Page 51 of The Accidental Text

Dawson approached me when he first got here, telling mehow pretty I looked tonight. I told him he looked pretty too. Those were my actual words: “You look pretty too, Dawson.” It wasn’t a lie. He’s more than pretty in his charcoal-gray suit. He’s straight off a modeling runway, with that light-blue shirt underneath the jacket, making his crystal-blue eyes pop. The collar is unbuttoned and no tie. It’s sexy, is what it is.

There are so many adjectives I could have used. Handsome, gorgeous … I could have kicked off this night of flirting I’d planned with the wordattractive, even. Instead, I saidpretty. Then I asked him something about Chad.

Yes. I sure did. I’m so predictable.

I blame Chase. His coming tonight has upped my anxiety game by a million. What was I thinking when I asked him? What’s done is done. I should probably stay away from Dawson until Chase gets here. Until I’ve gotten my nerves in order. If that’s possible.

I work my way around the party, saying hello to everyone. I see my dad and June standing by the bar, so I walk over to them. Might as well get this over with.

“Hi, Dad,” I say as I approach.

“Magpie,” he says, extra brightly. He gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek. Then he holds on to my hands and takes a step back so we’re at arm’s length. “Well, don’t you look fantastic tonight.”

“Thanks, Dad. So do you.” He’s in a black suit and he looks … relaxed. And happy. With his eyes doing that little crinkling thing in the corner that they do. I feel like I haven’t seen that look on him in a while. Like his smiles have been empty as of late. But this feels like a genuine Nick Cooper smile.

He looks around the tent. “Everything turned out great,” hesays, letting go of my hands. “Happy twenty-five years.” He grabs his drink from the bar, holds it out, and does an air toast.

“Happy twenty-five years, Dad. You made this happen.” I smile at him, then add, “Make sure you tell Chelsea how great it is.”

“Already did,” he says. He winks at me.

He gestures over to June, who’s standing next to him with a drink in her hand. She’s in a pantsuit, the jacket sequined. Her dyed-blonde hair goes just past her shoulders. “You remember June.”

I look to June, who gives me a grand smile. And then looks at my dad and shakes her head.

“Does she remember me? Are you serious, Nick? Come here, sweetie, give this old lady a hug.”

She pulls me into a hug, and as much as I didn’t want her to be here, or like the fact that she and my dad have a song, hugging her feels … nice. And familiar. It’s a warm, tight hug, even if she’s a few inches shorter than me.

I stand back after the hug and take in the two of them together. My dad with his graying hair, looking extra debonair tonight. June hardly looks her age, with her beautiful fair skin. She has a classic look with a pointy chin and petite nose. My dad looks happy. I can admit that. And they look good together.

My gut does a clenching thing at that thought. If things hadn’t gone the way they had, it would be my mom standing here with my dad. She’d be fussing with my hair—kind of like Chelsea did—and she’d have a hand on me like she always did when she stood close. On my back or my arm. To comfort me and give me strength.

I blink my eyes a few times, feeling the heat burn behindthem. I can’t cry right now. That would be bad on so many levels.

Pretend, Maggie. Pretend.

“You here by yourself?” my dad asks, his lips pulled up into a small smile, his eyes twinkling in the colorful lights coming from the DJ table.

“Hannah is meeting me here later,” I say, even though I doubt she’ll show up. But I don’t want my dad thinking I’m alone and then inviting me to stay with him and June. Plus, I have someone else coming. My stomach clenches again.

“You look gorgeous,” June says.

“Thank you,” I say, rubbing my sweaty hands on the sides of my thighs.

Telling them that I need to go find Chelsea, I excuse myself from June and my dad and walk over to the other side of the tent. I look out at the cars on display. They range from a Mustang to an Aston Martin. My dad’s Lamborghini sits parked partially underneath the tent on the other side of the dance floor.

I think Chelsea and Devon were right. I think that whole “friend” pitch my dad gave us was just that: a pitch. I guess I knew that from their flirty texts, but I may have been holding out hope. Like it was a fluke or just an inside joke or something.

I blink back some more tears and take a big breath. Then I look at my watch and see that I have one minute until Chase is due to arrive. The teary feeling is now replaced by a big sack of rocks at the bottom of my gut.

I’m about to meet Chase.

I don’t even know if he’s the type of person to be early or late. Maybe he’s already here? Will I even recognize him when I see him? I didn’t even tell him what I was wearing so he couldfind me. Was this the craziest idea I’ve ever had? I invited the man who now has my mom’s phone number to a party—a work party. This might be top on the list of craziest things I’ve done. And I’ve swam with sharks. In a tank, of course, but still.

“Maggie?” a rich-sounding deep voice says from behind me, interrupting my crazy train of thoughts.

I feel my pulse skip and jump. I take a steadying breath before turning around.

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