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EPILOGUE
TEN YEARS LATER…
SAMANTHA
“It has to be in here, right?” I whisper as Zack and I sneak into the Pacific West High School library.
Our twenty-year class reunion is in full swing. While our former classmates are busy drinking and showing off pictures of their kids, we figured no one would miss us while we settle an old score. One twenty years in the waiting.
A score for a score, if you will.
“I mean, we’ve waited long enough.”
“Don’t worry.” Zack squeezes my hand. “Dad says the new principal assured him the trophy cases are all repaired and fully stocked. Including the nerdy one in the library.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Was that the principal’s words or your dad's?”
“Who do you think?”
I roll my eyes, but can’t quite keep myself from grinning. Some things will never change. And while Mr. Strovers—who I still don’t quite feel comfortable calling dad even after nine years of marriage to Zack—has come a long way in some regards, he still has his moments of ridiculousness.
At least now instead of using his money to try to pave the way for his son—or grandchildren—now he’s just giving money to the school out of the goodness of his heart. Or so he assures us.
Besides, it’s not like it would do him much good to line any pockets now that Zack, our kids, and I are all happily settled in the Bay Area. Mr. Strovers had balked a little when Zack left his real estate firm. But I know he’s proud of everything Zack has built in his own business.
“And you won’t be mad, right?” I ask, gripping his arm with my free hand.
“Mad?” His brows knit together, making him look even sexier. Especially now that the first strands of gray are starting to work their way into the hair at his temple. “What would I be mad about?”
“When you see the evidence, once and for all, that I won Model UN our senior year.”
“Technically, I think it’s called placing first. And no. I won’t be mad when we see the results.” His lips twitch. “Especially because I know I’ll be the winner.”
“Ugh!”
We bicker back and forth a little as we continue our walk through the library, but it’s all in good fun. We may be in love and married with a family, but the two of us are who we are. It would be boring if we agreed on everything.
I’m just teasing him about the time he went into a meeting with an important investor without looking in the mirror—and ended up pitching with breast milk on his shoulder from burping our first child—when we reach the “nerd” trophy case.
Narrowing my eyes, I search the case.
Zack sighs. “Baby, I told you to bring your glasses. You’ll give yourself a headache trying to read all of those names without them.”
“I will not.” I wave off his remark. But mostly because… “I don’t see it.”
“That’s why you need your glasses. The doctor says—”
“No.” I tug on his hand and point at the case. “I don’t see the Model UN plaque.”
“No shit.” He lifts his shoulder. “What are you going to do?”
I narrow my eyes. “Why do I have the suspicion you’re behind this?”
“Are you accusing me of theft? Burglary is a steep charge, Ms. Wingfield-Strovers.”
I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable. You really didn’t want to be wrong.”
“Maybe I was trying to saveyoufrom being wrong.”
