Heimlich maneuver on her. Ingo doesn't move, picks up his whisky, and takes a few sips. Doug is still performing it, and the Brussels sprout flies out of her mouth and across the table to the floor.
Brynn is staring at Ingo while trying to catch her breath, and her hand is on her chest. Married?’ she mumbles.
“Yes, I’m married. Aren't you going to congratulate me?” He raises his glass at her.
Brynn threw her napkin on the table, stood, and looked at him one more time before storming out.
“She didn’t take that well. I guess you were on her list of men to conquer. I’m glad you escaped her claws,” Doug said, picking up his wine. “Congratulations.”
Ingo raised his glass. "Thank you."
"Who is the lucky bride?" Doug
