Page 24 of Perfectly Grumpy

Are you going to keep me waiting all night? You looked pretty cozy with him. And, of course, Abby is all ears about it.

Me

Our cousin?

Olivia

Do you have a minute?

I call immediately, if only to distract myself from the picture Tate sent. I know my sister is going to have a million questions, but once I explain he’s my PR project, she’ll quickly lose interest. My job isn’t nearly as interesting as gossiping over my love life. The problem is, I’ve been in a dry spell ever since Bart broke up with me almost a year ago, soon after the reunion.

“What’s up?” I ask as Olivia picks up.

“Abby’s bringing a guest to the family reunion,” she says, trying not to wake Kaylie or Camden.

I settle my plate of lo mein across my lap. “Granny’s going to be thrilled. Maybe it’ll take the spotlight off me, for once.”

She’s always pushing us to bring dates so they can “meet the family”—AKA endure an intense grilling from the relatives. She thinks it’ll make them feel welcome. It usually makes them run.

“I don’t know how Jake survived his first reunion,” Olivia says.

In the background, I hear Jake yell, “Anxiety meds. That’s how.”

I laugh. “Granny did interrogate him like he was applying for government clearance. And Aunt Karen basically forced him into the canoe race. Honestly, I don’t know how any guy survives the Williamson Family Olympics.”

“Exactly. Which is why?—”

“What?” I ask, suspicious now. My sister is never out of words. She’s usually like me that way.

“Well, Abby’s guest…he’s been to the reunion before.”

I freeze, noodles dangling mid-air from my chopsticks. “Wait. Who?”

“Don’t be mad, but she put his name down on the RSVP form.”

“Liv, just tell me.”

“Her ‘plus-one’ is…” She pauses. “Bart.”

The chopsticks I’m holding clatter onto my plate.

“Not Bart Baldwin,” I say, my voice flat. “My ex?”

“Yeah,” Olivia says. “That Bart.”

I stare at the wall, trying to process.

The ultra-competitive ex-football player I brought to the last reunion. The one who sulked every time he lost a game, acted like a martyr when I couldn’t drop everything for him, and dumped me right before Mom died—after picking a fight about how I “don’t make room forrelationships.”

ThatBart.

And this wasn’t even the first time Bart had broken my heart. He also stood me up at prom in high school—right after I wrote a glowing article about him for the school paper.

Same guy. Same pattern. A quarterback with a killer smile and a talent for making girls feel like they’re the problem.

And yet, I foolishly gave him a second chance. I don’t know, maybe I thought I was different. Maybe I thoughthewas.

We reconnected when we both joined the same gym, and he asked me out, saying he owed me an apology for what happened at prom. He was thoughtful on those first few dates, even sweet in a way that made me second-guess what I remembered about him. But that was before the reunion, before everything unraveled. That’s when I realized Bart hadn’t changed at all.

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