Second Lead in My Own Love Story
At the engagement party for one of our former high school classmates, the bride suggested we play King's Cup. Whoever drew Eight had to do a cross-arm toast with someone of the opposite sex in front of everyone.
My husband, Luke Flandern, had always been a germaphobe. The second he saw the card in his hand, his brow furrowed.
I stood up, ready to help him out.
But then—Sarah Weaver, the girl everyone called the beauty of our class, who was sitting right across from him—asked softly, "Need a hand?"
Luke looked at her, and the frown on his face instantly melted.
"Yeah, sure."
The room erupted. Everyone was laughing and cheering.
"Classic Luke—always generous. No wonder he was valedictorian back in the day."
"Someone get this on camera. The golden couple from high school is finally reconnecting after all these years? That's destiny right there."
Sarah blushed and shyly reached her wine glass toward him.
Luke smiled and didn't pull away.
I just stood off to the side, quietly watching the two of them drink that cross-arm toast together.
And then I remembered how I'd been ready to help him out.
A bitter smile crossed my lips.
Guess I was kidding myself.