He joins in, and we ham it up, strutting across the stage. I’m having a blast, like I usually do with Ransom.
Here and now, sure. But also because we’re plotting something fun.
Something big.
Something good.
And then we’ll go on a date.
And that’ll be fun too.
But when I look at the crowd, my joy in the moment fizzles out, leaving me flat. It seems like everyone here is coupled up, arms draped around each other, heads resting on shoulders, kisses brushing cheeks. My heart aches at the sight.
I once wanted that.
I once had that.
But that kind of love cuts deep.
I wish it didn’t. But, oh hell, does it ever.
Once, I’d felt those overwhelming, chest-flooding emotions, and the one I’d loved abandoned me when I needed him the most.
The chorus of the song comes in, and my throat catches. I swallow down the sadness and loss, shoving away this flood of emotion.
Then I glance at Ransom and go back to laughing, having a good time.
Yes, I’m the good-time girl.
He’s the good-time guy.
That is who we are.
That is who we will always be.
At the end of the evening, as everyone shuffles off—hand in hand, arm in arm, lips ready to lock—I head outside with Ransom, telling him I’m going to wait for my Lyft.
“I’ll wait with you,” he says, with a softness in his eyes that I see every now and then.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to, Teagan,” he insists. “I want to make sure you get home safely.”
“You have to protect your top bidder before the auction,” I tease.
He tilts his head, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s it. No other reason.”
I nudge him, keeping up the joke because humor is safer than being serious with him. “Don’t worry. Just set me up with a bodyguard and around-the-clock protection, and I’ll be fine.”
“Good to know. Because my other alternative was to do that whole Han Solo encase-you-in-carbonite routine.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “That’s so 1981.”
The Lyft arrives, and I slide inside, click the seat belt, and glance out the window. Ransom’s eyes lock with mine, and for a fleeting second—okay, for maybe ten fleeting seconds—after he says my name and wishes me good night, I can kind of see why our friends are always trying to hook us up.
He’s gorgeous, single, funny, and talented, and he doesn’t want to be serious.
I don’t do serious either.
Maybe they all figure we’re perfect clowns together. That we’d be perfectly unserious together.
Maybe they’re right, because he’s a lot like me.
But what would happen if two people who didn’t want to be serious got together? They’d crash into each other for a hot, fiery moment in time. Then they’d repel each other.
We’d become that annoying couple who dated once and then hated each other.
We’d become the bruise in our group of friends, the brown hole in the apple that you try to avoid.
I won’t do that to my friends. I love them too much. They have been my family since my family has been gone.
That’s why I email Nancy in the cab on the way home, extending my donation request to include the companion dog organization, and I go home alone—as I’ve done for years.
The next morning, Nancy emails me back to tell me the board for my parents’ foundation approved a bid for the companion dog charity.
Then I read the amount she’s nominated.
My jaw drops.
There’s no way anyone else will be taking Ransom home.
I get out of bed and head to the kitchen, stopping at a framed photo of my family on the way, a shot of the four of us from more than twenty years ago.
Back when my family was a foursome.
The least I can do is carry on their wishes, to take all this money they earned and give most of it away.
And maybe, just maybe, along the way, I’ll have a Sunday Funday–type date with the most interesting man I know. But that’ll be all. Because there’s nothing more brewing between us.
There shouldn’t be anything else brewing but the coffee I’m starting in the kitchen.
With the coffee maker gurgling, I grab my phone and send a morning hello to Bryn, ready to give her a piece of my mind, even if it’s a playful one.
* * *
Teagan: You are such a troublemaker.
* * *
Bryn: Moi?
* * *
Teagan: Don’t act so innocent.
* * *
Bryn: Ha. As if I’m innocent of anything.
* * *
Teagan: Exactly.
* * *
Bryn: But what is this trouble you speak of, my friend?
* * *
Teagan: I know that you and Fitz and Logan and Summer and Oliver engineered this whole auction date thing with Ransom.
* * *
Bryn: Hmm. That’s quite an allegation. Any evidence to prove your accusation?
* * *
I roll my eyes at her reply, laughing as I take down a coffee mug. Then I write back.
* * *
Teagan: It’s adorable that you think I didn’t immediately know you were the puppeteer in all of this. Hey, how about Teagan bids on Ransom? Gee, won’t that be perfect? So you. So very you.
