Page 2 of The Engagement Party

“I don’t know Ruthie.”

“You’re a few seconds behind here, and I’m guessing that’s on purpose.” The more painful the conversation became, the more determined she was to push through it. Not for any reason other than getting together with old friends should matter to Mitch even though he was trying mighty hard to prove it didn’t.

He leaned against the doorframe. “I can’t go.”

“Right.” She glanced around, taking in the paperwork carnage. “I know the office looks like we got hit by a cyclone, but it’s manageable. I can—”

“I don’twantto go.”

There it was.Finally.Only took him a bunch of cryptic sentences to get there. “That’s a different answer.”

He shrugged but didn’t leave the room.

“You haven’t been back to Maine since...”Well, shit.She’d meant to avoid this topic. “Uh... college graduation.”

His smile looked genuine this time. “Subtle.”

“Sorry.” She’d intended to sidestep the two subjects guaranteed to make Mitch’s mood dive and his sarcasm spike, but she’d managed to crash right into one. Biting humor was his go-to avoidance move. She’d taken exactly one online psychology class, so she knew these things.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but this event isn’t about what happened back then. It’s an engagement party.” She tried to make the occasion soundfun but was pretty sure she’d failed. “Maybe it would be good to replace a terrible memory with a good one.”

“Have you ever found revisiting the past to be a positive thing?”

“Well, no, but... Okay, no. But it’s possible you might need to go back?” She winced as she said the words.

“You think I haven’t moved on.”

Hell, no.He hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t date, kept most people on the acquaintance and easy-to-drop superficial level, and restricted his deep friendship circle to exactly one—her.

He liked and trusted her. She was in love with him. End of sad story.

Romance or not, she wanted more for him. If not with her, fine. She’d muddle through, but he’d been dealt a really shitty hand in life. The kind of personal history that would break most people, and she feared he was moving closer to broken-and-unfixable as the years ticked by.

“You can see your friends. Remember the good times.” He looked less convinced the longer she droned on, but that’s what she did. When she wanted to win him over she tended to clobber him with arguments until he either let her win or he walked away in a grumbling haze of profanity. She had no idea which way this time would go. “Go celebrate Will and this Ruthie person then report back on what she’s like because I’m nosy. I’m betting she’s a blonde and wealthy. Have you seen photos? Is she?”

“I don’t want to remember anything about that time of my life.”

She sighed at him. “You can’t ignore four years of your life because of...”

His eyebrow lifted. “A murder?”

Well, shit.She’d done it again. She’d taken that damn psych class thinking she could support him. She wanted her money back. “Okay. Yeah, I can’t imagine what that was like for you or what it’s still like. I also can’t imagine college since I didn’t go, but the party feels monumental. Adult. Like, you need to reconnect with these people who shaped so much of who you are so youcanmove on.”

He exhaled long and loud in a you’re-never-going-to-shut-up-about-this-otherwise way. “Come with me. The invitation says it’s for two. If I’m going, I’m not going alone.”

She flipped the card around a few times before she saw the additional handwriting at the bottom about a guest. “Huh. I missed that part.”

“And I vowed never to step foot in Maine again, so we’re even.”

Right. That. The impact of the moment hit her. Her rah-rah support ignored his distress and ran right over his trauma, and she never meant to do either.

“You know what? Ignore me. I wasn’t thinking about...” The right words abandoned her. She didn’t want to mentionmurderorpolice,so she just stopped talking.

He shrugged again. “We’re going. Pack a sweater and whatever weapon makes you feel safe at night. My experience is you’ll need both.”

Chapter Three

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