Page 2 of Sugar & Shadows

That conclusion, unfortunately, was smashed to smithereens when the hostess spoke again.

“Mayor Gabe,” she said, her ponytail bouncing. “Your date is here.”

The man turned—those really were some excellent shoulders—and my stomach dropped.

Gabriel. Motherfucking. Harding.

Bile rose in the back of my throat.

This man was the bane of my existence. Had been for most of my life.

Since fourth grade when he won the spelling bee after he was asked to spell “environment” while I was tasked with “bourgeoisie.” The hatred only grew in middle school where I was the scrawny nerd who was tortured by mean girls while teachers ruffled his hair affectionately and the town collective promoted him to official golden boy. It continued all the way through high school, when he beat me for valedictorian because I got mono and got an A-minus on one physics test.

One.

Single.

A-minus.

A statistical anomaly that still kept me up at night.

He was the embodiment of everything I despised. Privilege wrapped in effortless charm. The kind of man who only had to smile, and doors opened for him. Who’d never had to claw his way into a room. Who’d never understand what it was like to wake up every morning and fight to be taken seriously.

The man had stood, and he was staring at me with a look of confusion on his face.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Are you Bree?” he responded, his tone polite but full of bafflement.

A shot of irritation hit me again. That name. “No. Are you Edward?”

He shook his head.

The sweet-looking hostess looked between us awkwardly, then slowly slunk away.

“Sorry. I’m meeting someone. A blind date,” he said, his voice barely audible over the music. “My mom set me up.” He sighed. “It’s embarrassing, I know, but I didn’t have the heart to let her down.”

The wheels in my head ground to a screeching halt.

“Your mom set you up?”

“Yes.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “My mom sent me here. To meet a blind date. A guy named Edward.”

“Oh.” The bewilderment on his face melted away and recognition dawned. “My middle name is Edward.”

“Motherfucker.” I hissed. I hadn’t checked recently, but I was almost certain matricide was illegal in the state of Vermont.

Gabe Harding continued staring at me.

Not with horror.

Not with recognition.

With fucking polite confusion.

Because the asshole had no idea who I was.