I back away slowly. “Maybe start with coffee. Somewhere neutral. Talk about the company, sure, but also talk about what really matters. If your hearts are not one hundred percent in favor of the divorce, don’t force it. And from what I can see, you two still clearly love each other.” I watch them exchange a glance loaded with complicated history.
“Thank you.” Evelyn’s voice is small but sincere. “For the interference and the advice.”
I nod, backing away. “Good luck, you two.”
As I head to the locker room, I can’t help but look back. They’re standing closer now, James’s hand hovering near Evelyn’s arm without quite touching it. It’s that space between them—filled with hurt but not yet emptied of hope—that strikes me as painfully beautiful.
I check my phone and see a text from Minji, timestamped twenty minutes ago.
Honeybee
Are you going to be showing up to my place early? What time should I be ready tonight?
It’s so perfectly her. No emojis, no exclamation marks, just direct and to the point. If she’s nervous, she hides it better than anyone I’ve ever met. I try to imagine her prepping for the evening—would she be doing a last-minute run-through of tomorrow’s court arguments, or lining up her makeup bottles in military formation? Maybe both.
Me
7:30. I’ll text when I’m downstairs.
A minute passes before she responds:
Honeybee
I’ll see you then.
No hearts or smileys. But for her, the period at the end is a talisman of sincerity.
I want tonight to go well. I want to peel back a layer of whatever armor she’s built up over the years, even if it means risking a little of my own. But I don’t even know where to start. Every time I’ve tried to nudge our conversations off the rails of professionalism, she finds a way to steer them back—a well-timed joke, a rhetorical question, a look that says don’t push your luck, Singleton.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that what happened at the gym wasn’t just a run-in with someone else’s drama. It was a preview of what I might be up against if I ever got my shit together enough to try, really try, with someone like Minji. I’m not afraid of confrontation, but I am terrified of being misunderstood, of missing the moment when everything tipsfrom possibility to disaster. Watching Evelyn and James circle each other like wounded animals made me want to do better, or at least not screw up in the same ways.
CHAPTER 11
MINJI
“Canyou stop pacing back and forth? You’re giving me a headache,” Demi rasps through the phone. “If I could leave and come get you, I would, but you see me? I’m putting on the finishing touches.” She points to the floral arrangement behind her. “You look fine, Minji. The dress looks fantastic on you. ?? ??? (Your body is tea).”
I turn to look at the phone. “Someone’s Korean is getting better.” I smile, genuinely happy with her pronunciation.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time did Aaron say he was picking you up again?”
“He said seven-thirty,” I reply, checking my reflection for what feels like the hundredth time. “Maybe this is too much. Maybe I should change into something less eye-catching.” I haven’t worn a dress without stockings in a long time.
“Don’t you dare!” Demi’s voice rises sharply through the speaker. “I swear, Minji Lee, if you put on one of your lawyer suits, I will leave this venue immediately and drag you back here with that dress on. Hell, if you need me to hype you up, then…that dress is gorgeous on you, and if you don’t wear it tonight, you’ll regret it. The boobs are sitting pretty, your ass looks amazing, and if Aaron doesn’t think about eating that kitty whenhe sees you in that dress, then he is fucking blind,” Demi finishes with a dramatic flourish.
“Demi! Why are you like this? This isn’t a date, remember?”
“Because I’m Demetria, your fave bestie andonlybestie, Lawrence. And sure, Babes, keep telling yourself that it’s not a date.” She adjusts something in the floral arrangement behind her, causing the camera to shake slightly. “Besides, you’ve already done your makeup to match the dress. Changing now would be a crime against beauty.” She points out from over her shoulder.
She has a point. I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time on my appearance tonight. Soft pink eyeshadow that makes my dark eyes look soft and alluring, a swipe of rose-gold highlighter across my cheekbones, and lips painted the exact shade of my dress.
“What if I’m over or underdressed?” I ask, voicing the fear that’s been gnawing at me. “What if everyone else is in jeans and t-shirts with superhero logos?”
Demi rolls her eyes so dramatically, I can practically hear it. “It’s at The Beaufort, Mimi. Nobody shows up to The Beaufort in a damn Batman T-shirt. And all the people I see walking by are dressed to impress. Once again, this isn’t fucking Comic-Con.”
My doorbell rings, sending my heart into my throat. I can feel my body heating up, and my palms start sweating.
“It’s him,” I whisper, suddenly feeling like I might throw up. “He’s early.”
