“Evan,” I said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
He surprised me by smiling.
A real smile. Not a forced one, not a sad one. Just a smile. Then he leaned back in his chair. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I’m going anyway.”
I blinked. “Without an invitation?”
“Yep.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Why?”
For a moment, he looked out the window. Then he said something I didn’t fully understand at the time. “Because it’s time.”
Time for what? I wanted to ask.
But something in his expression stopped me. Whatever he was planning, he had already made up his mind.
A few days later, I noticed him sending several emails and making a handful of phone calls. Whenever I asked what he was doing, he’d smile and tell me not to worry about it.
The reunion was scheduled for a Saturday evening at a hotel ballroom downtown.
When the day finally arrived, I found myself far more nervous than he was.
Evan spent the afternoon getting ready as if he were attending an important business meeting. He wore a tailored navy suit, polished shoes, and a simple tie. Nothing flashy. Nothing designed to impress.
When he walked downstairs, he looked confident, calm, and completely at ease. I followed him to the front door. “Last chance to tell me what’s going on.”
