❝ꪜ𝒊𝐨ŀꪋ❞

It was nice of them to put the heaters on in full blast. I could see through the plastic siding that there was a group of hardy smokers clustered outside and I couldn't help but wonder if they were the same people who used to hide behind the sports block back in school.

I bit my lip when the instinct to explain my theories on smoking was about to spill out. I didn’t think Sinclair would want to hear that right now.

“I’ll get you a drink. What would you like?” he asked.

I was so determined not to let my mouth run away with him that I didn’t give my usual explanation of how I tried to avoid wine because it made my head spin. Sinclair didn’t need to know that either.

I should probably act cool, right?

“Surprise me.”

Sinclair raised an eyebrow as if that very concept worried him.

“I don’t want to get you the wrong thing, Vie. After all, if you read the small print you would have seen that I’m a thoughtful boyfriend.”

“Wait. I didn’t sign a contract. Should I have signed a contract? Am I liable for anything? Shit, I should have got Mars to check the small print. I’m an idiot.”

Sinclair placed a hand on my forearm to stop me.

“No, no. There wasn’t really a contract with small print. This is off the books, right? You understand that you’re not liable for anything.”

“But, in reality, what if there’s an accident?”

“You mean if the disco ball falls on our heads?”

I peered past Sinclair but couldn’t see the disco ball from here.

“Did you notice it was loose? I’ve seen that happen in movies. People were killed by falling disco balls. Particularly, if there’s an earthquake.”

“I didn’t order an earthquake tonight, that’s only included as part of our disaster package,” Sin deadpanned. “So, there will not be an earthquake, the disco ball won’t fall on top of anyone, and I’m never going to get you a drink that you haven’t specifically chosen. That’s all in the unofficial small print.”

“You have a disaster package?” I blinked at him, feeling as if he had just made a really cool joke, and wondering if it might be appropriate for me to laugh.

And if so, what kind of laugh? Is this a chuckle situation, or maybe a belly laugh?

I knew Sinclair was trying to take my mind off what we were here to do, but I didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, all I felt was a strange pull to run screaming in the opposite direction of whatever version of Hell this reunion was.

“It’s extra if you want an upside-down ship.”

“A what now?”

“Like the Titanic.”

“Call me crazy but... I haven’t seen that one.”

“Wait what?” Sinclair chuckled.

I pursed my lips.

“Giant ship... iceberg?”

I shook my head Sinclair made a throaty sound and shook his head.

“Can I get a Coke?” I asked, trying to salvage what was left of the conversation.

“Is that a question or an order,” Sinclair teased, and underscored it by adding an encouraging smile.

“Oh, sorry. It’s an order. But maybe the real Coke, not diet please, if that’s okay.”

“Good choice. Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”

And Sinclair even pressed a kiss to my hair and side-hugged me. The sort of simple PDA that would make anybody watching think we were together.

Wow, he's very good at his job, it seems.

Also, true to his word, he was there and back at the table in three minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He placed the drinks on the table, then tucked a blanket around my knees before taking a seat opposite me. The Coca-Cola slipped down a treat, and before I knew it, the glass was empty.

Wow, that went fast. Maybe it was a small one?

“I’m guessing you don’t want to stay out here all night,” Sin asked, nursing his sparkling water and half smiling as he waited for an answer.

When in reality, all I wanted to do was sit out here, with Sin, a steady supply of Coca-Cola, and maybe some nibbles. Those metaphorical doors of mine might well stay open, but at least I wouldn’t have any messy confrontations with specters from my past.

I was cozy under the blanket, my face toasty warm, and I had one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen sitting in front of me. Part of me didn’t want this to end. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was a coward, or whether I felt at peace for the first time since I’d received the invite and Marcelina had persuaded me I needed to attend.

“I want to stay right here. With you. But that would defeat the object of being here.”

“True, and there’s music back in there, and a cocktail bar where you can learn how to make your own cocktails. We could have a dance, make a cocktail, see if anybody steps through your open doors?”

I ignored the doors part of that sentence.

“I can dance... at least I think I can. In that, I know how it works. I’m just not sure I’m sexy enough to have anything more than a shuffle around the floor. I can’t do any dipping or anything like that. No jumps.”

Sinclair nodded in all seriousness.

“Well... there goes my Dirty Dancing idea.”

I knew that was a joke, and I chuckled.

“I’ve never seen that one either, but I understand the cultural reference, so yeah, that makes it funny.”

I knew I didn’t need to say that. No one really wanted to hear explanations of why I thought things were funny. I was supposed to laugh and join in.

Never mind.

I had the rest of the evening to appear completely normal.

“It’s my mom’s favorite movie, she used to be a dancer, way back before...”

“Before what?”

“Oh, before nothing. Sorry, I got distracted.”

But I thought Sin seemed anything but distracted. Instead, he looked kind of melancholy. But then he seemed to shake it off and forge ahead.

“Anyway, back to tonight. What door do we tackle first?”

I wished I could identify any incident, let alone the one that was going to fix me as Mars said it would. My friend was adamant there was this nebulous thing in my past I’d hidden from even myself. The kind of thing that was keeping me unhappy and may be responsible for me searching for a relationship with the wrong men.

But for the life of me, I can’t think what it could be.

When I realized Sinclair was talking to me, the heat made my cheeks burn.

Stay in the present, idiot.

“... we go make a cocktail,” Sin suggested and was smiling again.

God, he has such a beautiful smile.

Poets could probably wax lyrical about his amber eyes, and the way his long lashes feathered around them. But all I could think was that Sinclair Bergman was a very handsome man. Also, that maybe, one day I would meet someone who smiled at me like Sin.

“Sounds like a plan,” I murmured after a pause, during which Sin stared at me with a curious expression.

He stood and extended a hand to me, but right at the moment that I was going to lace our fingers and never let go, we were interrupted.

“Oh my gosh!” Someone yelled next to me, and I stilled as somebody tall, dark, and probably eaten like a bird, yanked me out of my chair, and hugged me close. “Specky! Oh girly! I’m so pleased you’re here!”

Girly?

I eased myself away until there was a good three feet of distance. At first, I didn’t recognize the person who’d hugged me. I mean, gorgeous, tall, friendly, and smiling? The woman looked nothing like anyone I remembered from school.

Fuck. Is this my open door?

“How have you been? Have you saved the world yet?” The gorgeous woman turned to Sinclair and offered a hand. “Anastasia Corelly. But I go by Sia. I was in Vie’s geography class. On a scholarship the same as her.”

Sin and Sia exchanged pleasantries while I watched in shock.

This was the Sia with the unfortunate facial afflictions?

She’d been a nice girl. We’d been friends, and she’d been an outcast the same as I was. Now though, her unfortunate face thing had cleared up, her teeth were straight and white, her ears didn’t stick out anymore, and she was as thin as a rake. She’d lost all that weight. And could be a model with her height and everything. Whereas I remained a full-time member of the socially awkward club.

Go figure.

“Sia” I confirmed when she and Sin were done with their nice-to-meet-yous. “It’s so good to see you.”

It was great to see her, because it was proof positive I had memories of school that were good. Memories of laughing with Sia that could move front and center in my thoughts, forcing to one side formulas, chemical reactions, and my unfortunate appreciation of my pretend date.

“I can’t call you Specky anymore” Sia waved in front of my face. “Contacts?”

Oh, a subject I can talk about.

“Yeah, I had astigmatism. That was an irregular curve in the lens or cornea of my eye, and it caused the shape to change from a circular to an oval shape. I never even realized I had it, but I went for tests, and they said I couldn’t wear soft lenses, well not for this condition, so I have rigid gas-permeable lenses, which provide good eye hydration, and what I mean by that is that the lenses supply the eyes with one hundred percent of the oxygen they need.”

Everything spilled out in one uncoordinated mess of information, but if Anastasia seemed fazed by it all, she didn’t show it. If anything, it just made her smile harder.

“Same old Viola. You know, I learned so much from you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Do you remember when we used to sit at the same table for lunch? Us against the world. Well, we both grew up well, so that’ll show them!” She gestured at her face. “Braces got through puberty, worked out, I’m a part-time model and a full-time professional photographer. My photos are in all kinds of glossy magazines.”

“Like Nat Geo?”

“Yeah, you see that Snow Leopard spread last year around October?”

“Oh my goodness! That was you?”

“One of my proudest moments. My husband and I work together, but that was our actual honeymoon, so I got good photos from it, and the Nat Geo spread was just the icing on the cake.”

“Your husband?”

Sia smiled.

“Remember Ben? Well, we met again in college.” Then, she poked me in the arm. “But it was a good job that after high school we didn’t see you after that serious crush he had on you.”

Wait what?

Sia smiled again.

“I’m joking... but not about the crush. Ben was secretly a fan of brainy Viola Cahill. But it's in the past now. He’s the other half of me, and I couldn’t be happier. Maybe, we could get together one day and double date? He’s a math professor now... reason why he couldn't make it this time around. But he's all kinds of clever like you, now.”

A double date?

Didn’t a double date rely on me having a date to bring? I wasn’t sure I could afford Sinclair again. But as if Sin knew I was floundering, he stepped in.

“Sounds good. You should message Vie, and we’ll arrange it.”

I knew that was just a line I was using, but my chest tightened at the thought of the potential date with a man as sexy and confident as Sinclair.

One day.

“Anyway, can I take your photo for the event’s coffee table book?”

That was when I noticed the camera in Sia’s hand. Sinclair took a step back—to give Sia space, I guess. And I  felt lost for a moment, wishing I could drag Sinclair close and hold his hand again.

“Okay,” I agreed.

Sia held up her camera, fiddled with a button, and then suggested that I smile with an enthusiastic shout of cheese.

But I never even got to explain why saying cheese wouldn’t take a good photo, because the camera flashed, and my wide-eyed surprise was captured for eternity.

Sia side-hugged me.

“Let’s take another one, just for old times’ sake.”

Do we have to?

After two more photos, it seemed Sia deemed she had enough.

“The organizers of the event hired me to take photographs, and when I say hired, I mean they suggested that, as I was attending the reunion, maybe I’d like to take some informal snaps of people. Their words, not mine” she laughed, and Sinclair joined in.

So I smiled, and it seemed to be enough.

“Anyway, I’ll tag you in the socials, but I need to get going. Maybe once I’ve taken everybody’s photo, we could sit and have a chat?”

Sia appeared to like me, appeared to want to talk to me, and actually, it was nice.

“Of course. I’d love to.”

“We’d love to,” Sinclair interjected, side-hugged me and pressed yet another kiss to my hair.

He was doing his job by staking a claim in front of someone from my past, making it seem as if I had my life figured out. It seemed to work. Sia fist-bumped me and shook hands with Sinclair, and then, disappeared back into the main function room.

“Is that her?” Sinclair asked as soon as the coast was clear, his tone full of worry.

“Her, who?”

“Is Sia an open door? A situation to be resolved? Something that needs to be fixed?”

“No.” A flood of memories wrapped around my heart. “Sia is an old friend. Someone I should have kept in touch with.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Come on then.”

Sin laced our fingers and tugged me in the same direction as Sia had disappeared, over to the cocktail bar that seemed to have steady business.

I wished I could be like Anastasia one day. When all my doors shut.