Page 3 of The Reunion

The shower shuts off in the next room. He comes back, dropping a kiss onto my cheek before getting ready, the jeans and shirt laid out next to my dress waiting for him.

‘You look gorgeous.’

‘It’s not too much?’

‘Never.’ That grin and those dimples make me swoon every dang time. Except, right now, it feels like an uneasy swoop of my stomach, tying it into knots.

Instead of trying to smile back, I double-check my bag, making sure to pop my lipstick and old lipliner in there, and a tissue to blot, and then slip into my dress and shoes.

He’s ready to leave by the time I ask, ‘Zip me up?’ – because of course he is. He knows me so well. Beat for beat. A synchronisation that’s existed since the very first time we said ‘hello’ in the hallway.

The fingers tracing up the bare skin of my back are sure and gentle. The hands that settle on my waist so he can hold me there for a moment while he brushes a kiss on the back of my neck are familiar and natural. The scent of his cologne teases my nostrils, and it smells like home.

I think about the photograph of me and Shaun in my handbag, and the fact that tonight I’ll be seeing him in person for the first time since the break-up, then turn to Curtis to slip my hand in his, hoping he doesn’t feel it shake. The cold metal of my engagement ring presses into my finger.

‘Come on. Time to go.’

Chapter Three

Shaun

‘Most Likely to End Up Together’

‘Darling, I’m really not sure about this … Don’t you think I’ll just be a bit superfluous the entire night?’

I laugh, not because Aisha uses words like ‘superfluous’, but because she thinks even for a second that I might feel like she’s getting in the way tonight. As if I wouldn’t enjoy a night out with my gorgeous, brilliant fiancée. I step aside from the steady stream of people making their way from the car park up the slope to the main building. My arms slip around her waist and I drop a kiss on the tip of her nose, so I don’t mess up the pretty pink lipstick she’s applied.

‘Not in the least,’ I tell her. She bites her lip, which makes me want to laugh again, because now she’ll be the one ruining her lipstick. ‘Lots of people are bringing their partners and spouses tonight. And Bryony was very clear on the invitation – the more the merrier.’

‘I know, but I just think …’

‘And you know some of the guys already. I’ve introduced you.’

‘I know, Shaun, but …’

Uncertainty flickers in her brown eyes and I feel a pang of sympathy for her. It’s not that Aisha hates parties or is uncomfortable meeting new people, but – I get it. This isn’t a few old mates from my schooldays. This is everyone. Around eighty or ninety people, plus whatever significant others show up. Admittedly, I haven’t seen the vast majority of them for ten years so they’ll be as good as strangers to me, too, but we’ll still have shared experiences and fond memories to reminisce over. I’ll still know who they are.

If I had to show up with about a hundred and fifty people that Aisha had some connection to while I knew nobody, I’d probably feel a bit of a third (or, hundred and fifty-first) wheel, too.

Then she checks the time on her phone and says, ‘I suppose even if I did get a train now, I’d be too late to catch the others anyway,’ and I remember I convinced her to sack off plans with some of her work friends to come here with me tonight. She’s not anxious – she just thinks she had a better offer for Friday-night plans.

Which I also get, in fairness. If I had the choice of a night at the pub with the guys or mingling with Aisha’s old schoolmates, I know what I’d prefer.

I give her a smile and tell her, ‘Come on, it’s going to be great. I promise. And besides, I can’t wait to show you off to everybody.’

That puts a gleam back in her eyes. Aisha sways slightly, her body brushing against mine, and then her shoulders give that little wriggle before she straightens up to her full height (which is not inconsiderable in those heels – she might even put some of the rugby lads to shame) and says, ‘Okay.’

I squeeze her waist once more before we join the current of people moving towards the school.

‘Huh,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing. Just – that little building there, with the blue guttering around the roof? That used to be these rickety old demountables. The languages department was out here.’

Aisha laughs, her arm looping through mine as she relaxes a bit more. ‘The kind with asbestos, that they probably should’ve torn down even before you were in school, you mean?’

‘That’s exactly the kind.’

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