years in the past decade. Things were finally looking up, though, and so, for the first time in ten years, Leah was making plans for her future.
“No wonder they made you the head of the committee,” Michelle said as she slipped into place beside Leah. The former cheerleader still had the trim figure of her youth, even after having two kids. She’d been one of Leah’s links back to life in Boston, and it had been nice to serve on the committee together and catch up with an old friend. “You are List Queen.”
Leah laughed. “I just like to be organized. I hate to forget anything.”
Michelle peeked over Leah’s shoulder at the clipboard in her hands. “‘Lemon slices for drinks. Extra toilet paper for restrooms. One carnation per vase.’ Okay, I think you need a twelve-step program.”
“It’s called making sure all the I’s are dotted and T’s are crossed. Nothing wrong with that.” Leah breathed easier with her lists and her check boxes. They gave her a sense of comfort, let her know she was on track. She’d always been like that, even back in high school. She was the one who never missed an assignment, never forgot an appointment.
“There is something wrong with it,” Michelle said, her green eyes kind and soft, “if those I’s and T’s come at the expense of a personal life. How many hours did you spend planning this thing, anyway?”
“Enough to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.” Leah dropped her gaze to the list again. It was easier to do that than to contemplate the weekends and evenings she had spent on the reunion, shouldering most of the responsibility herself instead of letting other members of the committee do the job. She’d let those to-do lists fill the long nights between work and sleep, because it was easier than thinking about her life plan, or lack thereof. A lot easier.
“Hon, it’s okay to take the next leap, you know.”
Leah shrugged. “I know.”
The DJ cued up the first song, and pressed Play. Hits from their teen years began streaming through the sound system. Michelle gave Leah a one-armed hug. “Look at tonight as a do-over. A restart. You had to put your post–high school life on hold for ten years. Pretend tonight is graduation all over again and you’re ready to go off on your big life adventure.”
Graduation. She remembered two things about that afternoon—the phone call that had changed Leah’s life, and Alec McKenna. She’d gotten up that morning excited to start their life together in New York. Before the day was out, she’d said goodbye to Alec and hopped a plane to California. By the time things had settled with her father in California, Alec had left for college, and she’d told herself she was glad that they were over. It was better that way.
“Oh, my God. Look who just walked in.”
Leah followed Michelle’s gaze, and just like that, the bottom dropped out of her perfectly organized, checklisted world. Because Alec McKenna had stepped into the ballroom. He stood in the doorway, tall, dark and even more handsome than she remembered, with that familiar lock of dark brown hair dusting across his brow and the confident stance that said he was a man who was sure of his place in the world. He hadn’t RSVP’d—the masochist in her had checked—and she hadn’t expected that he would attend, much less be one of the first to arrive.
“Remember, do-over,” Michelle whispered. Then she gave Leah a nudge in Alec’s direction.
Leah stumbled forward, but detoured for the punch bowl before she compounded her biggest mistake with another one. Alec McKenna was part of the past, and he was going to stay there. She was finally moving forward, and falling for him again was not part of the plan.
She hadn’t changed a bit. Alec’s gaze zeroed in on Leah the second he walked into the room. He could have picked her out of a crowd of thousands, even after all these years. She still had the same long blond hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, teasing along the zipper of her red satin dress. The same green eyes, wide and luminous. The kind of eyes that stayed in a man’s mind. The same tall hourglass shape, made even taller by the strappy black heels she wore, which showed off killer legs and a bright red pedicure.
When he’d let her walk away all those years ago, he’d told himself it was the right decision. The last thing Alec had wanted as he threw off the shackles of high school was a committed relationship where he had to be dependable, grown up. He’d wanted nothing more that day than to get out of Boston, get to college and start living his life. That had been their plan—head for New York, spend their days going to classes and strolling Central Park. An easy, bohemian life with no ties to anything or anyone for at least four years.
Alec’s father had lectured him over and over again about being responsible, about settling down—then lived in complete opposition to his words. After the death of his wife, George McKenna had spent the family money on one woman after another, one vacation after another, one house after another. That life of no responsibility caught up to him with the car accident. Yet even from the hospital George had been calling his girlfriends, making plans for another trip, another major purchase.
And up until that moment, Alec had been his father’s son to a T. Spending money, dating women, doing nothing of substance with his life. Then that day, when he’d sat by his father in the hospital, Alec had looked at his father, really looked at him, and finally seen a man who filled the empty spots in his existence with more emptiness.
That had been the turning point for Alec, the moment when the nights out at bars no longer held the same appeal. Maybe it was just the early hours and the long days Alec now spent working in an office. Or maybe it was…
Him growing up. And with that came the desire to make amends to the people he’d hurt with his selfishness…people like Leah.
“Hey, Alec, how are you?”
Alec turned at the sound of Jim’s voice. His partner in crime in high school, and a good friend for years. “Good. You?”
“Same as always.” Jim grinned and gave Alec a light jab. “I’m about to head to the bar and get this party started right. You want to come?”
Alec started to say yes, the answer coming like a Pavlovian response, then changed his mind. “Nah. I’m good. I thought I’d circle the room. See who else is here.”
“Okay. You know where I’ll be.” Jim grinned, then walked over to the bar.
Alec bypassed the table of mementos, filled with old yearbooks, photos and trophies from their high-school glory days, detoured past the buffet table laid with steaming platters of appetizers, pausing only to say hello to old friends. He stopped in front of the punch bowl, telling himself it was just because he wanted a nonalcoholic drink, not because Leah was standing there, sipping from a plastic cup.
He opened his mouth to say hello. To start with the reason he was here—to offer an apology for being a jerk to her ten years ago. Instead he said, “You look beautiful.”
Surprise flushed Leah’s face. “Thank you, Alec. You look very nice, too.”
“It’s been a long time,” he said, reaching for a cup of punch he didn’t want.
“Ten years. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.”
“And sometimes it seems like a century ago.” He sipped at the punch—a tropical blend that slid smoothly down his throat. He hated the awkward bumpiness of small talk. But he couldn’t seem to find a way to bring the conversation around to the past. “Are you living in California still?”
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