Page 61 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“What’s that?” My eyes are still on Olivia. She’s laughing with Megan. They’ve been joined by two guys who played on our football team.

“You haven’t found the one?” Gil asks.

“I haven’t.”

“I think you have.”

I turn to make eye contact with Gil.

“I’m not sure how you ended up convincing Maisy to fall for you, but I’m pretty certain you understand the fundamentals of romance by now. A relationship requires both people falling for each other. Nothing happens until they show mutual interest.”

“But you are interested?”

“I think I am.”

I don’t know how or when it happened, but there’s not another woman in the world I would even consider pursuing. For me, it’s Olivia Pennington, or it’s no one.

“I know you are,” Gil says smugly, reminding me of the tone he used to take in high school when he thought he had me figured out. “A man doesn’t bail out a woman’s sister because he wants to be nice. Even you have a limit to your generosity.”

“Shhh,” I warn Gil. “I told you never to mention that to anyone. Not even to me. And not here.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just saying.”

Our classmates continue to flow through the doors, register, and mingle in clusters around the room. A half-hour later, we’re ushered to round tables in a ballroom that’s been decorated in our school colors of burgundy and grey.

I’m seated with Gil and Maisy. Olivia is sitting with Megan and six other classmates—one couple, two single men, and two other women. My eyes drift to her throughout the meal. I try to focus on the conversation happening at our table, but I feel nearly agitated that I can’t hear what Olivia is saying or what’s being said to her. Her laughter filters across the dining room, and I turn to see her face lit up, head tossed back, eyes alight with happiness. She’s a vision, and I’m powerless to resist the pull she has over me tonight.

When dinner is over, Ginny takes the stage. An area at the front of the ballroom has been set apart as a large dance floor. The tables have been spread around the back and sides of the room. Ginny’s on stage, in front of the live band that played throughout our meal, holding a microphone like she was born for public speaking.

“I’d like to invite two people up on stage with me. They have no idea we’ve planned this, but we want to acknowledge their achievements as a class.”

She pauses for effect and then she says, “Logan Alexander and Olivia Pennington, will you join me up here?”

I glance across the room at Olivia. She looks as surprised as I feel. She smiles nervously, and it feels like she’s letting me in on a secret. I nearly form the wordsI’ve got you, but I don’t know what exactly we’re in for. Maybe this is the prom king and queen dance.

Ginny continues her intro as Olivia and I make our way toward the stage. “In high school, you have your popular crowd, and you have the jocks, the band nerds, the emo/goth contingency, the preppies, the theater kids …” A cheer rises up from two tables filled with the drama club members. “And then you have these two. They weren’t quite jocks. They definitely weren’t nerds, though their GPAs would beg to differ. They weren’t preppy, though we’ve all been to Logan’s parents’ house.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd.

“These two were good at everything. Am I right?”

A few people shout out responses like, “The best!” or “Yes!” even though the question was rhetorical.

I meet Olivia at the base of the stage. She looks up at me. She’s taller in her heels, though still not nearly as tall as me. And she’s even more beautiful up close than she appeared at a distance. She smells as intoxicating as she looks—a mixture of flowers and honey and something slightly exotic. The scent seems to have been custom made for her: sweet, elusive, intriguing, alluring, and surprisingly irresistible.

I nod at Olivia and extend my arm so she can lean on it as we ascend the steps together.

“So,” Ginny continues. “When the committee was pulling this reunion together, we realized it was imperative for us to acknowledge these two classmates of ours. They were the brains and hearts and feet behind so much of our combined memories of Sweethaven High.”

Ginny turns to me and Olivia. “We knew you two F.A.R.T.s would go far.”

The whole room erupts into laughter.

I haven’t thought of F.A.R.T.s in forever. If I were going to leave a legacy at Sweethaven, I should have had the foresight to change that acronym before I left.

Ginny continues, “And now you’re both working for the same company, putting your marketing degrees to use.”

She did her research.

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