Page 60 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

I’m not sure if she’s grumpy from the long plane ride or if she’s really just watched Mean Girls one time too many, but I’ve known her less than a day and I’m already over how every single comment has such bite.

“To the incoming CEO of the Huang-Lai Fund,” Brody supplies, with a smirk in Khloe’s direction, as if knowing this is the piece of information that will make Khloe take notice.

Her disbelief is palpable, and unfortunately for me, not the least bit satisfying. “Tatum Huang? The Olympic swimmer and hedge fund heir?”

It’s Lucas who confirms it for me, as I struggle to get my breathing under control. “For almost five years.”

There’s no point in correcting Lucas. But in actuality? It was exactly five years. That part of the contract had been fully met, something Tatum and I both agreed would be the path of least resistance. Neither of us wanted to marry. Neither of us had the strength to fight our parents directly.

So we ran out the clock.

Made all the appropriate appearances for the first four years before letting things seemingly fizzle in the fifth, to better develop the narrative that we’d drifted apart.

From the rearview mirror I can see Khloe sizing me up, trying to figure out how someone like me, a fifth-year graduate student with spray-painted hair and a scratched-up one-piece suitcase, ended up engaged to Tatum Huang.

No need to explain that there had been a time when everyone took for granted that the daughter of Beinan Zhao and the heir to Huang-Lai were a match made in heaven.

“Tatum hasn’t dated since.” Lucas’s tone is cold as he says this, and I can’t tell what, exactly, he’s implying.

“Not publicly,” I confirm.

“You’ve kept in touch, then? Was it amicable?” Khloe is clearly trying (and thoroughly failing) to hide her disbelief.

“We’re still friendly.” Tatum and I won’t ever be close, but I know exactly why he hasn’t been photographed moving on.

Before Khloe can press the issue, we pull into the Four Seasons’ porte cochere where the level of attention and service is almost laughable. Multiple porters greet us. One takes Brody’s keys, another immediately begins unloading our luggage, there’s actually a guy playing a ukulele, and two more attendants arrive to offer us leis and platters of chocolate, a veritable buffet of options. Old Lucas would have been wide-eyed. This Lucas? He waves it away with a polite smile and a brief murmur of thanks.

I adjust the lei, thinking Wren and Harper would love something like this, before picking up a piece of chilled pineapple dipped in chocolate.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” Brody’s slung an arm around me, squeezing me toward him, and perhaps because I’ve been too distracted tracking Lucas (and Lucas in relation to Khloe), this is the first time I really look at my best friend of eight years.

“I’m glad I came.” It’s only a partial lie. It has been too long since I’ve seen Brody, and now that I’m up close, I can’t help but notice that though tanned, Brody looks a little less . . . healthy? Less vibrant?

Faded, maybe.

Though that doesn’t sound quite right either.

Brody peers down at me through his long lashes, his brown eyes crinkling as if hearing my unasked question. “I’m thrilled you and Lucas both made it.” His voice is earnest, almost apologetic.

“You could have warned me we’d be on the same flight.”

“Custody battles are always brutal, Red. Don’t make me choose sides.”

Brody gives my shoulder one last squeeze before jumping back into host mode, telling Khloe she’s in the suite next to the one he shares with Vi. We split into two groups at the elevator—Khloe is on the other side of the hotel with Brody and Vi, Lucas and I are apparently in the same wing.

Khloe rests a hand on Lucas’s arm again, a faint pout decorating her face, her makeup somehow still photo-perfect after a six-hour flight. I pull at my pajama bottoms, wishing I’d worn something a little classier.

“We have to catch up later.” Khloe blinks up at Lucas, all pout.

“Extreme snorkeling,” Lucas says shortly. Not encouraging her but . . . also not making any effort to remove her hand.

She rises onto tiptoes to kiss his cheek, leaving a faint smear of lipstick while Brody rolls his eyes. “Wrong tree.”

Khloe glances over, flicking her blonde hair so violently it brushes past my face.

“Barking. You. Up the.” Their relationship is clearly more adversarial than not, but at least some of the spark has come back into Brody’s face.

“I can’t believe my sister is marrying you.”