Page 84 of One Week Wingman

“You love it, really,” I giggle.

“I do. Us Brits don’t have a prom,” he explains, as we finally load up into the limo and hit the road.

“What?” Daisy gasps, from the seat opposite. “That’s terrible. How do you celebrate the end of high school?”

“By squeezing into Danny McIntyre’s old Fiat and driving to Reading music festival,” he says with a smile. “Three days of hard rock music, muddy campsites, and portable loos so foul that—well, I’m a gentleman, I won’t detail them here in polite company.”

I laugh. Sebastian’s years growing up in England sound so foreign to me, but then, I guess that’s why he still flips out every time Meatloaf comes on the radio.

Daisy produces a bottle of champagne and glasses. “To the reunion!” she announces, passing out drinks.

“The reunion,” we echo, toasting. Jason catches my eye across the limo as we clink glasses and holds it for a moment. I wonder if he’s remembering our prom, in the back of a limo just like this one. It feels like a lifetime ago, especially with Sebastian cozied up beside me, and Daisy beaming adoringly at Jason.

“It’s so amazing to have everyone back here, together again. Isn’t it?”

Evan smirks. “Amazing that I could even drag Nita here tonight. I had to promise her a four-tier chocolate cake just to show up.”

“For what we’re about to endure? That’s a bargain,” I inform him, as Nita and I share a wry laugh. A few days ago, we would have done just about anything to skip this whole event, but somehow, thanks to Daisy’s enthusiasm, and the champagne bubbles, and—yes, the handsome man in a tuxedo with his arm draped around my shoulder—I’m actually feeling more optimistic by the time we pull up at the vineyard.

Maybe tonight won’t suck. Maybe I might actually have some fun, and not feel crushed by the weight of my insecurities and self-doubt.

A girl can dream, right?

Natalia meets us in the main lodge, looking elegant as ever in some fabulous palazzo pants and a strappy top, with an armful of balloons. “Blue and yellow, right?” she asks.

“Sorry about all of this,” I apologize, but she just smiles.

“Are you kidding? We haven’t had this much excitement here in years! Where do you want these?”

“Over by the main doors,” Daisy interrupts us. In an instant, she transforms into a drill sergeant, checking her phone. “Bus A is ten minutes out, Bus B is right behind them. The catering crew brought all the decorations that weren’t destroyed, we need to get them set up.”

I giggle, sipping the last of my champagne. “Should we get you a whistle and a hat?” I ask.

She gives me a steely look. “Balloons in the main entrance, go!”

“Yes ma’am!”

We spring into action, fetching and carrying, and getting the last things set up. Luckily, the vineyard is such a gorgeous location, it doesn’t take more than a few blue and yellow decorations to make things look festive, and soon, it looks like this was the plan all along: the sprawling terrace lit by lamps and twinkling tea lights, with the catering in the big hall inside, and the DJ warming up. By the time the first bus arrives, the reunion is well and truly saved.

“Nice work,” I tell Daisy, as everyone pours inside, and shrieks of greeting and excitement echo. “You really saved the day.”

“You mean, Stefano did,” she replies. “That man can handle anything.”

Including my body.I glance over at where he’s gamely greeting newcomers, and steering them to the bar, like he’s deeply invested in Ashford Falls High’s big reunion and wasn’t just conscripted into this whole thing a few days ago.

But I’ve seen him dazzle like this before—every Friday night at the bar, to a new woman, the latest challenge. He sees me watching and gives a big wave. And I wonder, am I just the latest flavor of the week?

Or could this be something more real?

The reunion gets underway,and is soon one massive, nostalgic party, with music blasting and wine flowing into the night. I stick close to Nita, avoiding all the bitches of high-school past, and as the hours slip by, I find I’m actually having fun, dancing to all our old throwback playlists under the stars.

“Not so terrible, huh?” Nita comments, as we shake and shimmy to Katy Perry on the makeshift dancefloor.

“I know!” I exclaim, smiling. “I can’t believe I was dreading this. Of course, it helps that we’re not back in the old gymnasium having trauma flashbacks.”

She laughs. “It’s gorgeous here, I can see why Seb loves it.”

I look around at the vineyard grounds, full of life and energy. “Plus, it’s perfect for big events like this. Maybe that can be part of the business,” I muse. “Weddings, parties…”

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