I sweep the lipstick across my mouth and rub my lips together while handing the tube back to Monica. My lips feel creamy and smooth, although I wonder how much of the red stuff is stuck to my teeth.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it looks like Danny needs me for a toast.”

Monica tucks the lipstick back where it came from and scurries away amid the whir of clinking champagne glasses. The crowd is demanding that the newlyweds kiss, and I pick up my knife and flute to join the movement.

Monica’s beaming. Well, she’s always beaming. But today’s glow is different. I remember what it felt like to get married. The wedding was the best day ever. Regardless of how things ended up for me, I’m thrilled for her and wish them the best.

“Sorry about that. My partner is trying to get some residual business from Gavin and Gwen,” Chad says, rejoining me at the table.

“Rossdale and Stefani?”

He makes the click sound with his tongue again and points at me. I guessed right, I suppose.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” says Chad. “How does a guy who makes a living divorcing people think he can be in a genuine relationship?”

“Actually, I was thinking about how good those cheesy potatoes are going to be.”

“The truth is,” he blazes on, “I see so much separation, I know exactly what it takes to have a serious relationship with someone.”

“That’s interesting,” I say. “Kind of like that whole you have to know dark to know light concept.”

“Exactly!”

My curiosity is piqued for the first time since spotting a giant gourmet cupcake tower near the dance floor.

“So then, tell me, what are the secrets to lasting relationship happiness?” I begin to pry.

He takes a sip of his whiskey before divulging. “First of all, prenups. Those are an absolute must. They just make people feel more secure in the marriage, knowing that if it all ends, they won’t rob each other to death.”

Fair enough. Although I did not have a prenup with my first husband and things still managed to work out pretty fairly in the end as far as assets went.

“Continue,” I say.

“Then, a sex contract.”

I nearly choke on the last few drops of my gin and tonic.

“A sex contract? What...what the hell even is that?”

“Relax. It’s not that big of a deal. Just something that binds a couple to engage in regular intimacy. So many couples stop having sex after marriage, or it becomes like a chore that happens about as infrequently as a SoCal thunderstorm. For me, I need sex four times a week at minimum and I don’t want that to stop just because I put a ring on it.”

“What if your wife—”

“Isn’t in the mood? I mean, of course we could work something into the contract that would excuse you for a few days if you’re on your period or if someone close to you dies. Stuff like that.”