Ten Years Later…

“I didn’t want them to have to see an ugly old lady,” she said simply.

“You’re not an ugly old lady, Mom. You’re a pretty old lady,” he said, tongue in cheek.

“Remind me to hit you when I get better,” she answered.

That had been the test. Had she taken a swipe at him, the way she had in the past when the teasing between them had escalated, he would have felt that perhaps there’d been a false alarm, that she was really all right.

But her restraint told him the exact opposite. That she wasn’t all right.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re not an old lady, Mom. You know that. You look younger than women fifteen years younger than you are.”

She smiled at him, grateful for the compliment, even though she knew it was a huge exaggeration.

“Nevertheless, a lady should always look her best,” she maintained.

He shook his head, but unlike the old days, this time it was affection rather than impatience that filled him. That was his mother, determined to look her best no matter what the situation. He had to admire that kind of strong will.

And then he realized what she’d just told him. “You had to call nine-one-one?”

This was just going to be the first of many lies, Barbara thought, even as she reminded herself that it was all for an ultimate greater good.

“Yes. But it wasn’t so bad, dear,” she assured him. “The young men took very good care of me.”

There was genuine regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Mom.”

She patted his hand, the simple gesture meant to absolve him of any blame. “Don’t give it another thought. You have your own life, Sebastian. And besides, you’re here now and that’s what counts,” she added.

“So tell me everything,” he urged. “What did the doctor say?”

“We can talk about all that tomorrow,” she told him, waving away his request. “Tonight I just want to look at you. You still like coffee?” she asked suddenly, then turning on her heel, she began to lead the way to the kitchen. “Or have you decided to switch to green tea now?”

“I still like coffee,” he answered.

“Nice to know that some things don’t change,” she told him.

Yes, but most things do, he thought, following behind her.

As the thought sank in, he could feel his heart aching. He should have come home a lot more, he upbraided himself. Even if coming home reminded him of all the things he’d given up and all the things he still didn’t have, he should have come home more often.

“Sure you’re up to this?” he asked his mother, concerned.

Barbara turned on the overhead lights, throwing the small, light blue kitchen into daylight.

“Putting water into a coffee urn? I think so,” she deadpanned. “And if for some reason I can’t, as I recall, you can.”

And then she paused to hook both her arms through his for a moment and just squeeze him to her.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you here. You’re just the best medicine I could ask for.”

Her words both gladdened his heart and pierced it with guilt. He switched the topic.

“Marilyn, huh?” The animal in question had followed them to the kitchen and had now positioned herself directly by the refrigerator, like a furry sentry who wanted to be paid in fish scraps. “Why Marilyn?”

“After Marilyn Monroe,” Barbara answered without any hesitation. “Because when she crosses a room, she moves her hips just like Marilyn Monroe did in Some Like It Hot.”

Sebastian pressed his lips together, knowing that his mother wouldn’t appreciate his laughing at her explanation. All he trusted himself to say, almost under his breath, was “If you say so, Mom.”

Turning away to look at the cat, he missed seeing the look of satisfaction that fleetingly passed over his mother’s face.

Chapter Two

“You look pretty, Mama.”

Brianna turned from the full-length mirror in her bedroom and glanced at the slightly prejudiced short person who had just uttered those flattering words. Sweet though it was, it wasn’t the compliment that had warmed her heart; it was what the little girl had called her.

Mama.

She wondered if she would ever get used to hearing that particular word addressed to her.

Certainly she knew that she’d never take it for granted, especially since, biologically speaking, she wasn’t Carrie’s mother.

But there was no denying that presently she was the four-year-old’s only family. She and her father, who, mercifully, had taken to the role of grandfather like the proverbial duck to water. He liked nothing better than doting on the curly-haired small girl and, in effect, being her partner in crime. Not only was Carrie precocious and the personification of energy, she also possessed a very active imagination.

“Least I can do after all you’ve done for me, Bree,” he’d told her when she’d commented on the unusual dynamics their family had taken on.

“You are my dad,” she reminded him, dismissing the need for any gratitude or words of thanks. “What was I supposed to do, just walk away and leave you to fend for yourself?”

He’d smiled at her. Brianna had never been one to take credit for anything. “A lot of other kids would have,” he’d pointed out. “And not many would have postponed their education—and their life,” he emphasized, recalling everything that had been involved that terrible summer when she’d stayed behind to nurse him after his horrific car accident.

An accident that his doctors insisted would leave him totally paralyzed, if not a comatose vegetable. Brianna had been his one-woman cheering section, refusing to allow him to wallow in self-pity or give in to the almost crippling pain. Instead, she’d worked him like a heartless straw boss. He gave up every day, but not Brianna.

She’d kept insisting that he was going to walk away from his wheelchair no matter what his doctors said to the contrary. She took nursing courses and physical therapy courses, all with a single focus in mind: to get him to walk again.

And during whatever downtime she had, between working with him and studying, she’d pitched in to help run his hardware store, working with his partner, J.T., whenever the latter needed to have some slack picked up.

By Jim MacKenzie’s accounting, his daughter hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours a night for close to three years. The day he’d taken those first shaky steps away from his wheelchair, he remembered that she’d looked at him with tears in her eyes, a radiant smile on her lips, and declared, “Looks like I can go to bed now.”

Brianna now looked at the little girl who was sitting on her bed, waving her feet back and forth as if channeling out her energy to the world at large.

“Thank you, baby,” Brianna said to the child she’d come to love as her own.

“She doesn’t look pretty, Carrie,” Jim informed the little girl as he left his post in the doorway and walked into the room to join the two women in his life. “She looks beautiful.”

Brianna’s eyes met her father’s. A knowing smile curved her lips. “I’m onto you, you know. You’re just saying that because you want me to go to this silly reunion.”

In his own way, her father was as stubborn as she was. He didn’t believe in giving an inch. “I’m just saying it because it’s true—and because I want you to go out and have a good time.”

He was up to something and she knew it. “Then let’s go to the movies,” she suggested. “The three of us. My treat,” she added to sweeten the pot.

“Number one—” he ticked off on his fingers “—the movies aren’t going anywhere—they’ll always be there. Number two, even if I said yes to going, I don’t need you paying for my ticket. I’m the dad. I get to take the two of you out.”

Brianna seized the moment. “Great—let’s go.”

His eyes told her he wasn’t about to budge from his position. “But not tonight,” he continued, remaining firm. “Go, catch up with your friends,” he coaxed, then predicted, “It’ll be fun.”

Brianna sighed and shook her head, her light auburn hair swirling about her face like a pale red cloud. “Spoken like a man who has never had to attend any of his high school reunions.”

Carrie puckered her small face, a sure sign that she was trying to absorb the conversation around her. Given a choice, the little girl always preferred the company of adults to that of children her own age. She knew that adults occasionally even forgot that she was there, but she didn’t mind. She was content just to sit there, listening to them talk.

She was truly a sponge. Soaking up everything, her curiosity constantly being aroused.

“What’s a higher reunion?” she asked, looking from her grandfather to the woman she thought of as her mother.

“High school reunion,” Brianna corrected. “That’s when a bunch of people who used to go to the same classes together hold a party every few years so that they can pretend to be successful, making people jealous of them while they’re checking who got fat and who lost their hair.”

Carrie was quiet for a moment, then observed, “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Her point eloquently stated, Brianna looked at her father as she gestured toward Carrie. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Carrie’s lower lip stuck out just a shade as she protested, “I’m not a baby.”

“Maybe not,” Brianna allowed, giving the girl a quick hug, “but you’re my baby.”

“And you’re mine,” Jim informed her firmly, but with the same underlying note of love. “Now, shake a leg and get to this thing before it’s over.”

Brianna grinned, pretending to weigh the thought. “Now, there’s an idea. If I take my time getting ready and move really slowly, this lame reunion will be over by the time I get there.”

“I hereby declare you ready,” Jim announced, taking her by the hand and drawing her to the stairs. Carrie was quick to grab her other hand and follow suit, her blue eyes dancing. “I’m all set to babysit and you look fantastic. You have no excuse,” Jim concluded, his words firmly declaring that the discussion—or argument—was officially over.

Giving in, Brianna allowed herself to be led down the stairs. Once on the ground floor, she raised her hands in semisurrender. She gave her father her compromise.

“I’ll go—but I’ll be home early,” she told him.

He wasn’t through bargaining. “You’ll be home late and like it,” he countered. Putting his wide, hamlike hands to her back, he aimed her at the front door and gave her a little push. “Now go.”

This time, it was an order.

With a sigh, Brianna gave in. In the long run, it was easier that way. Kissing Carrie and then her father goodbye, she left.

Her CR-V, the car that J.T. had left to her upon his incredibly untimely death, was parked in the driveway and she crossed to it.

According to the very short will, J.T. had stated that the vehicle was an inadequate thank-you present. Though it wasn’t spelled out, Brianna knew he was thanking her for saying that she would be Carrie’s guardian in the event that something happened to him.

And then “something” had.

A week before their quickly planned wedding, J.T. had died in what amounted to a freak boating accident.

All throughout the funeral, she couldn’t help thinking of the old adage J.T. had always been fond of quoting: If you wanted to make God laugh, tell Him you’ve started making plans.

She certainly hadn’t planned for it to be this way. She had a daughter—and a CR-V—and no husband, no shot at attaining “happily ever after.”

It was the second time that had happened to her.

Was that it? she wondered suddenly. Was that why she kept attending these damn reunions?

Was that why she’d let her father talk her into attending this one?

Because deep down inside, was she hoping that the first man who had made her yearn for a “happily ever after” before it had all turned to dust might attend this reunion?

As she drove down the brightly lit streets, she reminded herself that Sebastian Hunter hadn’t attended the last reunion. Why in heaven’s name did she think he was going to attend this one?

And even if he did, a little voice in her head mocked her, are you going to rush up to him, throw your arms around him and say, “Let’s pick up where we left off”?

“No, of course not,” Brianna said tersely, defensively, giving voice to her thoughts out loud.

Brianna took in a deep breath and unconsciously squared her shoulders as she came to a stop at a red light. Annoyed at the path her thoughts were taking, she reminded herself that she was made of sterner stuff than that. She hadn’t cracked up when her father had almost died in that car accident—she’d stuck by him and done what had to be done.

And she hadn’t cracked up when the guy she loved more than anything on earth had left her behind to go to college, emotionally stranding her and growing progressively more and more distant until he’d finally just completely disappeared from her life.

She hadn’t even given up and booked a ride on the SS Catatonic when J.T. was killed.

Instead, she’d faced each and every one of her challenges, emerging whole on the other side. Moreover, she knew she would continue to face her challenges, determined to come out the victor no matter what dragon she was forced to battle.

Raising her head up a little higher, Brianna drove on.

Sebastian frowned behind his near-empty wineglass. He still couldn’t believe that he had actually wound up here, despite his determination not to set foot into this sad little affair.

He was here because his mother had begged him to attend. Face-to-face with those incredibly sad eyes of hers, he found that the word no just refused to emerge.

Sebastian was far from happy about this unexpected turn of events.

But it was all his own fault. He couldn’t blame anyone else for his being here right now. The blame rested squarely on his own shoulders. He’d been so desperate to do anything to please his infirm mother, he’d made the mistake of saying as much—and this, this, was the only thing she asked of him. To attend his high school reunion—and then come home and tell her all about it in the morning.

Except that there wasn’t all that much to tell, he thought, slowly looking around and taking in the various little cliques gathered together throughout the large room.

Apparently the “mean kids” were now “mean adults,” and the “nice kids” were still their targets, even though they were now, for the most part, “nice adults.”

And, he noted, the ones who went on to make something of themselves and become successful had skipped the reunion entirely.

Just as he should have done.

Just as he had intended on doing until he’d been informed of his mother’s stroke.

Okay, so he was here now because he’d promised his mother he would attend. However, he hadn’t told her how long he’d be staying, so the duration of this Chinese water torture was strictly up to him.

Sebastian glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock. As good a time as any to declare that his stint in hell was officially over.

Draining the last bit of punch from the glass he’d been holding on to for the past hour—at least the food and drink had been excellent—Sebastian put the empty glass down on one of the side tables.

Time for a swift exit.

He looked neither to the left nor to the right, afraid that if he accidentally made eye contact with anyone he might be forced to spend an extra few minutes engaged in stilted, polite conversation with a person he would only pretend to remember.

It was exactly because he was avoiding making any sort of possible eye contact that he didn’t see her.

Not until they had collided.

At that point, they were just two bodies with definite goals in mind and gaits that resembled slightly disoriented gazelles attempting to flee their unwanted location.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Brianna automatically apologized, stepping back and trying to collect herself. She felt slightly flustered, but did her best not to show it.

“No, it was totally my fault,” Sebastian said, annoyed with himself for being so preoccupied that he’d been oblivious of where he was going.

Mercifully, at least there were no small, half-filled glasses of red punch to christen the unplanned collision. He really didn’t want to remain here one more moment than he already had. So far, he hadn’t really run into anyone he knew and for simplicity’s sake, and the sake of a clean getaway, he wanted to keep it that way.

Drawing back, he reached out to steady the woman he’d nearly sent sprawling. He caught her by her slender shoulders. The next moment, his vision clearing, enabling him to actually focus on the face of the woman before him, he dropped his hands from her shoulders, stunned.

At the same time, Sebastian’s jaw dropped.

The one person he hadn’t wanted to run into at the reunion was standing less than five inches away from him.

Looking far more radiant than he ever remembered her looking.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t her.

“Bree?” He cleared his throat and this time managed to say her full name. It came out in the form of a question. “Brianna?”

And even as he said her name, he tried to convince himself that he was mistaken. That he had just bumped into someone who merely reminded him of the girl he’d left behind.

The girl who had, in effect, emotionally stranded him, leaving him adrift.

Brianna could feel her stomach sinking—and fervently wished that the rest of her could go, too. Straight down through a hole in the ground.

But the floor remained solid even as her stomach twisted into a knot, making it hard for her even to breathe.

Her chin shot up as she squared her shoulders, looking for all the world like a soldier prepared to face certain death.

“Sebastian?”

The way Brianna said his name had always made him smile. Half lecture, half prayer. That much, he thought, hadn’t changed.

But everything else had, he silently stressed. He’d gone on to make a life for himself abroad. A very good life.

If it, coincidentally, was also a solitary life, well, that had been his choice, right? Had he stayed behind or at least waited for her, instead of beginning to cut ties practically from the start, maybe life would have turned out differently.

But there was no way of really knowing just how things would have gone, and besides, he had no real regrets. He didn’t allow himself to have any. He’d chosen to leave Bedford and grow, rather than to remain here and stagnate.

“You look good,” he heard himself saying to her.

God, talk about inane lines. But his mind had gone blank. Either that, or abruptly missing in action.

But she did look good, he had to admit. Maybe even too good. He didn’t remember her figure being quite this curvy. And he was in a position to know. The last day they had been together, he’d shared the last dance at the prom with her. It had been a slow number and he’d held her to him for what had felt like an eternity.

Maybe you would have held her for far longer if you had actually remained in Bedford.

He blocked out the voice.

“You, too,” Brianna was saying.

Her mouth felt dry, as if it was incapable of sustaining or uttering a single word without her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

She cleared her throat, searching for a graceful way to end this awkward moment. A moment that shouldn’t have been awkward at all.

Sebastian had been her first love, and her first lover.

Her pulse was racing. That couldn’t be good, she thought.

“Were you just leaving?” Brianna finally managed to ask. When at a loss for words, go with the truth, she told herself.

“No.” The denial was purely automatic. Relenting just a little, he murmured, “Maybe.” But that was obviously a lie. So he finally admitted, “Yes.”

The fluctuating answer amused her a little. “I thought multiple choices were only for exams. Am I supposed to pick an answer from the above three?” she asked him.

Sebastian shook his head. He needed to go before he made a complete fool of himself.

“I was leaving,” he confirmed, nodding toward the door behind her. “For some reason, my attending this reunion seemed to mean a great deal to my mother, so I told her that I would go. But I’m really not comfortable here.” He looked around at the sea of mostly unfamiliar faces. “Being here kind of feels like putting on a sweater that used to fit but doesn’t anymore.”

“Because you’ve outgrown it.”

It wasn’t a question. She knew exactly what he was saying, because he’d described exactly the way she felt about attending this reunion.

Rather than nostalgia, what she’d heard in the various conversations she’d either taken in or overheard was the longing of former gridiron stars and ex-cheerleaders talking about the past, the scene of their glory days. For most it had been downhill after that. Hearing them talk just made her sad.

“My father made me come,” she admitted.

“Your father,” he echoed. That was right—he remembered his mother saying something about the old man’s miraculous recovery. His mother insisted the miracle came in the form of Brianna. “How is he? I heard he made a full recovery, thanks to you.”

She could feel color creeping up to her cheeks. Brianna quickly shrugged away his take on the story. “I don’t know how much I really had to do with it, but my father did recover and he’s doing just fine. Thanks for asking.”

There were a thousand things to ask—and nothing left to talk about. He needed to go before the situation grew any more awkward. “Well, tell him I said hi.”

“I will.” She reciprocated and told him, “Say hi to your mom for me.”

She’d always liked his mother a great deal, but after Sebastian had left her life, she couldn’t make herself remain in contact with the woman. Being around Barbara Hunter reminded her far too much of what she had ultimately lost.

“Will do,” he answered. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Bree.” He had no idea why he’d just said that, since he would be leaving for Japan soon.

“See you around,” she echoed with a quick nod of her head.

“Well, what do we have here? Sebastian Hunter and Brianna MacKenzie, the king and queen of prom, together again!” Tiffany Riley, the official reunion coordinator, gushed ecstatically as she came up to them.

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