I hit the unlock button on the keyless remote and open the passenger side door for her. “I am, actually.”
“Talk about a disastrous end to a fun night.” She gets into the car, smiling up at me as I’m about to shut the door for her. “I still don’t really like beer.”
“You don’t say.” My voice is sarcastic, making her laugh.
I like this, I think as I jog around the front of the car and open the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. I like that we have a past, a shared history that we can reminisce about. I don’t want to focus on our breakup, but it’s definitely fun to talk about the good times.
Maisey and I? We shared a lot of good times together.
“I didn’t throw up at my senior prom,” she tells me as I start the car.
“Who’d you go with?” I ask, my voice tight. Shit.
Clearly I need to relax.
“Jimmy Pearce.” She smiles. “We had a lot of fun.”
White hot jealousy rips through me and I’m tempted to go find stupid Jimmy Pearce and tear his heart out of his chest.
Dramatic much?
“We were just friends, though,” she continues, staring out the passenger side window as I start driving through her neighborhood, headed for the steakhouse. “His girlfriend had a track meet the same day—it was the state finals. No way could she skip out on that to go to a stupid prom.”
The relief that floods me at hearing the word girlfriend is huge. And makes me feel stupid. Why should I be jealous of her senior prom date, considering I’m the one who broke up with her in the first place?
“Did she win any events?” I ask.
“She did.” Her smile is faint and I try to concentrate on the road and not stare at her, but it’s difficult. “And she went to college on a track scholarship. Almost a full ride. You remember Kaya Owen?”
“I do.” Cute. Long legs. Smart. Fast. “So. You didn’t have a, uh, boyfriend your senior year?”
“No, I didn’t. I decided I wanted to be free my last year in school. Didn’t want anyone to tie me down.” She glances over at me, her gaze contemplative. “You have any serious girlfriends these last few years?”
“Serious? Nah.” I shake my head. “I don’t have time for anything serious.” During college, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I could get any girl I wanted, any time I wanted her. I sound like I’m bragging, but it’s true.
“I figured you’d be married by now,” she says.
“Funny, I thought the same thing about you.”
I worried about it off and on, especially the last couple of years. Maybe it’s because so many people we went to high school with started posting wedding pics on Instagram and Facebook. Or baby announcements. There’ve been a couple of divorces already, but I think that’s pretty common.
“I’ve been concentrating on building my business,” she tells me. “And there aren’t a lot of eligible bachelors here in Cunningham Falls. Most of the good ones have already been snapped up.”
“Your cakes are truly beautiful, Maise,” I tell her, hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice. I mean every word I say. I almost feel proud of her success, like I even had a hand in it, which I most definitely did not.
But still. That’s my first love, my high school sweetheart who can create such beauty. It’s pretty freaking amazing.
“Thank you.” Her voice is soft and I chance a quick glance at her to find she’s watching me. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Really?” Why should she care about my opinion? I’m just the teenage jackass who broke her heart.
She nods. “I’ve always cared about what you thought about me, even when I was mad at you. And I’ve been mad at you for a while.” We both laugh, though it dies quick. “It’s kind of weird, being here with you tonight.”
My stomach twists with nerves. “Weird in a bad way, or weird in a good way?”
“Definitely in a good way.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, exposing the tiny pearl dotting her lobe. “It’ll be nice, catching up over dinner. Don’t you think?”
“Sure,” I say distractedly as I turn onto the main street that cuts through the busy downtown.