Free The Rules of Love & Grammar by Mary Simses Page A

yellows! I glance at Cluny to summon her over, but she looks as if she’s secretly snapping pictures on her cell phone while pretending to be reading text messages.
    “How long has it been?” Peter asks me.
    “Seventeen years,” I tell him. I think about how fast those years seem to be falling away now, and I wonder if it feels that way for him.
    “No. Really?” He frowns a little, as though this can’t be true. And there’s something in his eyes—a mist of sadness, maybe a hint of regret.
    “I haven’t seen you since just before you left town. We were sixteen, remember?”
    He glances across the room and rubs the back of his neck. “You know, you’re right. It has been that long.” He studies me again, from head to toe, and I stand there, mentally squirming, hoping he can see beyond my old jeans and wrinkled tee. Then he says, “Gracie girl, you look fantastic. You don’t look a day older than you did in high school.”
    I smile. He thinks I look good. And he’s using his pet name for me. “Nobody’s called me Gracie girl in a long time.”
    He laughs, and then he shakes his head, slowly, as though he still can’t believe we’re really here together. “I remember the day you won the tenth-grade essay competition as if it was yesterday. And all those spelling bees in middle school…you were invincible.” He glances across the room for a moment as though he’s picturing this. Then he says, “So tell me, what are you doing with yourself these days?”
    What am I doing? I start to panic. I don’t want to tell him I just lost my job. Or that I’m a technical writer. Or that I haven’t won any competitions in years. I’ll sound like such a loser compared with him. “I left a friend back at the booth,” I say as I give a frantic wave to Cluny. This time she notices and dashes over.
    “Peter, do you remember Cluny Barrow?” I ask. “I mean Hart. She was Cluny Hart in high school.”
    He hands a waitress his black American Express card. “Sure. How could I forget Cluny? You guys always hung out together.” Peter gives her a big squeeze and then introduces her to the group. She can barely speak by the time she gets to Sean, who is in the midst of autographing take-out menus for a couple of elderly ladies.
    “Okay, people,” Peter says. “I’d better get going. I’ve got work to do.” He smiles at me. “I’m so glad I came here today. I was feeling a little nostalgic for the apple pancakes, and then who do I run into but you?”
    So he did have the apple pancakes. “It was great to see you again,” I tell him, my eyes lingering on a little wavy section of hair above his left ear.
    “Hey, ladies,” Sean Leeds says, his gaze going from Cluny to me. “You two should stop by the set sometime.”
    “Ooh, that would be fun,” I say. “I’ve never been to a movie set.”
    I’m about to ask where they’re filming when Peter says, “We can make that happen, but I also have another idea. Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”
    I look at Cluny, who has turned so pale, I worry she’s gone into shock. “Party?” I ask. “What party?”
    “At my house,” Peter says. “I’m having a few people over. Around eight. It’s kind of a thank-you to the folks in town who have helped us. The production company set it up.”
    “Sure, that sounds nice.”
    “Believe me, it’s not the kind of thing we’d normally do in the middle of a shoot, but there were scheduling issues with a few of the key guests, so we’re having it early. And, anyway, I’m happy to do what I can to give a little something back to Dorset.”
    “It’s at your house?” I ask.
    “Yeah, the house I’m renting. On Mill Pond. Two Forty-Four.”
    “Okay, great,” I say. “We’ll be there.”
    Peter looks at Cluny. “Oh, and bring your husband.” Then he says to me, “And, of course, if you have a boyfriend, Grace…”
    A boyfriend? He thinks I’m dating someone? All of a sudden Scott Denby feels like