The vulnerability catches me off guard. This isn't the polished man who showed up yesterday. This is someone trying.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Middle ground. I can do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Don't sound so surprised. I'm not unreasonable.”
He laughs, low and warm. “Never doubted it. So, today. Will you come out with me?”
“As friends,” I clarify. “This isn’t a date.”
A beat of silence. “If that's what you need it to be.”
“It is.”
“Fine. Friends. Where do you want to go?”
I consider the options. The museum was my world. The painting class was his idea, but it was for me. I've seen nothing of who he actually is.
“Show me something about you,” I say. “Not somewhere you think I'll like. Somewhere that's yours.”
“You sure about that?”
“That's my condition.”
“Do you own jeans? A warm jacket? Boots?”
I frown, looking at my closet. “Yes...”
“Wear them. I'll pick you up at noon.”
“Kai, where are we going?”
“Trust me.”
He hangs up before I can protest.
I change my outfit three times, which is ridiculous for something that isn’t a date. I settle on dark denim, a cream cable-knit sweater, and brown leather boots. My warmest jacket is an olive parka, more practical than pretty. I leave my hair down, telling myself it's for warmth and not because I remember the way he looked at it that night at the museum.
At exactly noon, my phone buzzes.
I'm outside.
I grab my keys and head down three flights of stairs. At the landing, I pause by the window overlooking the street. A habit I've developed since James's texts started again. I scan the sidewalk, the parked cars, the shadowed doorways across the road.
A figure at the corner catches my eye. Male build, dark jacket, standing too still.
My breath catches.Is that...
I press closer to the glass, heart hammering. I blink. The corner is empty. Just a mother pushing a stroller, an old man with his dog.
I exhale slowly. Nerves. Just nerves. James is in Ashford, hundreds of miles away. I'm seeing ghosts.
When I push through the front door, I stop dead.
Kai is leaning against a motorcycle. Not a car. A classic machine in deep forest green, all polished chrome and wide leather seat. My stomach drops.
“You're joking,” I say, stepping onto the sidewalk.
