I remembered all of it.
“Do you want to get coffee?” The question came out before I could think better of it, before I could talk myself out of it or convince myself this was a bad idea. “If you have time. I’d just like to catch up.”
My heart was doing something embarrassing in my chest, nervous energy I hadn’t felt in years. I didn’t get nervous easily. Boardroom negotiations, hostile acquisitions, investor presentations where millions of dollars hung on every word—none of it made me nervous.
But standing here asking Gianna if she wanted coffee was making my pulse race like I was eighteen and asking someone to prom.
She hesitated and I held my breath, watching her think it through. She was probably busy, probably had a million things to do, probably had every reason to say no to a guy she’d spent one night with three years ago.
Then she smiled, and it was like the sun coming out.
“Coffee sounds good.“
CHAPTER 4
Gianna
The café was packedwith the usual late afternoon crowd—students hunched over laptops, remote workers being productive, a group of grad students arguing loudly about something philosophical in the corner.
Archie reached the door first and held it open, gesturing me through.
We found a small table near the window.
“I can pay for my own coffee,” I said, out of habit more than anything.
“I know you can,” he replied, already handing his card to the barista. “But I asked you here, so I’m paying. Consider it the price of three years of curiosity.”
I let it go because honestly, watching him be quietly insistent about something so small was oddly charming.
We sat across from each other and for a moment neither of us spoke. I wrapped my hands around my cup, absorbing the warmth, trying to figure out what you were supposed to say to someone you’d spent one perfect night with three years ago and never expected to see again.
He looked different in the daylight. Still handsome, but I could see details I’d missed that night—the way his hair fell slightly when he leaned forward, how his eyes looked lighter with the afternoon sun coming through the window.
Archie broke the silence first. “I tried to find you after that night. Asked Hector once how you were doing, but he just said you were fine and didn’t offer details.”
“That sounds like Hector,” I said, relaxing slightly. “He’s protective of people’s privacy. Wouldn’t give you my number even if you’d asked directly.”
“I figured.” He turned his cup in his hands.
Then he looked at me, and something in his expression made my pulse forget its normal rhythm.
“That night on the terrace meant something to me. You meant something to me. Maybe the timing just wasn’t right.”
Suddenly, my coffee cup felt too hot in my hands. I’d spent three years telling myself that night had been a fluke, a moment out of time that didn’t need to mean anything beyond what it was. But sitting here looking at him now, I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t mattered.
I set the cup down carefully, buying myself a second to think. To decide how honest I wanted to be.
“It meant something to me too,” I admitted finally.
His expression softened, relief visible in the way his shoulders dropped slightly.
“Though I should probably be embarrassed,” I added, “about how much I told a complete stranger.”
“Don’t be.” His voice was quiet, sincere. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t usually share that much either. Something about that night made it easy.”
“Still. I don’t usually overshare like that.”
“Good. I’d hate to think I wasn’t at least a little special.” His mouth curved and there it was, that smile that had made me forget my own name three years ago.
