Page 2 of One Week Wingman

“Impossible.” Seb smirks. “I wake up like this.”

“And so humble, too.” I toss a dishrag at him. He ducks.

“Please?” he asks again. “Pretty please? Get me out of this mess, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Sorry,” I grin. “You made her bed, now you have to lay in it.”

“You’re a cruel woman, Roxanne,” he says, sliding off the stool. He straightens his shoulders, steals a shot of whiskey I’ve just poured on the bar, and heads back to their table.

“Who are you tormenting now?” Charlie appears from his back office, the week’s schedule in hand.

“Don’t wave that thing at me,” I tell him, flicking the sheet of paper as I pass. “I’ve got the week off. Did you forget?”

“Of course not,” he teases. “We’ve all been counting the days.”

“At least someone is,” I tell him with a sigh. “My high school reunion is very much not my idea of a good time.”

“But reunions are the best!” We’re interrupted by Jenn, Callie, and Piper, who greet me with hugs and air kisses. “All the gossip, the drama…”

“The plastic surgery.” Callie notes with a smirk. She’s dating one of the other owners, Dash, and has her own makeup line, so is always wearing the best lipstick looks.

“Not in Ashford Falls,” I reply, thinking of my small hometown. “One time, Margie Forsyth had surgery for a deviated septum, and the phones were buzzing for a month whether she got a little extra done.”

They laugh. “Your hometown always sounds so quaint,” Jenn says. She’s a friend of mine from our ‘stitch and bitch’ knitting circle. Her boyfriend hooked me up with the job a few months ago, and just like that, I was adopted into the sprawling social group.

“You say ‘Quaint,’ I say, ‘Full of stifling busybodies,’” I correct them, smiling. “Mimosas?”

“Yes please,” the women chorus, settling in the corner booth for their usual brunch catch-up. I grab the champagne and juice and come fill their glasses.

“You’d better get some fries with that,” I add. “I don’t want a repeat of Three-Pitcher Sunday.”

All three women shudder at the memory. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Piper scolds me. As Dash’s younger sister, she knows where all the bodies are buried—but you’d never guess it, to look at her sweet, blonde smile.

“My mistake,” I grin. “Although, be warned, I’m going to come back from this reunion needing four pitchers, at least. Who even invented the concept?”

“Someone who actually enjoyed high school,” Jenn replies. “And wanted to inflict the torment on the rest of us all over again.”

“I didn’t go to mine,” Callie agrees. “Skipped the whole thing, stayed in, and drank two-buck chuck until I got a headache. Same result, way less therapy.”

“Tempting,” I sigh, pouring another drink. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure why I’m even going. So they can award me with a prize for ‘Biggest Waste of Potential’? Being a law school dropout bartender isn’t exactly worth bragging about.”

“You know that’s not true.” Jenn gives my arm a supportive squeeze. “You have an amazing life. But if you’re not feeling it, bail. Some things are better left in the past with low-rise jeans and over-plucked brows.”

“I wish that was true,” Piper speaks up. “But according to TikTok… Low-rise is back!”

I finish up my shift,pouring another two-dozen mimosas and pocketing a healthy wad of tips, before finally grabbing my stuff and clocking out. I have a guitar lesson scheduled this evening, teaching one of the kids in my building, and I want to pick up some new sheet music on the way back.

“Have fun at your reunion,” Charlie calls, looking up from his laptop. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Not much chance of getting in trouble in Ashford Falls,” I laugh. “Unless I set fire to the hay bale maze or literally upset an apple cart.”

As I head for the doors, I see Seb is looking increasingly desperate on his date, his eyes darting around the room in panic. Lulu the Blonde is showing him photos on her phone, that looks from here to be… an American Doll collection? Even though he totally got himself into this mess, I decide to take pity on him.

I stop at his table and put my hands on my hips.

“I’ve been trying to be cool about this,” I say. “And pretend like it’s not happening right in front of me, but I can’t keep quiet any longer. This is just too much!”

Seb blinks up at me, confusion written all over his annoyingly handsome face. “Pardon?”

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