James steps forward, hands in his pockets, presence more threatening than ever.
“What was it you were going to say, Preston?”
Pierce’s jaw tightens. He looks at James, then at me, then back again, as if trying to calculate which of us has the upper hand.
Vanessa stiffens, her grip on Pierce’s arm tightening. I want to laugh, but the tension in the air is thick.
“Oh, uh, nothing,” he says, voice laced with restraint. “Just saying how lovely this event is. It’s Pierce, by the way.”
“Great. Enjoy your evening, Preston,” James taunts as he offers his arm to me.
I take it and follow him out onto the empty terrace. We stand leaning against the railing, looking out over the city skyline.
“You look incredible tonight,” James says.
“Thank you. Mina picked it, of course.”
He laughs, the sound softer than I expect. “You could have worn a paper sack, and you’d still put every woman in there to shame.”
The way he’s looking at me makes my pulse jump. His hand comes to rest on my lower back, fingers splayed, and I feel the imprint of his touch even through the fabric.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Just stands beside me, eyes on the city’s lights. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost tired.
“You ever wish you could start over?” he asks.
I snort. “Only every day.”
“I keep thinking about Nashville,” he says. “That week. What it was like before I made a mess of everything.”
He looks at me, and I see the cracks forming under his usual smooth exterior. “I shouldn’t have let you go,” he says.
I laugh, but it comes out wrong. “You didn’t have a choice, James. Neither of us did. And besides, things were…complicated outside of what we had going on anyway.”
“Nash?” he asks in the most straightforward way.
No point in lying now. We’re all guilty of the same thing.
“Yes. Nash.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes a slow breath, eyes fixed on the skyline.
“I want you to come back. To me,” he clarifies. “If you want to, I mean. I can handle the rest. I can handle my father. I just—” He stops, exhaling hard through his nose. “I can’t go on like this.”
“James,” I say, and then I realize I don’t have a script for this moment. All I have is the pounding in my chest, the way his hand spans the small of my back as if to memorize it.
He’s closer now, the warmth of him radiating through my skin.
“Just…come back to me.”
“James, it’s not that simple.”
He studies me. “You’re right. It’s not. But there’s a part of you that’s still mine. And I’m not going to apologize for wanting it back.”
I can’t breathe for a second. I need to get out of here. Right now. Luckily, the firm booked a block of rooms for the gala attendees, and one of them is mine.
“I think I should call it a night.”
James removes his hand from the small of the back and gives me space to step away.
