Chapter four

The morning of the reunion gala, my bed screamed from the mess I had created just to get the perfect outfit.

"You look perfect, stop it," Angelina said, swatting my hands away from the mirror. She was already in deep blue, glowing, while I stood there in soft gold, my heart beating somewhere up in my throat.

"What if he's there?" I whispered.

"That's the whole point, isn't it?" She fixed a loose curl by my face and met my eyes in the mirror. “You want to talk it, no office, just the two of you and ten years of history." She smiled. "Breathe, Claire. Tonight you find out what happened."  That was all I wanted. I held onto those words the whole way there.

***

The gala was beautiful, held in a grand old hall with chandeliers and soft music and round tables dressed in white. The moment we walked in, familiar faces turned and lit up. "Claire Miller! No way!"

"Angelina, you haven't aged a day!"

We were swallowed into hugs and laughter, old classmates pulling us into stories half remembered. Someone brought up the time I fell asleep in chemistry and drooled on my textbook. Someone else remembered Angelina leading a protest over the cafeteria food and we all laughed.

 But the whole time, even while I laughed, my eyes never left the door. Every time it opened, my heart jumped. Every time it wasn't him, it sank. "He's not here yet," I said quietly.

Angelina followed my gaze. "He'll come. Just relax." The lights dimmed a little, and our old class president tapped a glass. "Alright, everyone, settle in! Tonight we do our favorite thing. One by one, we tell everyone where life took us. The good, the bad, the embarrassing. Who's brave enough to start?"

One by one, they stood. A doctor now. A mother of twins. A guy who opened a food truck and swore it was the best decision of his life. I clapped and smiled, but my palms were sweating, and the door still hadn't opened.

Then it did; the doors at the back swung wide, and Bernard walked in, and behind him, in his chair, came Peter. The room shifted, whispers, then warm applause as people turned to see him. Bernard wheeled him smoothly to an open space near the front. Peter wore a dark suit, perfectly cut, his face calm and still as stone. I sat up straight, my heart slamming. 

“Look at me. Just once.” He didn't. His eyes passed over the whole room and landed everywhere except on me."Claire?" Someone nudged my arm. "You're up, girl!" I stood on shaking legs. The room turned to me, all those smiling faces, and somewhere among them, Peter, still not looking.

"Um, hi, everyone." My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "After high school, I went to boarding university and studied logistics and management. It was hard, I won't lie. Long nights, a lot of coffee." A few laughs. 

I took a breath. "And now, actually, I just started as the head of consultation at Northgate Logistics." A little ripple of impressed noise went through the room. I let my eyes flick to Peter. He was staring at his own hands. "It's a dream job. I worked a long time for it." I paused, and I don't know why I said the next part. Maybe I said it for him. "And, um, I'm single. Still. Just me, my work, and my two crazy roommates."

More laughter. I sat down fast, my cheeks burning, my heart still reaching across the room toward a man who wouldn't even glance my way. A few more people spoke. Then the president turned, grinning. "Alright, we can't let him hide. Peter Stargard! Come on, man, tell us where life took you." Bernard wheeled him forward a little. Peter lifted his head, and for the first time all night his voice filled the room, steady and clear.

"Not much to tell," he said. "I studied abroad. Came back. Took over my father's company." A small, polite pause. "Life threw a few things at me."  He didn't look down at the chair, but everyone's eyes did, just for a second, and then lifted again, ashamed. "But I'm not here to talk about any of that." He let the silence stretch. I didn't understand why my stomach was twisting.

"Actually," Peter went on, and the corner of his mouth moved, not quite a smile, "I have some news. Since you're all here, you might as well be the first to hear it." The room leaned in. I leaned in too, some stupid, desperate part of me hoping for what I couldn't even say.

"I'm engaged," Peter said. The word hit me like cold water.

"Her name is Madison Quinn." He said it plainly, like he was reading a weather report. "Of the Quinn family. We'll be making it official soon." The room erupted. Gasps, then cheers, people turning to congratulate him, someone shouting, "The Quinn family? Peter, you dog!" Laughter everywhere. Light and warm and happy.

And me. I sat frozen in my gold dress, my hands cold in my lap, a smile stuck to my face that I didn't remember putting there. Engaged? Five years. five years since he first left, and I spent my whole life waiting for someone about to be married.