Page 2 of Resisting the Handsome Doctor
"He specifically asked about you, so yeah, I'm pretty sure he remembers you."
I shelve Gatsby and move to the next cart, needing something to do with my hands. "We barely talked in high school."
"You talked plenty."
"At your house. Because I was there to see you."
"Is that what you think?" Levi laughs, but it's gentle. The kind of laugh that says he knows something I don't. "Ivy, come on. You're not that oblivious."
"Oblivious about what?"
"Nothing. Forget it." More silence. Then: "Just go to the reunion. What's the worst that could happen?"
I could walk into a room full of people who never noticed me and still be invisible. I could see Owen Harper. Dr. Owen Harper now, successful and handsome and everything he was always going to be, and watch his eyes skip right past me like I'm part of the furniture. I could spend two hours being reminded that I peaked at invisible and it's been downhill from there.
"I'll think about it," I lie.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I know."
He sighs again, but this one's softer. Resigned. "Okay. But if you change your mind, the offer stands."
"Focus on your grand opening. It’s almost there. That's way more important than a high school reunion."
"You're important too, you know."
This is why Levi's my best friend. He's one of maybe three people in my entire life who's ever made me feel like I matter. "Love you."
"Love you too. Now stop hiding and go live your life."
"This is my life."
"I know. That's the problem."
He hangs up before I can argue, which is probably for the best because he's not wrong.
A few days later…
Friday arrives with autumn rain and gray skies that match my mood perfectly. I'm not going to the reunion. I've made my peace with that decision. Instead, I'm going to go home, order Chinese takeout, and reread Jane Eyre for the hundredth time. Maybe I'll take a bath. Maybe I'll actually finish the crossword puzzle I started three days ago.
It's going to be a perfectly nice evening alone, which is pretty much the theme of my life at this point.
The library closes at six on Fridays. I lock up, wave goodbye to Mrs. Silver who runs the tiny coffee shop next door, and climb into my old Honda Civic. She's fourteen years old and makesconcerning noises, but she's mine and she's paid off and that's what matters.
I'm not driving toward the reunion. I'm absolutely not. The venue is at the old Blackwater Inn on the edge of town—a restored Victorian that does weddings and events now. I'm driving in completely the opposite direction, toward the market, because I need milk and eggs and I'm absolutely not taking the route that happens to go past the inn.
Except that, my subconscious seems to have other plans, because twenty minutes later I'm driving down Riverside Road and the Blackwater Inn is right there, all lit up and beautiful in the rain.
I slow down without meaning to. The parking lot is already half full. People are actually going to this thing. I can see figures moving past the windows, dressed up and laughing. My chest gets tight.
Then my car makes a sound like death and lurches to the right.
"No. No no no no." I manage to pull onto the shoulder before the engine dies completely. The dash lights up like a Christmas tree, every warning symbol I've ever seen and a few I'm pretty sure are new.
I sit there in the sudden silence, rain drumming on the roof, and laugh. Of course. Of course this happens now, right in front of the one place I was actively avoiding.
The universe has a twisted sense of humor.
