Incredibly gorgeouswas the understatement of the fucking millennium.
He waved an arm, indicating the entirety of her, from head to toe. “Well, yeah.”
Her lips curved, and her cheeks darkened in a pleased flush.
At the sight of her blushing in happiness because of something he’d said? His chest expanded. His spine straightened. He could’ve hefted a damn skyscraper with how strong he felt in that moment.
“Good to know.” Her cheeks might be warm, but her voice was as calm and cool as ever. “So you’d act over-the-top smitten. The entire night.”
“Yep.” Easiest thing in the world. Might as well order him to keep breathing.
She tucked a swath of hair behind one pink-tipped ear. “Ideally,we’d both have exes in attendance to torment with regret and jealousy. I won’t, but maybe some of yours will be there?”
“Janel told me Becky’s coming.” Then she’d winked at him, like he gave a shit whether his ex from over twenty years ago showed up at the reunion. “Might be others too. Don’t know, don’t care.”
He’d lived in Harlot’s Bay his whole life. Limited pool of options. So yeah, he’d dated women in their class who’d stayed local. A few would probably show up to the reunion. If he was with Molly, though? He might not even notice ’em. Probably not the nicest thing to say, but it was the honest damn truth.
He met Molly’s gaze. “Well? What do you think?”
Her mouth opened, then closed again.
“You didn’t go to prom,” he pointed out, in his best wheedling tone. “Time to rectify that shit the most awesome way possible.”
And after such an incredible night? She’d never want to leave Harlot’s Bay again, guaran-fucking-teed. Which was what turned his plan from great to genius-level, if he did say so himself, and he damn welldid.
She gulped back the last of her coffee, then plonked her mug on the table and eyed him askance. “I already know I’m going to regret this bizarro plan.”
“That mean you’re gonna do it?”
She exhaled gustily, slumping in her chair. “I suppose.”
“Hell, yeah!” he shouted, then got out his phone and got to work.
22
That afternoon, Karl mounted the block outside the tuxedo rental place’s dressing room and modeled yet another penguin suit for Matthew and Athena.
After receiving his texted demand for reunion prep assistance, the couple had agreed to “provide extremely necessary social-event guidance to the man voted most likely to firebomb an etiquette school,” as Athena had annoyingly put it. Next thing he knew, they were tearing him from Molly’s side, hauling him downtown, carting endless tuxes to his dressing room, and strangling him with bow ties.
Probably what he deserved for voluntarily texting someone. Should’ve known better.
He scowled at them both. But when Athena gave the finger-swirl signal, he obediently made a quarter turn. She tugged at the hem of his deep-navy jacket, straightening it, then had him turn again.
“According to the last reunion update, the theme for the night is ‘Under the Sea,’” Matthew volunteered. “In case that helps with your flower selection. You might want to choose something marine-life-themed.”
How was that even possible? Did the florist just staple a fucking eel to the arrangement and call it a day?
Fancy-people shit mystified him. Always had, apparently always would. Which was why he’d requested backup today, despite his numerous subsequent regrets.
“Decision time, assholes.” He planted his feet on the block. “This design? Or the black tux with the stupid cummerbund?”
“This design,” Matthew and Athena said in unison.
“You heard ’em,” he told the hovering sales assistant, and that was that. One errand down, two more to go.
After he paid and laid his plastic-covered tux in the back seat of his car, the three of them walked down the cobblestone sidewalk to Fishwife Floral. Matthew immediately claimed Athena’s hand, and she jauntily swung their arms between them.
After a few steps, she slowed. “Listen, Special K, I was thinking...”
