his own way, her father was as stubborn as she was. He didn’t believe in giving an inch. “I’m just saying it because it’s true—and because I want you to go out and have a good time.”
He was up to something and she knew it. “Then let’s go to the movies,” she suggested. “The three of us. My treat,” she added to sweeten the pot.
“Number one—” he ticked off on his fingers “—the movies aren’t going anywhere—they’ll always be there. Number two, even if I said yes to going, I don’t need you paying for my ticket. I’m the dad. I get to take the two of you out.”
Brianna seized the moment. “Great—let’s go.”
His eyes told her he wasn’t about to budge from his position. “But not tonight,” he continued, remaining firm. “Go, catch up with your friends,” he coaxed, then predicted, “It’ll be fun.”
Brianna sighed and shook her head, her light auburn hair swirling about her face like a pale red cloud. “Spoken like a man who has never had to attend any of his high school reunions.”
Carrie puckered her small face, a sure sign that she was trying to absorb the conversation around her. Given a choice, the little girl always preferred the company of adults to that of children her own age. She knew that adults occasionally even forgot that she was there, but she didn’t mind. She was content just to sit there, listening to them talk.
She was truly a sponge. Soaking up everything, her curiosity constantly being aroused.
“What’s a higher reunion?” she asked, looking from her grandfather to the woman she thought of as her mother.
“High school reunion,” Brianna corrected. “That’s when a bunch of people who used to go to the same classes together hold a party every few years so that they can pretend to be successful, making people jealous of them while they’re checking who got fat and who lost their hair.”
Carrie was quiet for a moment, then observed, “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
Her point eloquently stated, Brianna looked at her father as she gestured toward Carrie. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
Carrie’s lower lip stuck out just a shade as she protested, “I’m not a baby.”
“Maybe not,” Brianna allowed, giving the girl a quick hug, “but you’re my baby.”
“And you’re mine,” Jim informed her firmly, but with the same underlying note of love. “Now, shake a leg and get to this thing before it’s over.”
Brianna grinned, pretending to weigh the thought. “Now, there’s an idea. If I take my time getting ready and move really slowly, this lame reunion will be over by the time I get there.”
“I hereby declare you ready,” Jim announced, taking her by the hand and drawing her to the stairs. Carrie was quick to grab her other hand and follow suit, her blue eyes dancing. “I’m all set to babysit and you look fantastic. You have no excuse,” Jim concluded, his words firmly declaring that the discussion—or argument—was officially over.
Giving in, Brianna allowed herself to be led down the stairs. Once on the ground floor, she raised her hands in semisurrender. She gave her father her compromise.
“I’ll go—but I’ll be home early,” she told him.
He wasn’t through bargaining. “You’ll be home late and like it,” he countered. Putting his wide, hamlike hands to her back, he aimed her at the front door and gave her a little push. “Now go.”
This time, it was an order.
With a sigh, Brianna gave in. In the long run, it was easier that way. Kissing Carrie and then her father goodbye, she left.
Her CR-V, the car that J.T. had left to her upon his incredibly untimely death, was parked in the driveway and she crossed to it.
According to the very short will, J.T. had stated that the vehicle was an inadequate thank-you present. Though it wasn’t spelled out, Brianna knew he was thanking her for saying that she would be Carrie’s guardian in the event that something happened to him.
And then “something” had.
A week before their quickly planned wedding, J.T. had died in what amounted to a freak boating accident.
All throughout the funeral, she couldn’t help thinking of the old adage J.T. had always been fond of quoting: If you wanted to make God laugh, tell Him you’ve started making plans.
She certainly hadn’t planned for it to be this way. She had a daughter—and a CR-V—and no husband, no shot at attaining “happily ever after.”
It was the second time that had happened to her.
Was that it? she wondered suddenly. Was that why she kept attending these damn reunions?
Was that why she’d let her father talk her into attending this one?
Because deep down inside, was she hoping that the first man who had made her yearn for a “happily ever after” before it had all turned to dust might attend this reunion?
As she drove down the brightly lit streets, she reminded herself that Sebastian Hunter hadn’t attended the last reunion. Why in heaven’s name did she think he was going to attend this one?
And even if he did, a little voice in her head mocked her, are you going to rush up to him, throw your arms around him and say, “Let’s pick up where we left off”?
“No, of course not,” Brianna said tersely, defensively, giving voice to her thoughts out loud.
Brianna took in a deep breath and unconsciously squared her shoulders as she came to a stop at a red light. Annoyed at the path her thoughts were taking, she reminded herself that she was made of sterner stuff than that. She hadn’t cracked up when her father had almost died in that car accident—she’d stuck by him and done what had to be done.
And she hadn’t cracked up when the guy she loved more than anything on earth had left her behind to go to college, emotionally stranding her and growing progressively more and more distant until he’d finally just completely disappeared from her life.
She hadn’t even given up and booked a ride on the SS Catatonic when J.T. was killed.
Instead, she’d faced each and every one of her challenges, emerging whole on the other side. Moreover, she knew she would continue to face her challenges, determined to come out the victor no matter what dragon she was forced to battle.
Raising her head up a little higher, Brianna drove on.
Sebastian frowned behind his near-empty wineglass. He still couldn’t believe that he had actually wound up here, despite his determination not to set foot into this sad little affair.
He was here because his mother had begged him to attend. Face-to-face with those incredibly sad eyes of hers, he found that the word no just refused to emerge.
Sebastian was far from happy about this unexpected turn of events.
But it was all his own fault. He couldn’t blame anyone else for his being here right now. The blame rested squarely on his own shoulders. He’d been so desperate to do anything to please his infirm mother, he’d made the mistake of saying as much—and this, this, was the only thing she asked of him. To attend his high school reunion—and then come home and tell her all about it in the morning.
Except that there wasn’t all that much to tell, he thought, slowly looking around and taking in the various little cliques gathered together throughout the large room.
Apparently the “mean kids” were now “mean adults,” and the “nice kids” were still their targets, even though they were now, for the most part, “nice adults.”
And, he noted, the ones who went on to make something of themselves and become