“How is Brett?”
“He’s good. He’s here, actually. I’m his date. He and his wife just split. What about you? Are you married?”
This was why I hadn’t wanted to come to this thing. The questions.
Are you married?
Do you have kids?
Those were two very sensitive subjects for me.
Five years ago, I’d been sure I’d be able to answer yes to one of those. I thought that I’d have a ring on my finger. Now, now I didn’t know if I ever would.
I’d wasted my “good years” on Trent, who I was just starting to see would never change. We weren’t even exclusive, yet I’d been sure he was going to get down on one knee. He talked about it, a lot. But he was a lawyer, he was good at talking.
“Nope.” I responded as the elevator doors opened, and we got off.
Johnny made a left and headed for the ballroom where the reunion was being held. I made a sharp right toward the bar I’d seen when I’d checked in earlier across from the lobby. I could hear that Johnny was still talking but he’d figure out I wasn’t beside him eventually.
If I was going to have more conversations like that one, I needed something to take the edge off.
The bar was only about half full and I easily found a seat. When the bartender came over, he introduced himself as Micah.
He was at least six two, if not taller, with a dark complexion, manicured beard and green eyes that stood out against lashes so thick I was jealous. His shoulders were broad and the black button-down shirt he wore was rolled up on his forearms revealing several tattoos.
“What can I get you?”
“Vodka soda.”
“You here for the reunion?” he made small talk as he poured my drink.
“Yep.”
“How’s it going?”
“I haven’t actually gone in.”
“Fashionably late, huh?”
“Something like that.”
He placed the drink in front of me. “Let me guess, there’s an ex you’re nervous to see.”
“No, actually. He isn’t coming. If he was, I wouldn’t be here. No, this is just run of the mill social anxiety.”
I’d suffered from it since I was young. A therapist in college said that it was due to me moving so much when my dad was in the military, and even when he retired and went into the private sector, we still moved every few months.
“Interesting. Most people want to run into their exes at reunions.”
“Not me.” I took what was supposed to be a little drink but ended up draining half the glass. When I set it down, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “But I was sort of hoping that word, even pictures, might get back to him that I was here,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Is this a Revenge Body situation? Show him what he could have had if he hadn’t blown it?”
“No, not like that.” I shook my head. “He didn’t blow anything. He was…is probably…perfect.”
“Perfect, huh? That’s not what most people say about their exes.”
“Then they didn’t date my ex.” I finished my drink. “Can I get another one?”
