Page 4 of Accidental Fiancé

“Hi, Pop.”

My daughter had been dealing with night terrors lately, and the doctor’s theory was that her circadian rhythm was off. Shesuggested I allow her to set her own bedtimes at her own pace instead of me setting them for her. Which meant her babysitter had to cooperate with Pip’s timetable as well.

Rena was a good babysitter—one of the best we’d had, actually—but she was still a teenager, and she let slip that she was going to study for a test after Piper went to bed. I was calling to check on her as much as Piper. “Rena getting you ready for bed?”

“I’m in bed now.”

It was only just after nine. “Did you want to go to bed now?”

“I’m tired.”

“Did Rena tell you that you should go to bed?”

She giggled. “I really am tired, Pop.”

“Okay, then. I want you to sleep well, have sweet dreams, and remember I love you very much.”

She said it back and added, “Dream about cake.”

“Why cake?”

“So that you have sweet dreams.” She giggled after she said it.

I couldn’t help but smile. Piper was only four, but she was smart and witty. “Alright, Pip. Cake dreams for you too then.”

The line went dead, and a wave of sadness hit me. It was always that way whenever I hung up with her. But as I heard the beats of old hits from high school pulsing through the wall, I allowed myself to get distracted and threw open the doors to the ballroom.

School colors haunted the massive space, rose and gray dripping from the ceiling, the chairs, the tables and the bar. Confetti stuck to the chilled flutes of cheap champagne and littered the floor. I’d always hated our school colors, but they went with the school’s theme since it was Rosewood High School.

Named for the woody stems of the rose farms that were our suburb’s lifeblood, RHS was nothing if not a living, breathingtheme. Our school mascot was a rose, perhaps the dullest of all school mascots throughout the history of man. The main rivals of our school had a tiger, a devil, and a lightning bolt for their mascots. I had always been embarrassed to be a rose. We were teased often and we never stood a chance.

But it wasn’t all bad. The fact we had a historically long losing streak didn’t stop us from having school spirit and good times under the Friday night lights for football games. That was the kind of people we were—no matter how many times life kicked us down, we picked ourselves up and tried again.

Tonight, however, wasn’t about all the times we fell down. A reunion was about seeing old friends and reconnecting. After the hell I’d been through over the past two years I could use that.

I signed in and took my nametag, affixing it to my suit lapel. Lindsey Panier smiled up at me. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“Why is that?”

“Don’t you usually spend your weekends yachting or something?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Not generally, no.”

“That’s what it says online.”

“Life on the internet and real life rarely intersect.”

“Well, we’re glad you could make it. Have a good time.”

“I will, thanks.” The line for the bar was mercifully short, and once I had my whiskey in hand, I scanned the crowd for Tim Drake and Victor Clyburn. We’d lost touch over the years, and the older I got, the more I learned the old adage was true—it was harder to make friends as adults.

Tim stood with a woman I didn’t recognize and two men I knew from back in the day but couldn’t quite remember their names. I was dying to know how things turned out for Tim, and while I could have looked him up, I knew better than to trust the internet for information.

Tim had been a straight-A student, dual-enrolled in college courses as he finished his high school diploma early. Considering he graduated with the class before ours thanks to all that hard work, I was surprised to learn he’d be here, but I was just as glad to see him. “Hey, Tim.”

“Julian Black, holy shit, you actually came!” he said, yanking me into a bear hug. Tim’s blond hair had gone a little thin on top, but otherwise, he still looked like the guy I knew from back in the day. Taller than me, fit, and smiling. “This is Andra, my wife.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand. She was pretty and at least ten years older than the rest of us, with chin-length brown hair and green eyes that crinkled when she smiled. By the depth of those crinkles, she smiled a lot. “Did you two meet in college?”

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