Page 60 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“Logan Alexander,” she smiles up at me. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Thanks, Ginny. How have you been?”

I hope this whole evening isn’t going to be a series of superficial conversations in which we share the details we could have just as easily discovered on each other’s social media pages.

“I’m good. Divorced.” She holds her bare hand up to show the absence of any ring.

“Oh.”

Laney Bridgers leans over from her spot next to Ginny and elbows her lightly. “That means she’s single and ready to mingle!”

Ginny blushes. “Well, here’s your badge for the night and your coupon for a free drink at the bar.” She hands me a lanyard with a photo of me from the high school yearbook juxtaposed with a photo of me now. Then she hands me a ticket. “We’re just mingling for now. There will be dinner followed by dancing. And, of course,thedance …”

“Thedance?” I ask.

“Between you and Olivia Pennington. Prom king and prom queen. It’s a tradition.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

I had no idea.

I nod at Ginny and Laney and excuse myself to join Gil and Maisy.

“So far, this is living up to my worst nightmares,” Gil says when I approach him.

“No, it is not,” Maisy says with a soft smile. “You caught up with a few guys you haven’t seen in years. And we’re out for the night, with a meal I didn’t have to cook and some dancing, which we barely ever do anymore.”

“So, let me rephrase that,” Gil says. “This reunion is now officially the best date I’ve taken my wife on in years.”

Maisy smiles and interlocks their hands, leaning into Gil’s shoulder. “We need to get out more … obviously,” she says in her amiable way.

“I don’t know.” Gil turns his face so he can place a kiss on the top of Maisy’s head. “I kind of like staying in with you better.”

A few of the guys from my old debate team walk over. We catch up on who’s married, who has kids, and where everyone works.

“I’m surprised you’re not married with a kid or two,” Sal “Spike” Haynes says to me. “You were the one all the girls wanted to date back in the day.”

“I haven’t found the one I want to settle down with yet,” I tell Spike.

“Well, don’t wait too long,” Spike says. “One day you’ll wake up with half your hair and a belly that makes you look like a lowercase letter B. It’ll be too late then. Women aren’t as eager to date a man when he’s past his prime and his chest is in his drawers.”

He cracks up.

I nod politely. But my eyes drift to the doorway. Something tugs at my attention.

When I see her, I know why I couldn’t stay focused on Spike.

Wow.

Olivia’s dressed in a dark blue cocktail dress with matching heels. She’s walking in through the doorway and a breeze catches the hem of her skirt, swaying the fabric just the slightest. Her dress is tasteful but sexy. Her wavy brown hair falls just past her shoulders, and she definitely has on more makeup than she usually wears. Her lips are a dark red with some sort of shimmer. It’s possible I’ve never noticed her mouth before, and now I’ll be seeing it in my dreams. And those chocolate brown eyes, which can be piercing or warm depending on her mood, light up when she approaches the table, smiling at the guy who hands over her lanyard.

Then she looks in my direction, and our eyes meet.

Her mouth tips up in a hesitant grin. She holds my gaze for a fleeting second before shifting away, roaming the room, searching for someone else. I can tell the moment she sees Megan because her face lights up. The two women connect in the middle of the room, but I’m only tracking Olivia. I can’t look away.

Spike has moved on. He’s talking to another classmate of ours—something about investments and annuities.

Gil leans in. “I’m curious about what you told Spike.”

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