But instead, I rubbed the back of my neck and stared out his window, down toward the practice field where some of the guys were already warming up. The sun was high and blinding. Or maybe that was just my mood.
I’d screwed up the other night. I knew it the second she flinched when I stepped toward her. I hadn’t meant to push. I hadn’t meant to look at her like that—like I still needed her the way I did that night.
But I did. And it terrified her.
“She won’t go,” I said quietly.
"She already said yes," he said.
That shut me up.
The Aston Martin pulled up in front of her apartment just after six.
I hadn’t texted.
Because I was a fucking coward.
I’d spent the last twenty-four hours pacing my condo, half-thinking I’d just show up and apologize, the other half reminding me she probably didn’t want to see me at all. Cam said two hours. In and out. Wear a suit. Play nice. Damage control.
But this—seeing her again—was going to gut me.
I adjusted the cufflink on my left wrist for the third time, then gave up. My fingers were restless, my head louder than I wanted it to be. I didn’t go to the door. Left that to the driver. I couldn’t face the space we used to fill together—not yet. Not until I saw what I’d already lost.
Then she stepped outside.
And I forgot how to breathe.
Her dress was a deep burgundy, the kind that made you think of wine and sin and soft candlelight. Off the shoulder, sleek as hell, like it’d been made to hug every inch of her. Her hair was pinned up, loose curls framing her face. Gold earrings caught the last bit of sunlight, but it was her eyes that undid me.
She looked composed. Confident. Like the storm last night hadn’t touched her at all.
“You clean up good, Walker,” she said casually, voice light, almost teasing.
Like nothing had happened.
Like we hadn’t broken whatever thread was left between us.
So that was how she wanted to play it.
Fine.
I could do that.
“Not so bad yourself,” I managed, my voice steady even though I could feel my ribs tightening like a damn vice.
She smiled. Just a hint. And the relief on her face nearly dropped me to my knees.
Because it was there—in the tiny flicker behind her eyes.
She’d been scared I’d make this worse. Scared I’d push. That I’d ask for something she couldn’t give.
But I didn’t.
And that small breath she let out?
It broke me.
I opened the car door for her. “After you, princess.”
