by Grace Palmer
Holly couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a compliment or not, but she had to agree. Their prom theme had been “Big City Lights,” which had mostly involved cardboard cutouts of building silhouettes and too many string lights to count.
Still, Holly had found it all magical. She and Pete had danced together all night, barely acknowledging anyone else. That night, the last high school dance she’d ever attended, had felt like the beginning of the rest of her life.
Tonight, however, felt more like an interrogation. What have you done with your life, huh? You’re back where it all started, but how far did you make it?
Holly tugged on some bunched-up fabric on her upper thigh.
“Will you stop fidgeting?” Lindsay said, nudging Holly in the arm and then standing tall, her shoulders back, chin lifted. “You look amazing.”
“I think this is too small,” Holly said for the third time. “It keeps riding up my thighs.”
“It’s ruching. It’s supposed to gather like that,” Diana scolded. “We all look great. Embrace it.”
Easy for them to say. They’d both opted for midi dresses that hit their svelte frames mid-calf. Diana’s had a low-V neckline and Lindsay’s had a high slit, but both of them looked more covered than Holly did. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown off her knees and her collarbones at the same time.
Goodness, maybe she did dress like a middle-aged mom.
After a quick survey of their surroundings, Lindsay and Diana waltzed into the room, Holly following clumsily behind them.
Another off-comment Emily had made about Holly’s “wide feet” and her recommendation that maybe she should try flats had sent Holly reaching for the tallest pair of heels Aqua Boutique had in stock. Now, she felt like she had a bird’s eye view of the reunion. She also felt that everyone was staring at her towering over the crowd.
They stopped at the refreshment table, grabbing cups of punch from a server in a black vest and bow tie. Holly took a sip and was relieved when it just tasted like punch. Alcohol was the last thing this situation needed.
“Oh, there’s the cash bar,” Lindsay said, pointing to the other side of the gym. “I’ll be back.”
Just as she did in high school, Lindsay carved a straight path through the crowd of their peers, and people simply moved out of her way. She was a force of nature, Holly thought. She always had been.
“Georgia!” Diana cried, making Holly jump. Punch spilled over the side of her plastic cup, nearly missing her dress.
Sure enough, Georgia Tomlin was standing over by the DJ table. She wore a sparkly silver dress that, when combined with her very significant baby bump, made her look an awful lot like the disco ball overhead.
“I didn’t even know she was pregnant,” Diana hissed as an aside to Holly. “We have got to go find out who the baby daddy is.”
Diana dropped her half-full punch cup in the trash can and grabbed Holly’s arm, nearly yanking it out of the socket as she pulled her across the room.
Holly didn’t particularly want to gossip about the paternity of the baby she hadn’t known Georgia was having. Really, she wished Pete was here. She wished this could be just like prom, where they spent the night talking and ignoring everyone else. But that wasn’t an option, and Holly didn’t want to be the loser standing alone at the punch table. So she gave let herself be towed along for the ride.
Diana skidded to a halt in front of Georgia and threw her arms wide. “Girl, oh my God!”
Georgia mimicked Diana’s pose and squealed, “I know! Oh my God! Hi!”
There was hugging, though Georgia’s protruding stomach made it slightly awkward, and then the two women held hands as they caught up. They waxed on about how long it had been and how much they had to catch up on, ignoring Holly entirely. Which suited her just fine.
“…I haven’t told anyone about the baby,” Georgia explained. “Please don’t be mad. I just wanted it to be a surprise for the reunion.”
Diana laughed. “It’s certainly a surprise. I didn’t even realize you were dating anyone.”
Georgia winced. “I’m not, really.”
“Oh?” Diana raised her brows. “Intrigue.”
“Hardly,” Georgia laughed. “Once I finally cut myself loose from Scott, I decided I didn’t need a man. I went with a sperm donor.”
“That seems to be the common reaction women have after dating Scott.” Both women laughed and then Diana clapped her hands. “But good for you. You’re a real estate agent, right? The market is hot right now. You definitely don’t need a man.”
“Exactly. Though I’m sure you can’t relate. What with your tech genius billionaire husband and all.” Georgia turned to Holly with a wink. “Holly gets it, though.”
Diana started to respond, saying something about the galleries where her ceramics were on display, but Holly stepped forward and interrupted. “I’m sorry, what do I get?”
“That we don’t need men!” Georgia chirped, smiling broadly. “You and Pete were so hot and heavy in high school that I didn’t think you’d ever shake him off. But here you are! Single and ready to mingle. Better without that dead weight.”
Holly and Diana looked at each other, both awestruck. Diana was the first to find her voice. “Holly and Pete are still married,” she explained, curling her lips in to hide an awkward smile. “They have two kids. He’s just out of town.”
Georgia slapped both hands over her mouth, her next words coming out mumbled between her fingers. “I’m so sorry. People were talking about you being out for brunch with Andre Wellington, and then you showed up alone without your wedding ring on, and I—”
Holly’s attention snapped down to her hand. She’d forgotten her wedding ring. Not once in all the years they’d been married had Holly ever forgotten to grab her wedding ring out of the white ceramic dish next to her bed. But today of all days, she’d forgotten. Probably because her epic hangover had made it hard for her to even stand.
That explained Andre thinking she was unmarried.
Holly ran her thumb over the bare spot on her left ring finger. “I forgot it this morning.”
“My mistake,” Georgia said, holding up her hands in surrender and shaking her head. “Pete isn’t dead weight. I was just teasing. I—”
“It’s fine.” Holly smiled and shook her head. “Really, don’t worry about it.”
The conversation was stilted after that. Georgia asked Holly stiff questions about her life and kids, and Holly answered politely before excusing herself to use the restroom. There was no reason for her to stand there and make Georgia uncomfortable when she didn’t even want to be there in the first place.
Holly pressed onto her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for Lindsay. Last Holly knew, she’d been at the bar, but now Lindsay was standing in the center of a small circle of men near the entrance. A circle that included Caleb Mendoza. And maybe the dim lighting was obscuring her vision, but Holly thought she could see Lindsay making eyes at him.
Had Lindsay really sworn off men? Holly suspected they’d know the answer to that by the end of the night.
“A queen surveying her land?”
Holly recognized the deep voice immediately. She turned to see Andre Wellington, punch in hand, standing next to her. He had on a pair of dark dress pants with a long-sleeve button-down tucked in. The warm leather of his belt emphasized the way his waist tapered in.
“More like a loser trying to find where she belongs,” Holly joked. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but our class president, Jamie Walker, was the prom queen, not me.”
“And rumor has it, she stuffed that ballot box, too,” Andre whispered.
“Apparently, everyone knew about that scandal but me!”
“You were above that kind of petty gossip,” he said. “It was admirable. Still is.”
Holly felt her face flush and wondered if there wasn’t a bit of alcohol in the punch, after all. “I don’t know that I was above it, so much as that I wasn’t included in it.”
Andre stepped closer as the generic placeholder music the DJ had been playing shifted to a song Holly actually recognized, the volume increasing significantly.
“You certainly had a choice to be included. You could have been if you’d wanted to,” he said. “But you chose Pete.”
Holly looked over and was surprised to see Andre looking back. His brown eyes sparkled in the reflected light from the disco ball. Holly blinked, her chest tightening strangely, and then turned away quickly.
“You and I have very different interpretations of that time period, then,” she said. “I think your version is kinder to me.”
“I suppose there are multiple interpretations possible in every situation,” he said, setting his cup down on a nearby table before pivoting to stand in front of Holly. Andre bent at the waist, hand extended. “For instance, one could interpret you standing here alone as a sign that you want to be left alone. But I choose to interpret it as you waiting for a good enough reason to get involved.”
Holly looked at his hand and raised her brows. “Are you asking me to dance?”
His full lips tipped into a smirk. “That is one interpretation, yes. But if you’re going to refuse me, then no, I’m not asking. I’m just… uh, stretching.”
Holly laughed and shook her head. “I’d hate to embarrass you. So, sure, I’ll dance.”
She took his hand and Andre tucked hers into the crook of his arm. “Very merciful of you.”
Holly let him lead her out onto the dance floor, certain he was doing her a favor more than the other way around.
But for the first time in her entire life, as she walked through the crowd of the reunion, Holly didn’t mind that everyone was staring at her.
“I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend until she came to stay with me for a weekend and I saw their picture set as the home screen on her phone,” Andre was saying.
“Her mom didn’t tell you?” Holly asked.
“She didn’t know, either!” Andre shook his head. He was adorably worked up about his daughter having her first boyfriend and Holly found it endearing. “When I asked her about the picture, Orah accused me of snooping on her, and I reminded her that I pay for the phone. It didn’t go well.”
“Those kinds of conversations rarely do.”
“Is your son already moving into the dreaded pre-teen zone, too?” Andre asked, adjusting his hand higher on her ribs.
They’d been dancing for two songs now. The first had been an upbeat pop song that they’d awkwardly bobbed around to, but now the song had slowed. Andre had good dancing form, but he made sure to keep a respectable amount of space between their bodies. That way, no one could misinterpret what this was. Just two old friends catching up.
“Not as far as dating goes,” Holly said. “I feel like I should find some wood to knock on because I’m not at all ready for that.”
Andre laughed. “You’ll never be ready. Trust me.”
“My parents weren’t ready. When I got my first boyfriend, my dad made us have our first date at the dining room table while he stood in the kitchen and watched.” Holly laughed at the memory of Henry Benson sipping on a cup of coffee, eyes narrowed over the top of the mug. “Danny Musak broke up with me as soon as it was over.”
“Dumb kid. All good things are worth a little trial and tribulation.” Andre winked and then twirled Holly once just as the song finished.
She was having a nice time dancing with him, but two songs in a row was probably a good place to call it quits. If Georgia had been right and people were gossiping about Holly and Andre having brunch together, then there was no need to add fuel to the fire.
Plus, Holly’s insides felt strangely buzzy. Probably just the punch on an empty stomach. She needed to hit up the snack table.
But before she could excuse herself, a small crowd gathered around Andre, trapping Holly in.
“Andre. The man!” Caleb Mendoza was beaming, his teeth as bright as the spotlights above the DJ booth. When Holly saw who was standing next to him, it wasn’t hard to see why.
Caleb had his arm around Lindsay’s waist. When Lindsay looked over, Holly wagged her brows dramatically. She hadn’t sworn off all men, it seemed.
Andre tipped his head to Caleb and then turned to Lindsay. “Good to see you again.”
The googly eyes Lindsay had been making at Andre that morning were gone. Now, she gave him an easy, friendly smile. “You, too.” As soon as Andre looked away, Lindsay locked eyes with Holly and wagged her brows right back.
If Holly had been wearing her wedding ring, she would have flashed it at Lindsay as a reminder. She was taken and not at all interested in a high school reunion fling. No matter how nice Andre was being, Holly knew he wasn’t interested, either.
“A few people were just talking about an after-party,” Caleb said. “And I mentioned your yacht.”
Holly snapped her attention away from Lindsay to focus on Andre. “Yacht?”
“It’s not as fancy as it sounds,” he said quickly.
Caleb snorted. “Yes, it is. Which is why I suggested it as a place to hang out. Either that or your beach house.”
Holly felt her eyes widen for a second, but tried to hide her surprise. It wasn’t polite to be awestruck by someone else’s wealth. But Andre had seemed so… normal. When they’d been talking about their kids, Holly imagined the two of them were on the same level. Both at the beck and call of a little rug rat or two, making sacrifices for their benefit. After all, Andre had moved all the way across the country just to be closer to Orah.
But maybe that was less of a sacrifice and more of an upgrade. Really, it seemed like Andre would have more in common with Diana and her fabulous life than with Holly.
“I thought you lived in Portland?” Lindsay asked.
“I do,” Andre explained. “But I come back here every summer and bring Orah to visit my parents, so it seemed worthwhile to have a second property. I rent it out to vacationers throughout the year.”
Lindsay whistled. “You really undersold yourself this morning at brunch. You’re a tycoon.”
Andre ran a hand over the back of his neck, lips pursed as he shook his head. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“You should be proud,” Holly interjected. “It sounds like you’ve worked hard to get to where you are.”
Andre stared at her for a second, his smile quirking up on one side for a moment before the other side joined in, splitting his face wide with a grin. “Thanks, Holly.”
Caleb stepped forward, interrupting the moment. “Well, what do you think? Yacht or beach house?”
“The yacht isn’t ready for guests,” Andre said, not taking his eyes off of Holly. She felt nervous being the center of anyone’s attention and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “But I’ll text you the code to the front door of the house.”
“Yes!” Caleb crowed. “Thanks, man.”
Then, in an instant, Caleb grabbed Lindsay’s hand and twirled her into a dance. Lindsay looked over his shoulder at Holly with an exasperated smile, but Holly could tell her friend was enjoying the attention. Who wouldn’t?
After watching Lindsay for a second, Holly realized she and Andre were still on the dance floor. Not dancing. Or talking. Just… hovering.
When she looked up, Andre was watching her. His smile had dimmed slightly, and he ran a hand over his jawline, shaking his head. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?”
He swirled his hand in the air. “The yacht and the house and… I don’t usually lead with that. It gives people the wrong idea.”
“What? That you’re wildly successful?” Holly teased.
He laughed. “Something like that. It can make people uncomfortable. They assume I’m a snob or—I don’t know. It’s dumb.”
Holly reached out and gripped his elbow. “No, it’s not. Believe me. I worry about the same thing.”
“About people thinking you’re a snob?”
“No. The opposite, actually.”<
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“Down-to-earth?”
Holly laughed and dropped her hand to her side. “I just worry what they’ll think, period. Especially about the fact that I don’t work. I became a stay-at-home mom with two kids. That maybe they’ll assume I’m not ambitious or driven or interesting.”
“If anyone thinks you aren’t interesting, it’s because they haven’t spent any time with you,” he said. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.”
Warmth flooded Holly’s chest, washing away her anxieties about the evening. “A lot of it is probably me projecting. I loved being home with my kids when they were little, but now that they are older, I’m ready to get back into the work force and try… something. But there isn’t really space for me anymore.”
Andre’s brows knit together. “What does that mean?”
Holly held her arms out wide, as if looking at her explained everything. “I’ve been out of commission for years. My last job was as a teller at a bank. I don’t exactly have many marketable skills.”
Andre opened his mouth, but at that exact second, the DJ grabbed the microphone and demanded everyone on the dance floor throw their hands in the air. Andre wrapped his hand around Holly’s wrist and pulled her over towards the refreshment table.
“Nonsense,” he said as though they hadn’t been interrupted. “Being a stay-at-home mom with two kids requires being adept at scheduling, organizing events, communicating with teachers and doctors, attention to detail—so many marketable skills.”
If anyone else had said that, Holly would have assumed they were pandering. But when Andre said it, it made sense.
Holly kept a very in-depth calendar on the side of the fridge, she’d arranged more play dates and birthday parties than she could count, and Pete often asked Holly to make the calls to schedule house maintenance or order food because he said she was “better at it.” Was it possible she was underselling herself?
“I, for one, would be happy to welcome someone like you into my company,” Andre continued.
Holly flushed. “Thank you. That’s really nice. Probably too nice.”
“No, I’m serious,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. His fingers were warm. “You would be an asset. Actually, I have an administrative assistant positioning opening up soon. The person currently in the position is being promoted to office manager.”
