On a blustering February evening, Adrian walked into the restaurant struggling to push aside her anxiety over what she thought of as her annual Ugly Valentine. This one, postmarked from Boulder, made the sixth. The fact that there’d been no follow-through, no escalation, didn’t comfort her. Their consistency signaled someone very focused and unnaturally obsessed.

She’d nearly called off the dinner meeting with her agent and Harry, but pushed herself out the door with the latest poem weighing like lead in her purse.

Since, as always, she arrived early, she thought to have a drink at the bar to ease her nerves rather than sit alone at a table in the dining room.

The thrum of conversation and energy helped. She gave her name to the hostess, then turned into the bar with its dark wood, its old exposed brick. She started to grab a stool, then spotted a familiar face at one of the high-tops.

She’d seen Raylan a handful of times since he’d left home for college in Savannah, and since Maya kept her updated knew he’d scored coveted internships with Marvel Comics that led to an entry-level position as an artist at its New York headquarters.

The boy with sketches all over his bedroom walls had landed what she assumed was his dream job.

And the gorgeous blonde with him had to be the artist he’d fallen for in college and now had a long-distance relationship with while she, like Adrian, completed her senior year.

She hesitated—they looked so involved with each other they might have been on some deserted beach in the moonlight. But she could hardly pretend she hadn’t seen the brother of her oldest friend.

They looked like artists, she thought as she started toward their table. Raylan with that burnt honey hair waving over the collar of his shirt, the woman—Adrian couldn’t pull out the name—with her sun-washed braid halfway down her back.

Raylan glanced over as she approached, and those green eyes scanned her face, first with puzzlement, then dawning recognition.

She felt a little buzz—but then his eyes always managed that.

“Well, hey, Adrian.”

“Hey back, Raylan. I heard you were working in New York.”

“Yeah, Lorilee Winthrop, this is Adrian Rizzo, a good pal of Maya’s. Adrian, this is Lorilee, my …”

“Fiancée. Just today!” Even in excitement Lorilee’s voice carried images of magnolias, Spanish moss, and cold sweet tea sipped on verandas. She stuck out her hand, with its pretty diamond on the third finger.

“Oh my God.” Instinctively, Adrian took the offered hand, felt the warmth, the thrill. “It’s beautiful. Congratulations. Wow, Raylan, congratulations. I can’t believe Maya didn’t text me.”

“We haven’t told anybody yet.”

“I’m a blabbermouth. I can’t help it.”

“Do me a favor, don’t tell Maya we told you first. You know,” Raylan added. “Maybe act surprised when she tells you.”

“I can do that. Consider it an engagement present.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Lorilee invited. “Maya’s told me a lot about you, and I met your grandparents. They’re just wonderful, aren’t they? Oh, I love your DVDs. And I just can’t stop talking. Raylan, honey, get Adrian a chair.”

“No, no, but thanks. I’m meeting people—I’m just a little early.”

“You live in New York. I can’t believe I’m going to move here next spring.”

Raylan looked at his fiancée as if she were the only woman in this world or any. Adrian felt a little sigh, a little tug inside her.

“In case you couldn’t tell, Lorilee’s a southern girl.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed. And an artist, too, I’m told.”

“I’m trying. What I really want to do is teach art. I love kids. Raylan, honey, we have to have a dozen.”

He smiled at her. Adrian swore she could count the stars on the deep green sea of his eyes.

“Maybe half a dozen.”

“Sounds like a negotiation.” Adrian laughed, and tried to imagine the boy she’d known with half a dozen kids.

And oddly, she could.

“Raylan, your mom and Maya are going to be over the moon. They’re crazy about you,” she told Lorilee.

“Oh! That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I speak true. Maya’s told me a lot about you, too, and one thing she told me is you’re too good for Raylan.”

“More true,” Raylan said. “As long as she doesn’t believe it until a year from June when it’s official, I’m gold.”

“You’re so silly.” Lorilee leaned over the table to kiss him.

“And there’s my dinner meeting. I’m so glad we ran into each other. And whatever Maya thinks, I say the two of you look perfect together. Congratulations again.”

“It was just wonderful meeting you.”

“You, too.”

Adrian walked away to exchange quick hugs with her agent, with Harry. Before they settled at their table, she ordered a bottle of champagne for Raylan’s.

Perfect together, she thought again, and found their happiness so infectious she didn’t realize she’d forgotten about the poem in her purse.

Three days later, she received a thank-you note—with hand-painted tulips on the front—from Lorilee.

Dear Adrian,

Thank you so much for the champagne. It was incredibly thoughtful, so unexpected. We wanted to thank you in person, but didn’t want to interrupt your meeting.

I’m so glad we met, and on the happiest day of my life. Jan and Maya love you so much, and I love them. That means, by connection, I love you, too. I hope you don’t mind.

I’m going to keep doing your workouts, and they’re going to help me look amazing on my wedding day.

Thanks again,

Lorilee (the future Mrs. Wells!)

 

Though Adrian didn’t consider herself sentimental, she found the card so charming, she kept it.

After she graduated in the spring, she dived straight into a new video. Though she’d hired dancers and trainers to participate in previous shoots, this time she strong-armed Teesha and Loren.

“I’m going to look like an idiot.”

In his sweatpants and New Gen tee, Loren stood six feet now. He’d trimmed down, had let his fire-red hair grow enough to handle what Teesha called his “lawyer do.”

“You won’t,” Adrian assured him. “You did fine in the rehearsals. Now you just follow my cues.”

“You can’t cue me to suddenly develop rhythm. I’m going to screw up that cardio dance bit. Why Latin style, Ads? With the hips and all that.”

“Because it’s fun.” She poked him in the stomach. “And you look great. How much did you lose?”

He rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five after I put on the Freshman Ten and you started nagging my ass long-distance.”

“She never gave me a chance to gain the ten. Long-distance?” Teesha rolled her eyes back at him. “That’s nothing compared to rooming with.”

“You look good.”

Teesha wiggled her hips, fluffed at the ebony halo she wore since she’d whacked off her braids. “I do. I surely do. I am rocking this outfit.”

“What there is of it,” Hector said as he walked the space again.