Page 175 of The Single Dad

“Our best friends are getting married,” Reed continues with a sigh. “True love, right?” There’s a note of irony in his voice that makes me want to fling one of my rings at him instead of the bottles.

“Yeah,” I say, “true love. For real.” I shoot him a glare out of the corner of my eye. “Personally, I’m happy for Riley. This is perfect for her.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Reed says quickly, noticing the edge to my voice. “I’m happy for Cole, too. Seriously. I never thought I’d see him smile like that.”

I throw my first ring, and it whizzes straight over all of the bottles, hitting the back of the tent with a dull thud. The carny, scrolling on his phone in the corner of the booth, snorts a laugh. I scowl at him.

I can feel Reed’s amusement, too, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a sour look. He takes his first throw, and the ring clinks off of a bottle—a near miss.

“I just don’t believe in that ‘happily ever after,’ forever kind of love, you know?” Reed continues, apparently oblivious to the fact that I want him to get lost. “Like, sure, maybe in movies—”

“I do,” I interrupt. I throw the second ring at one of the corner bottles, a new strategy I’ve just cooked up. No dice. Reed throws right after me, and his ring lodges onto the bottle I was aiming for.

“Oh, right,” he comments with a chuckle. “You used to love those romcoms. You were constantly watching them.”

I’m so startled by this that I’m almost lightheaded for a moment. “Wait—what?”

He does remember me. He basically just confirmed it.

He cocks his head to one side, looking at me. “You don’t remember the romcoms? You’re kidding me. You used to have them on all the time. You went through at least a few every week.” Reed takes his last throw, and misses. He brushes his hands together and clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Unlucky.”

My mouth is open slightly in disbelief. I snap it shut, and say, “You remember me?”

He grins slyly. “Well, how could I forget?”

That takes me aback, not least because it doesn’t fit with the Reed I’ve built up in my head, the super-rich, silver-spoon Eastwood kid who didn’t even notice the help. It’s been years, and he still remembers me?

I hate to admit it, but I’m also flustered, and hoping desperately that he can’t see the flush in my cheeks.

I thought I was a complete stranger to him—at least, as far as he knew.

“Why didn’t you say anything before, when we saw each other at that art gala?” I demand.

“To be honest, it’s because you looked like you were about to bolt,” he says, a teasing note in his voice, “and I didn’t want to scare you away.”

Annoyed, I turn back to the ring toss game, rolling my eyes. I have one last ring in my hand, and I’m determined to get at least one.

I steady myself for the throw, then let my third ring fly. It bounces off the center bottle and clatters onto the floor.

“Shit!” I let out a sharp breath, folding my arms in annoyance. “They rig these things, I’m telling you. It’s literally impossible to win.”

“Is that so?”

I close my eyes. I don’t need to look at Reed to imagine his insufferable smirk. “Yes.”

“Then how did I get one?”

Over in the corner of the booth, I hear the carny snort a laugh. I glare at him.

“Who asked you?” I turn back to Reed. “You got one out of sheer luck, and nothing more. Don’t forget it.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Reed says casually, “let’s play again. For glory, this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s make it a contest.”

I size him up, raising an eyebrow. “Well... what do I get if I win?”

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