5 - Ancient history

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Monty walked through his mother's guests. He smiled but didn't stop, as he spied Oliver by the bar.

"Hey Oliver."

"Monty. You look great."

He shrugged. Oliver knew he had been traveling. His friend was privy to the truth about his adventures.

Monty motioned to the bar. "Can we step away from here?"

Oliver looked across the room and smiled, before nodding. "Let's go outside."

Monty felt a pang of jealousy. As they moved across the room to the open patio doors. Monty heard Trista's name mentioned by a few women he didn't know.

Once outside, Oliver said, "They are all in love with Trista and the Italian countryside."

Monty rolled his eyes. "The chef is preparing a recipe tonight."

Oliver snickered. "I see a book, Country ways of Europe or Back roads across the Globe."

Monty's face turned grim. "The old man wants me to travel for him. I'd much rather..."

"Oliver!" Both men turned to see Bea Petersen approaching with a beaming smile.

Monty kicked on his charm. "Bea, you look glowing."

She leaned in. "I can't help it. I'm going to be a grandmother!"

Both men congratulated her. Monty didn't need to fake a smile. A child who was wanted and loved was a powerful thing. Someday maybe he would experience it firsthand.

Bea's face turned serious. "Oliver, I heard a rumor about you."

The other man laughed. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

"I heard you are the only one who has met Trista Montgomery. You know she's the talk of the town." Bea lowered her voice, most likely for dramatic effect, not privacy. "Rumors are she's one of us masquerading."

"That's quite a tale you've spun, Bea. Have you thought about writing fiction?"

Monty added, "Perhaps a fantasy with your so-called magic fountain."

Bea's face looked stricken. "My fountain is magic, Monty Whitby! You need to come to my house and make a wish." She leaned in so only he could hear. "Then maybe all that sadness you use humor to hide will go away." Her voice turned loud again. "In fact, since you don't work, I expect you on Monday for lunch. Twelve-thirty. Sharp!"

Oliver looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "I'd like to see you get out of that one."

Monty wasn't worried about lunch with Bea. It was the wish that scared him. He had made a wish when he was seventeen the day after that fateful night. He stopped believing when Sloane refused to take him back. If he wished for Sloane and didn't believe in the fountain, she would never be his. Gray was right; he needed to be honest with her, but not at his mother's party. Soon, he promised himself.

After Oliver deserted him, he wandered inside. Looking around the room, he froze. She was ten steps away, laughing with her sister and Ted's new friend. Ted Calhoun may have picked a girl no one expected, but in Monty's experience unique things in life were far more enjoyable than elite items. Women weren't things, but the theory applied, except for one who was both unique and elite and absolutely stunning.

He had hoped she wouldn't attend. The Calhouns rarely arrived late. She walked in his direction, and as if on autopilot, he stopped her.

"Sloane, you look ravishing." He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Can I ravish you?"

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