Page 41 of The Thought of You

“Happy? Does Austin know the meaning of the word?” she teases.

“He’s definitely not happy in his suit. He’s been fidgeting with his tie like the dance toddlers in their tights.” I snort into my flute.

Caroline’s hum drifts over us. “But damn, does he look good enough to eat.” A dazed shadow clouds her light eyes, but it disappears as she turns back to us. “Much better than this shrimp Maren’s stress eating.”

“What is going on with you?” I ask.

Around a mouthful, Maren sputters, “What? I like shrimp.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and wince. “I think you just blew shrimp in my face.”

“Oops. Sorry,” she mumbles as she devours another shrimp whole.

I don’t think she even chews it.

I swipe at my cheek. “If I didn’t love you to the ends of the earth and back, I’d be more pissed.”

Maren slides her empty flute onto the table next to us, and her shoulders sag. When I follow the direction of her gaze, I find Nathan McAllister at the end of it.

Her high school boyfriend and the love of her life, not that she’ll admit the latter out loud.

It’s been ten years since he left this town—and her—behind. Soon afterward, we heard he got married and had a baby.

And my reserved but sweet friend Maren still watches him like she’s wishing on a shooting star, even though all he’s done to her is leave a giant crater in her life.

Scoffing, Maren glances back at us. “Nate looks better than ever, and I fucking hate him for it.”

“I hate his stupid chest tattoo,” I chime in for solidarity. The truth is, the guy’s pretty cool, but I’ll never forgive him for breaking my best friend’s heart. “Like, he should button his shirt all the way to the top and cover that shit up, am I right?”

“Totally.” Caroline widens her eyes in exaggeration, clearly playing along for Maren’s sake.

“The ass,” Maren grumbles and swipes another flute of champagne from a server passing us with a tray.

As if her simple curse conjured him, my eyes find Owen’s in the crowd of familiar faces. There are only a few people I don’t recognize, presumably because they’re spouses and significant others who didn’t graduate with us.

But the rest are people I’ll never forget, especially since most of them stuck around Sapphire Creek and nearby Savannah. Others moved away for a grand life outside the scope of our small, humble town. Caroline was one of them, as she moved to New York City right after graduation, and she has a life up there to return to.

But that’s the thing about reunions, isn’t it? We come together for a night to reminisce on old times and catch up on new ones. We relive the highlights of the past and then return to the realities of our present, wherever and whatever that may be.

“Can I steal you away for a second?”

This question doesn’t come from the girls. Instead, I’m surprised to find Nate suddenly in the middle of our group.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he tells Maren, and she zeroes in on that tattoo peeking out from the open V of his button up.

“Sure,” she draws out, then holds her glass up. “Just need one more sip.”

Nate backs away, and when he’s out of earshot, I whisper, “Wonder what that’s about.”

“Go, go.” Caroline nudges her toward him, and Maren almost spills her champagne.

I stifle my giggle behind my palm, but it’s no use. Maren catches me and hisses, “Don’t you have a fight with Owen to tend to?”

This time, it’s Caroline who covers her mouth with her hand, and the crinkles around her eyes give her away—she’s laughing at my expense.

“You two are on thin ice,” I warn.

Maren clears her throat and steps between us to meet Nate on the dance floor, where he holds his hand out, and she accepts.

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