“Promise me one thing,” I say to Sam before he stands to head back into his office. “That you’ll use some of the money to buy yourself a new suit. If you show up to the fundraiser in that ugly brown thing you wore to Beth’s court hearing I’ll have security turn you away.”
I dodge the empty sundae cup that he flicks in my direction, but don’t miss his bright smile as he ambles away.
“You knowwho would be a great recruit to promote Hope House?” I say to Anna the next evening, my laptop open on my lap as I sit cross-legged on her couch.
“Who?” she asks, stirring the veggies she has sautéeing on the stove.
“Mindy Baines. You know, the girl we went to school with? She’s an author now, I’ve read a few of her books. Some of them have touched on domestic violence.”
Anna stops stirring and turns to face me, placing a hand on her hip.
“You know, I got a Facebook invitation for our ten year high school reunion. I think it’s on tomorrow night, but I wasn’t going to go. Should I check if she’s RSVP’d?”
“Yes!” I respond, sitting up taller. Then I slump as a thought crosses my mind. Anna notices.
“I don’t think you have to worry about either Zayn or Daniel turning up to the reunion. Could you see either of them at the local pub having a drink with old classmates?” She laughs. “Daniel’s ego is too big to fit in the front door, and Zayn didn’t interact with anyone at school other than us and Percy.”
The truth of her words sinks in while she opens up the invite. She’s right, I don’t think the risk of running into either of them there is high.
“Yes! It says she’s attending!”
I beam at Anna and ignore the pang I felt when she mentioned Zayn’s name. I’d received another text from him this morning.
Zayn: Please, Gianna. I need to talk to you.
As I still have no clue what to say to Zayn or how to rectify the situation, I ignored it. I know I’m on borrowed time. Both Zayn and Daniel will seek me out eventually, but I guess I’ll deal with that when the time comes.
“Why doI feel like we’re Romy and Michele heading into their high school reunion?” Anna laughs as we step through the front doors of the Lucky Hat.
“Probably because we watched it the other night, and also because you styled us in near matching outfits,” I respond, referring to our practically identical long sleeve top and skirt combos. Except where Anna wears knee-high boots, I have on a pair of strappy nude heels. “Just don’t tell anyone we invented post-its.”
“Fine. Which one of us gets the millionaire at the end of the night?”
“You, please,” I tell her, spotting a sign near a sectioned off area of the pub labelled ‘Hillmouth Reunion’. I point Anna in that direction and follow behind her. “Last time I slept with a millionaire he ended up being my lost love. I don’t need that kind of drama right now.”
“I’ll be happy to oblige then,” she responds, checking her phone as we pull up to the bar. We’ve barely taken a sip of our martinis before a group of old friends approach us and we spend the next half hour catching up on each other’s lives since leaving school.
Anna is the only friend I kept in touch with after high school ended. No one even seems to know that Daniel and I got married, because if they did, I most definitely would have been asked about him by now. The best part of not having social media, I would say. Sometimes it would irk me that Daniel never allowed me to have it, but now that I’m going through a divorce that has the potential to make front page news, I’m relieved for the anonymity.
I spot Mindy Baines walk in when Anna and I are two drinks deep and I approach her immediately, telling her how much I love her books. The conversation easily leads into my volunteer work for Hope House, and she gladlyagrees to post the fundraiser on her social media accounts. We finish the conversation with a warm embrace before she moves on to speak with some old friends of hers.
“How’d it go?” Anna asks when I find her back at the bar.
“So good! She agreed to help!”
I’m buzzing from my conversation with Mindy and the effects of two martinis in my blood-stream.
“Amazing! Let’s celebrate. I ordered you another martini. And I’ve watched the bar tender making it like a hawk.”
“Thanks, Anna.” I throw an arm around her waist and give it a squeeze. Now that I’m here to take over drink-watch duty, Anna opens her bag and slips a glance down at her phone.
“You’ve been doing that all night,” I observe, cocking my head to the side. “Are you expecting a call from someone?”
She snaps her purse shut and avoids my gaze, grabbing the stem of the martinis the bartender just placed on the bench top and handing one to me.
“Maybe I told a certain red-head with exceptional sexual prowess where I would be tonight in hopes that he would show,” she admits, taking a sip and flicking her eyes toward the entrance of the pub.
“Are you serious?” I falter, my brows lifting in surprise. “Do you…like…Percy?”
