“This isn’t becoming anything—” Lord knows I want it to become something “—unless you want it to become something.” I wink.
“Of course not,” she rushes out.
“If you say so.” I chuckle. “I would love to stay and chat with you, but I’m meeting my brothers for an early dinner.”
“Brothers? Do you have two—never mind, enjoy your dinner.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I reply, turning to leave. I’m halfway down the hallway when her voice stops me.
“Aaron?”
I glance back, finding her still standing where I left her, one hand absently playing with the pendant around her neck.
“Thank you.” She pauses. “For earlier with William.”
“Anytime.”
I pushthrough the door of Amy Ruth’s, and the restaurant swallows me whole—soul food aromas mingling with after-work chatter and clinking glasses. Bodies pack the bar three-deep, ties loosened, amber drinks catching light from the fixtures overhead. I weave between tables until I spot them: Grayson’s linebacker frame and Axel’s slicked-back hair, tucked beneath an old Harlem photograph. Axel talks with his hands as always, his silver ring flashing with each movement, while Grayson just nods and plays with his drink. They’re lost in their own world until I’m right there, my presence suddenly blocking their light.
“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Grayson announces, sliding over to make room.
“I just saw your ass a few days ago,” I remind him, settling into the booth.
“Yeah, but you haven’t seenme.” Axel grins, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“And whose fault is that?”
“Well, I’ve been busy, and we were supposed to have dinner a few nights ago, but you backed out,” Axel responds.
“Right, because owning a comic company is that stressful, and I had something important come up.”
“Hey, as a fellow creative, you should know it is.” Axel lifts an eyebrow at me. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m only teasing, don’t get sensitive. If anyone knows how stressful it is, it’s me. But nonetheless, I am happy you are able to find the free time to spend with us.”
“So, tell us how it is working with the TA. I’m dying to know if things have changed from the last time we spoke,” Grayson chimes in. “Did you get her to believe in happily ever after?”
“TA?” Axel asks.
“Remember back in college, Aaron was smitten with his TA for chem?”
“Wait, the Korean girl who practically lived in our dorm suite for two months and then ghosted you on Valentine’s weekend… that TA? She’s the attorney you are shadowing?”
“Damn.” Grayson chuckles. “Why did you have to bring up the ghosting? You know that shit killed him for three months until he met Vanessa.”
I’d protest, but Grayson is right. If anyone has a Ph.D. in my pathological need for closure, it’s him. “Yes, that one. She works at Parras Law now. She’s—” I stop, because for all my bravado, the word I want is still missing.
Axel cracks a wicked grin. “Bet you never thought she’d be on the other side of a glass table again, huh?”
The memory is so sharp I have to blink. I remember those late nights in Butler Library, the two of us in a study booth, her hand on my thigh and the low glow from her laptop painting her face in silver. The way she’d go quiet for minutes at a time when she was thinking through a problem, then turn to me and deliver some devastating punchline about the periodic table or my lack of focus. I remember her laugh, short and self-amused, only ever for herself.
“She doesn’t remember me,” I say, and the words are heavier out loud than I expect. “Not even a flicker.”
Axel’s grin turns into a scowl. “Nah, that’s bullshit. She knows exactly who you are. She’s just pretending. Women remember every scrap.”
“I’m serious. I even tried to jog her memory at dinner. Nothing.”
“Maybe that’s for the better, Ron.” Grayson leans back into the booth. “You can write your romance, get your research, and if she does remember, you can have your big finale at the end—like in that John Cusack movie where the two idiots chase each other all over the world.”
