Some Sort of Happy (Skylar and Sebastian): A Happy Crazy Love Novel (23 page)

“We did. He doesn’t want to go.” I finished with the counters and moved on to the oven, which I hadn’t even used that much because I really didn’t cook. Yet another adult skill I lacked.

“Oh. What about Dani and Kristen?”

“They couldn’t make it in. Dani’s due in like two weeks, and Kristen’s in-laws were visiting or something.”

“Are you going alone, then?”

“I guess.”

She stopped what she was doing and came over to the kitchen. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”

“I’m not.”

“So why go at all?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t.”

“Skylar.”

I finally turned and looked at her.

“What’s with you?” Her brow furrowed. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Exhaling, I leaned back against the oven. “I’m just trying to figure out some stuff and it’s stressing me out. I’m not much looking forward to the reunion because I’m embarrassed about being on Save a Horse and the whole dethroning thing, but I haven’t done anything else worth talking about.”

“You’ve done a lot of things!” She threw up one hand. “You’ve traveled, lived in New York City, been on television…how many people can say that?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like much compared to what I
said
I was going to do.” I threw the rag onto the counter. “Or compared to what Nat and Jilly have done. I just feel like an asshole, OK? That’s what’s with me.”

“Skylar Elizabeth Nixon, you listen to me,” she said so forcefully I had to meet her eye. “I did not raise any assholes, and more importantly, I did not raise my girl to talk that way about herself. So you went to New York to chase a dream and it didn’t happen, so what. You know what I always say about failure.”

“It builds character,” I mumbled.

“That’s right. Failure builds character, and character is what you need right now. Character and confidence. This is no big thing! You think you’re the first small-town girl with stars in her eyes that got disillusioned with the reality of trying to make it in that world?”

“No,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Of course you don’t, because you’re not stupid. Now, your entire life everyone’s been telling you what a special snowflake you are—but the truth is, you’re just like the rest of us, honey. That means sometimes you’re gonna get what you want, sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you’re gonna get it only to find out it’s not what you thought it was gonna be. It’s all part of the journey. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, even though part of me was like,
What do you mean I’m not a special snowflake?
Was your mother supposed to say this stuff to you?

“Good. You can walk into that reunion tonight and be proud of who you are, Skylar. You’re a beautiful girl with a great big heart and a lot of potential. Good Lord, if we all had the answers by age twenty-seven, life would be pretty boring, don’t you think?”

I curled my upper lip. “I hate boring.”

She laughed, coming around the counter to give me a hug. I let her, wrapping my arms around her plushy middle and taking comfort in her pie-crust-and-Windex scent. “You always have. Go have fun tonight. You can think about life’s opportunities tomorrow.”

• • •

The reunion was being held at The Corner Loft downtown. I got ready in my old bedroom, feeling a little like I was leaving for the Prom, only without a date. In the spirit of being more responsible, I’d decided to take back the outfit I’d purchased to wear to the reunion and wear something I already owned—a fitted LBD with cap sleeves that hit me about mid-thigh. It was a little more conservative than I usually dressed for parties, but I wasn’t feeling all that festive. For me it was all about the shoes anyway, and I wore black strappy Louboutin heels with a satin bow at the back.

I took an Uber downtown, arriving early as promised to help with decorations. The reunion committee was there already, placing centerpieces on tables, setting up a photo booth, and giving a photo montage a test run on a large screen against one wall.

Jennifer Krege, the committee head, greeted me warmly. We hadn’t been close friends, but I remembered her as an outgoing high-achiever. “You look beautiful,” she said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Thanks. You look beautiful too.” She was very pregnant, but looked adorable in her dress and flats, and I was jealous of the way she could wear an Audrey Hepburn updo. My ears made me look like a muppet when I tried it. “What can I do to help?”

She put me to work setting out votive candles, and when that was done, she asked me to help her move some tables to make room for dancing. Other committee members said hello, and while no one squealed with joy when they saw me, no one spit in my eye either. I began to think maybe the evening would be OK.

I relaxed even further after a couple glasses of wine, and even managed to have some fun reminiscing with former classmates about school plays, favorite teachers, choir trips, Homecoming parades and bonfires. Maybe I was a little bit careful whenever I talked to someone to keep the conversation focused on the past, but other people seemed more interested in reliving the old days rather than talking about their current, everyday lives too. Only a few asked about Save a Horse, and when I confessed that pretty much everything they saw was staged, they said (much to my relief) that’s what they figured since I’d never been anything like that in school, and we went on to talk about other things. (Only one creeper asked about the mechanical bull, but I quickly excused myself to the ladies room after that.)

As the evening wore on, I found I actually enjoyed hearing about the different paths my classmates had taken, and I didn’t resent their happy marriages or adorable kids or professional lives. In fact, I was genuinely happy for them. There were even a couple divorces and failed start-ups and one juicy affair rumor, so I didn’t feel completely terrible about my mistakes or lack of direction. When people asked what I was doing now, I simply said I’d moved to New York for a while but missed home and family, so I was working for Natalie and the family farm while I figured out what to do next.

Far from being judgmental, some of my married-with-kids classmates expressed envy at my having so much time to myself, at all the possible avenues still open to me. I smiled and agreed, but inside I thought it would be nice to owe a little time to someone. It made me think of Sebastian, and I wondered what he was doing tonight. I hadn’t heard from him since I got out of his truck three days before.

“I mean, seriously, you could like take off tomorrow and go to Rio or something and no one would even bother you,” Katelyn Witzke was saying to me, although her eyes were scanning the room behind me. “Ooh! There’s Sam Schatko. He looks bad. Did you hear about his wife? I heard she’s screwing his boss. Can you imagine?”

“No. Hadn’t heard that,” I murmured. Katelyn and I had run with the same popular crowd, but even back then I remember her always gossiping about someone. I hadn’t liked it much then and found it even less tolerable now.

“Anyway, I can’t even go to the bathroom at home without the boys following me in there. A shower by myself feels like heaven. And speaking of heaven, what god is that?”

“Huh?”

“That guy right there, behind you. He’s gorgeous. Did he go to our school?”

Confused, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sebastian walking through the crowd, looking right at me. My breath caught in my throat—he
did
look like a god. Gorgeous and serious and totally focused on me. Wearing a dark blue suit and white dress shirt without a tie, he turned every female head in the place as he crossed the room. My stomach flip-flopped madly.

Wait, I was angry with him. I narrowed my eyes.

But as he came closer and I saw the uncomfortable, almost pained expression on his face, I knew I wouldn’t have the heart to brush him off when he got to my side.

Still, it had been three days. I could make him sweat five more minutes. I turned back to Katelyn.

“Do you know who that is?” she whispered, staring over my shoulder, her dark eyes like saucers.

“Mmhm.” I lifted my wine glass to my lips nonchalantly, trying not to betray the hammering in my chest. A moment later, I felt the warmth of his body at my back.

“Hey.” His voice was low in my ear.

A shiver moved up my spine. I looked at him over one shoulder.

Then I waited.

For an apology. A how are you. A nice to see you. Anything that would indicate he knew he’d hurt my feelings and felt bad about it. Seconds ticked by and he remained silent, so I looked at Katelyn again, who was standing there with her mouth agape. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

Then I felt it—his forehead dropping gently onto the back of my head, and resting there. Something squeezed my heart, but I refused to give in. Then I felt the hand on my hip, heard him whisper my name, and I knew I was lost.

Katelyn was positively riveted. “Is—is this your husband, Skylar?”

“No. This is Sebastian Pryce. Sebastian, do you remember Katelyn Witzke, used to be Katelyn Ellis?” He didn’t move. “Say hello to the nice lady, Sebastian,” I said firmly.

Sighing, he came out from behind me and held out his hand. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Katelyn said uncertainly, taking his hand. I could tell she was struggling to place him, just like I had, and I could also tell the moment it clicked, because she blinked, her mouth falling open again. “Wait a minute—you’re not the Sebastian Pryce from our graduating class, are you?”

He nodded, looking more uncomfortable by the minute. Unable to stay mad at him when he seemed so miserable, I took his hand. “Sebastian moved back about a year ago, and we ran into each other at Coffee Darling. He’s an attorney now.”

“Oh,” she said, recovering somewhat. “For what firm?”

“My father’s.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, and I scrambled to cover the awkward silence. “Hey, would you mind getting me another glass of white wine, Sebastian?” I asked him. “I’m empty.”

“Sure.” He took my glass. “And then maybe we can talk?”

“OK.”

He looked at Katelyn. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks.” She held up her half-f glass. “I’m good.” As soon as he was out of earshot, she pounced on me. “Oh my God! Is that really Sebastian Pryce? The crazy one? Are you guys dating? He’s so hot! Is he, like, normal now?”

Irked by the word crazy, I was already frowning by the time she got to normal. “Don’t say that about him. He wasn’t crazy, he was just…shy. And a little anxious.”

She shrank away from me, screwing up her face. “Are we thinking of the same person? He was totally nuts. Remember all the weird things he used to do? The washing his hands thing and the way he’d arrange all his pens and pencils on his desk so they were the exact same distance apart and the way he wouldn’t sit in an odd row in any classroom? I remember this huge fight he got into with Mr. Parlatto because he wouldn’t sit in the first row.” She lifted her wine to her lips, her eyes lighting up at the promise of fresh gossip. “He was a total freak.”

I was furious now, my hands fisting at my sides. “I remember how he used to get teased for being a little different,” I snapped. “And I realize now how tough it must have been for him to go through school without any friends. I wish I’d have shown more compassion, something I think we all could use a little more of. Excuse me.”

I found Sebastian in line at the bar, fending off the advances of a drunk Cassie Callahan, our prom queen and head cheerleader. A girl who probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day ten years ago. Fierce, territorial desire for him ignited inside me. “Ready to go? I need a ride home.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t want your wine?”

“No. I’m done.” Without a word to anyone else, I took Sebastian’s hand and pulled him through the crowd, well aware of the stares we got. At the coat check, Sebastian held my coat for me and I slipped into it, then he tipped the woman two dollars before taking my hand again. My heart was pounding as we descended the stairs, and I had the desperate urge to kiss him, to wrap my arms and legs around him, to cover his body with mine and protect him—which was ridiculous. I was half a foot shorter than he was, even in my heels. And he was a grown, gorgeous, strong man, not the misunderstood child he’d been…but still. Something inside me just wanted to get him alone and hold him, whisper to him, take him inside me and make him feel good. He’d come here for me, even though he hadn’t wanted to. Even though he’d known how people would gossip and wonder.

We didn’t speak until we got outside on the empty sidewalk. “Fucking hell,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as we turned the corner. His truck was parked on the street a few cars down. “How did you stand it in there that long?”

I didn’t answer. Instead I moved in front of him and threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard, my feet coming right off the ground. His arms looped around my back

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I whispered against his lips.

“I came for you.”

Gratitude made my body tingle, but I wanted more. “Why?”

“Because I’m sorry.” He set me on my feet and looked me in the eye. “Because it wasn’t just about sex, and I treated you like it was. I was wrong.” Lowering his lips to mine, he kissed me before whispering in my ear, “Give me another chance. Please.”