He’d known that smile.
“Sarah?" He’d blinked, stunned. "It’s been … what, four years?”
“Five,” she’d said, sliding onto the stool beside him like she belonged there. “You look like someone who’s about to make a questionable life decision.”
He’d given a sheepish laugh. “I might be. I just graduated last year. Now I’m stuck between a teaching job and a quarter-life crisis.”
“Well, if you’re going to spiral, at least have the courtesy to do it with better beer.” She’d signaled the bartender and given him a nod. “Put it on my tab.”
“Look at you, all successful and generous. What are you up to now?”
“I’m working over at Siesic as a food scientist. Which is just a fancy way of saying I make sure your granola bars don’t kill you.”
He’d grinned. “Heroic.”
“I try.” She’d studied him for a second, more thoughtfully. “I always thought you’d end up doing something that mattered. I’m not surprised.”
The compliment had landed deep.
“Call me if you decide you need a sugar momma,” she’d added with a wink. “I still owe you a drink anyway.”
He’d watched her walk away, stunned by how effortless it still was between them.
“She’s got you spun, honey,” the bartender had said, sliding the new drink toward him. “Want another, or just gonna sit there smiling like a fool?”
Hunter hadn’t answered. He’d just looked at the glass, then at the door she’d walked through. He would call her the next night. They’d talk for hours.
Ten years later, he would stand in the same ballroom where they’d had their first dance as husband and wife. Now, he stood beside Sadie and a roomful of students, not the woman who once lit his entire world.
“Are you going to be okay?” Sadie asked.
Hunter knew his face had dropped. He knew tears welled beneath his eyelashes. He knew his fists were clenched.
“I think a lot of women like a man who can cry,” Sadie said. “I’d use it.”
“Sadie, it would be completely appropriate for you to give me some space,” Hunter said.
“Sure thing, man,” she said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“How come you guys can talk during the tour, but we can’t?” asked a boy with combed-over chestnut hair that hung down to his chin like he had just been to Warped Tour.
“You might make a good lawyer someday, Brandon,” Sadie said. “But ultimately, the answer is because we said so.”
“And that’s it for the inside,” the tour guide announced, clapping his hands. “Now I think we will take lunch outside andrejoin for the garden tour in about forty-five minutes. Does that work well, teachers and parents?”
“It does,” Hunter responded.
“Make sure not to venture into the woods,” the guide warned. “That would be an issue for the insurance. All over my head.”
“What’s out there?” A gaggle of excited students immediately took the bait.
“Rumor has it they’re haunted. That if you venture deep enough into the woods, and you sing, you will wake something terrifying.” The guide bent his knees dramatically, holding out his hand like a claw, growing more animated.
“I’ve sung in those woods on a dare,” Hunter whispered to Sadie. “You know, as a kid.”
That was a lie.
Why would you lie about that?