Finding Us Again

TEMPTATIONS

Present day

And now, after several years since she got that email and twenty-one years since seeing her, standing face to face with Amelia, everything was coming to a head.

“Yes, who would have ever thought?” Michelle remarked, her laughter strained. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Amelia answered, with a dismissive wave. “I guess we’ll catch up later.”

And that was it, the long-anticipated confrontation with her one-time best friend now arch nemesis. In the twenty-one years of their separation and the eleven years of being married to Michael, Michelle had imagined their eventual reunion as emotional, enraged – on Amelia’s part – and contrite – on hers. Definitely with a lot of tears.

Never in a million iterations of that had she envisaged something this tepid and lackluster. But rather than be relieved it hadn’t been as tearful and chaotic as she’d feared, Morin was left with a hollow sense of foreboding in her stomach

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even though he’d been the one to canvas for them to attend the reunion, Michael didn’t know how much more of Michelle’s behaviour he could deal with. As if it wasn’t bad how weird she’d acted when Amelia came to say hello to them the previous night, now they ran the risk of being late for their class photograph, with her spending over an hour applying heavy makeup uncharacteristic for her.

“Michelle, the photographs begin in less than fifteen minutes,” he said, walking to the bathroom where she was standing over its counter now littered with every makeup item known to man, and dusting something gold and shiny on her cheekbones. “Isn’t that too much makeup?”

She glared at him. “You didn’t seem to think Amelia was wearing too much makeup when you were undressing her with your eyes last night.”

He let out a low, exhausted groan as he stepped away from the bathroom door, rubbing a hand over his face. So much for Michelle’s sudden bout of shyness; apparently that only applied when they were standing in front of the woman they once awkwardly shared in common. The moment they were alone again, Michelle had launched straight into a full-blown rant about how he’d supposedly been gawking.

And okay—fine. Maybe he had looked a little too long. The woman was still a knockout. Anyone with functioning eyes would’ve stared. But seeing her best friend from back in the day had set Michelle spinning, and honestly? He didn’t have the strength to yank her out of the spiral tonight.

Eventually, she settled on a brown shift dress layered with strands of pearls, her lips pressed tight as if holding back another lecture. They didn’t say a word to each other as they took the elevator down and walked into the hall for the class photos.

They barely made it two steps inside before Michael spotted Cole—hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dress pants, studying a group across the room like he was calculating their life choices.

“Cole!” Michelle called, instantly brightening. They walked up to him, and Cole’s face broke into a wide smile.

“Would you look at you,” Michelle teased.

Cole winked at Michael. “My guy, you should be thanking me. If I hadn’t moved out of the way back then, it would’ve been me standing where you are right now.”

Michael laughed before his brain could warn him. “Please. I would’ve been on your side wishing you luck. All the luck in the world.”

Michelle laughed too—but her brows tightened just enough to betray her irritation. Yeah. She didn’t think it was funny. Maybe it wasn’t.

“Don’t mind this silly boy,” she said, brushing it off as she gave Cole a playful punch on the arm.

“After hyping me up and chasing me for months, you vanished on me like I was a bad habit after that Christmas break.”

“That’s because you were way too good for me, babe,” Cole shot back, tossing her a wink.

Michelle’s mouth was already forming her next comeback when all three of them stopped—because someone had just walked in wearing a fire-red dress. Michael looked up, and it took every ounce of self-control not to blatantly stare. If Amelia had been gorgeous last night, she was downright insane this morning.

Except she wasn’t even in the dress. She’d switched into a tailored pantsuit, the jacket undone all the way to her sternum. The whole look was clean, classy, and stupidly sexy. One glimpse of skin, the easy sway of her hips—suddenly Michael’s brain was playing images he had no business entertaining. Not at 10 a.m., and definitely not about someone who wasn’t his wife. Especially not a woman he used to date.

But he couldn’t help it. His eyes tracked her automatically as she moved around the room, greeting people, smiling like she owned the place.

Cole cleared his throat—loud—to snap him out of whatever spell he’d fallen under. Michael blinked and forced himself to look away. But judging by Cole’s uneasy glance and the storm brewing on Michelle’s face, he hadn’t looked away fast enough.

They eventually lined up for photos, but even with people laughing and the camera flashing in his face, his gaze kept drifting. Amelia stood at the far end of the semi-circle, and he couldn’t stop checking if she was looking back. Michelle didn’t call him out afterward. No nagging. No sarcastic comments.

She just froze him out.

That was her worst kind of anger—the cold, silent kind. She ignored him the entire walk to the restaurant where the school management was giving presentations, only breaking the silence to chat and joke with old classmates like nothing was wrong.

When they sat down, she slid her chair a couple inches away from his. He didn’t complain. He barely even breathed.

He actually tried to focus on the principal’s speech—until movement at the door dragged his attention away again. And his jaw dropped.

Amelia walked in wearing a blue leather dress that clung to her like it had been painted on. The fact that she’d changed outfits was wild. The fact that she looked even better than before was… well, unfair.

Michael watched her walk, watched her settle into a seat, watched her laugh and chat with people like she hadn’t just turned the whole room upside down.

Then he looked at Michelle—arms crossed, jaw tight, face set in that stubborn, hurt expression she used when she refused to let her emotions show.

And he hated himself for it, really hated himself but the thought still crept in.

What if…Amelia hadn’t travelled? What if he had? What if they’d never lost contact? What if she was the one who was supposed to be seated next to him now?