She steps back and scans me. “Yeah, you are kind of a mess.” She grins, and waves me toward the powder room. “Okay. Not crazy is an acceptable goal. Go for it!”
—
THE BUILDING ISimpressive—a three-story mirrored-glass office structure with a sign that readsRoss Real Estate. Just minutes after I speak to the receptionist in the modern entry, a familiar man emerges from a back hallway. “Hello. I’m Brett Ross.”
“Yes, I know.” I shake the hand he extends to me. He still looks like the high school heartthrob I remember—tall, dark, and handsome. His brown hair maybe isn’t quite as thick as it was and his eyes are etched with fine lines, but in that unfair way of men, the years look good on him. “I used to watch you play football.”And fantasize you were kissing me when I kissed my own hand.
“You did? I thought you were too much of a brainiac to bother with sports.”
I lift my shoulders. “I made it to a few games.”
“Well, it’s great to see you. You look better than ever.”
“Thanks.”
“So you and your husband are moving to Seattle, huh?”
I hope so. When I checked my phone in the parking lot, I still hadn’t heard from Zack. I hide any uncertainty behind a wide smile. “Yes,” I say.
“Well, welcome back! I have a few appointments set up for you, so if you’re ready...”
I nod and walk with him to the parking lot. He opens the passenger door of a shiny white Porsche SUV.
“Nice ride,” I say.
He gives an apologetic smile. “I’m not normally into conspicuous consumption, but having a flashy car is part of the real estate game around here.”
“It’s lovely,” I say. I notice a child’s safety seat in the back as he rounds the car and gets in the driver’s seat. “You have kids?”
He buckles his seat belt and starts the engine. “One. A boy. You?”
“No.” I force a smile. “Not—not yet. So how’s Sue Anne?”
“Okay, I think.”
He glances over. My surprise must show on my face, because he smiles as he drives out of the parking lot. “We’re divorced. It’s been about a year and a half now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, me too.” He turns onto the street. “It’s hard with a kid.”
I don’t know what to say. “You two always looked like the perfect couple.”
He lifts his shoulders. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
“Phaedrus,” I say automatically.
“What?”
“The man who originally said that. He was a pal of Plato’s, and the quote is commonly attributed to him.”
“You are just too smart.” He laughs and shakes his head. “How do you remember stuff like that?”
I learned at an early age that knowing the source of a quote is impressive, so I’ve memorized lots of them. It’s only impressive if it seems effortless, though, so I never admit I work at it.
I shrug. “Useless trivia sticks in my brain.”
“Not just useless trivia,” he says. “You were valedictorian.”
