Men were everywhere. I just needed to find one to marry me and let me lead my own family company so I could take care of everybody.

Unfortunately, the ones I met at mixers were social climbers. As soon as they saw “Martin” on my name tag, they'd roughly shake my hand, asking me about my father and my company. They were Todd clones with matching fake smiles. Some with less hair and worse senses of humor.

I joined jogging groups, the gym! I figured people who took care of themselves could understand hard work, goals, and nurturing.

One guy lost his train of thought every time the woman in front of us bent over to stretch. Not a great multitasker.

Another shouted and let the weights slam every time he did a lift. Not very considerate. And why so aggressive?

When I finally met a nice, normal-ish guy, I was determined to meet up with him again. Too bad I only realized why he looked so familiar once he was in the parking lot—his mugshot had circulated the business world for a few months after his insider trading arrest!

Scalding showers couldn’t rinse the “ick” factor of this whole situation away. I still had to put on a happy face for my father and Todd so they didn’t suspect I knew what they were doing behind the scenes. They couldn’t clear their throats in that office anymore without me popping in to offer a cough drop. My eyes and ears were open. But my heart was guarded.

In the hopes of putting myself out there without dreading the prospect, I invited Yessica to be my wingwoman to find a convenient, but decent, future husband. Getting dolled up and finding new places was always fun with my friend. Our last dinner date had ended with that messy reunion with Damon. Part of me kept expecting him to show up again.

But he didn’t.

Yessica laughed at something the guy who brought us drinks said. Shoot, I missed the joke. But they seemed to be getting on.

“I… see an old friend. Excuse me.” I gave Yessica an approving wink and wandered into the crowd. Hopefully, she’d enjoy her evening while I drifted through the sea of possibilities.

Maybe I could still save the company without the shares… I’d just need to convince Dad to do things my way before Todd swooped in. But that was a big risk. 

I sipped my drink and walked around the room. At least there were plenty of pretty distractions. One guy at the far end of the bar had nice, broad shoulders and open body language as he talked to his friends.

I downed the rest of my drink and sidled up next to the bar, accidentally brushing my arm across his back.

He turned. I smiled.

Of course.

It was Damon.

“I think we need some drinks,” I said.

“I agree.” He excused himself from his friends and turned towards the bar, eyeing the sparkly, low-cut number Yessica had picked out from the back of my closet. “You look… stunning.”

“Thanks. So do you.” I ordered us a couple of shots and downed mine immediately. At his appraising raised eyebrow, I wiped the corner of my mouth, careful not to smudge any lipstick. “Sorry, it’s been a long week.”

“I get it. Work. Family.” He took his own shot.

“Yes and yes.” I drummed my fingers on the bar and watched his Adam’s apple bob. “How is everybody?”

“Good. Busy. Same as me.”

I nodded. Maybe it was the rash of bad attempted dates, but I couldn’t take the small talk anymore. 

“Don’t you miss how we used to be?” I asked.

He coughed and pounded on his chest. “Excuse me?”

“We could talk about anything! Forever! Now, is it just ‘how’s your family’ and work things? Don’t we have hobbies?”

“Do you have time for any of your hobbies?” He grinned and nursed the drink he’d had when I came over. “Painting, maybe?”

“No.” I shuddered. “If Yessica found out, she’d make me do one of those pinot painting parties. Jeanice did one for her bachelorette party—”

“Jeanice from high school?”

“Mmhmm!” I took my second shot. “The teacher reminded me we were painting trees, not spider monstrosities.”

Damon’s laugh made me smile. He shook his head. “What did you do with it?”

“Put it behind my dresser where it couldn’t scare anybody. When I moved, it ‘mysteriously’ disappeared.”

“Ah, so you paid one of the guys on the truck to lose it on the way?”

“That, or it crawled to a new hiding place.”

We laughed and kept chatting, but now that I thought about it, Todd might’ve bribed somebody to “lose” the painting. He sold and donated old things out from under me just because I didn’t use them constantly.

Time flew by as we reminisced and commiserated about our busy schedules. Damon’s friends eventually tapped his shoulder to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” I said, emboldened by the good conversation and booze.

“So classy,” he teased, holding the door open for me.

As soon as we stepped outside, a shocking breeze ruffled my dress. I shivered and rubbed my arms only for Damon to drop his jacket around my shoulders. The silky lining and residual warmth blanketed me like a cocoon.

“It fits,” I murmured, playing with the smooth inside hem as his friends walked off ahead of us. “You used to lend me your jackets during dances. You were quite the gentleman.”

“I still am,” he said.

Looking into his gentle, earnest eyes, I believed him. “Thank you for being nice to me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. His breath warmed my neck as he returned the embrace. For a few minutes, it was like we were even further into the past: post-homecoming, when we were both punch-drunk on dancing, on proximity, on the promise of true love. I was loved, respected, supported… I had a partner.

Yes, he’d changed. So had I. But the contagious laugh, the warm embrace? That had stayed the same.

The purr of engines signaled his friends had found the cars to take them to the next place.

 “I’m glad we made amends,” I said.

Damon held my hand as I pulled away, squeezing before letting go entirely. “Same. Take care.”

As he got into the car, a familiar pang tightened in my chest. I wrapped the jacket tighter around my shoulders to block out the oncoming cold.

Oh, the jacket!

“Damon!” I tried to chase the car down, but it was too late. For the rest of the night, this jacket would protect me. Eventually, he’d get it back. Dry-cleaned. Better than ever. Just like him… and me.