A man in a maintenance uniform pushes a cleaning cart past us. An older woman examines sunglasses at a kiosk. Two college-age girls take selfies near a potted plant, giggling at their screen.
Normal. It all looks sonormal.
Maybe this was a bad idea. Clearly, whoever sent that text isn’t here. They’re still at the estate, or somewhere else entirely, laughing at how they’ve made us jump.
Maybe—
The thought cuts off mid-stream as my eyes snag on a figure across the mall corridor, maybe twenty feet away.
He’s standing in front of a store window but he’s not looking at the display. He’s looking directly at me.
Tall. Lean. He’s wearing dark jeans, a gray jacket and a baseball cap pulled low over his face, the brim shadowing his features.
But I can see the sharp line of his jaw. The way he’s standing with his weight on one leg, hands in his pockets. Casual. Relaxed.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
My heart stutters in my chest.
The man shifts slightly, and a beam of sunlight from the skylight catches under the brim of his cap and illuminates his face for just a second.
Blond hair. Just visible beneath the cap, the color of wheat in summer sun.
Blue eyes. That specific shade that’s seared into my memory, like the sky over the ocean on a clear day.
No.
No, itcan’tbe.
I stop walking. I actually freeze mid-step like someone hit pause on my life.
Dimitri doesn’t notice immediately. He takes another step before realizing I’m not beside him anymore. His hand drops from my back. “Vera? What’s wrong?”
But I can’t answer. I can’t move or do anything except stare across the mall corridor at the impossible.
The man is completely still now. Not browsing. Not shopping. Just standing there with his hands in his pockets and his face angled toward me.
Watching me.
The baseball cap keeps most of his face in shadow, but I can see enough. The shape of his nose. The curve of his mouth. The set of his shoulders.
Iknowthis body. Know it in the way you know something you’ve touched, held, and been held by.
My hands start to shake.
“Vera?” Dimitri’s voice has an edge now, concern bleeding into alarm. “What’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet.”
I only stare at the man.
The man shifts his weight again and tilts his head just slightly to the right—a gesture so achingly familiar it makes my chest hurt.
He smiles.
It’s a small smile. Barely there. Just the corner of his mouth quirking up beneath the shadow of the baseball cap’s brim.
But Iknowthat smile. I know the exact way his lips curve and how it looks in candlelight, in moonlight, in the moment before he kisses me. I know the way it made my heart flutter the first time I saw it across a crowded bar nearly a year ago.
