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.
