The silence that spins out is just long enough for humiliation to bloom. I want to duck behind the HVAC or go back to the elevator and disappear, but then Aaron speaks.
“Friends?” He lets out a sigh of disbelief, or could it be annoyance? “I’m not going to lie, Minji. I don’t want to be‘just friends’with you.” He clears his throat. “But you hurt me on Friday night and when you kicked me out, that fucked me up. I’ve never had anyone do that before. Growing up in an orphanage, I spent my whole life not being wanted, so you doing that to me now reminds me of why I don’t put myself out there in the first place. It’s not about being rejected; it’s about knowing that someone could let me in and then decide I’m not worth the risk.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “You sure know how to make a brother feel like shit.” His knuckles pale on the metal railing as he squeezes it. “Look, I have a meeting with Jasmyn regarding a case she handled in the past. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight to finish this conversation?”
Damn. I really fucked up, but he wants to have dinner, so I guess not all is lost. I nod, feeling a mix of relief and dread in my chest. We don’t hug, shake hands, or move closer, but something major shifts.
I don’t accomplishanything for the rest of the day. The strange part is, I’m not even fixated on Aaron. Instead, I’m haunted by what I just confessed, hearing my own voice—raw and embarrassing. It’s late afternoon when Eliza peeks in, finds me staring at my darkened computer screen as if I expect case law to appear by some magic, and she brings me a chai latte I hadn’t realized I wanted. At six, a calendar invite pops up on my phone:Dinner, 7:30, Ophelia’s Rooftop.I bolt home and trade my power suit for something softer— jeans, a white tee, and my favorite yellow cardigan.
The cab drops me two blocks down, so I walk the rest of the way, heart thumping with every stride. Ophelia’s dress code isn’t strict, nor is the place as fancy as I thought it would be. Thankfully, I went with casual clothes rather than my suit. The host leads me to a table with a purple-lit view over the river, and there’s Aaron, already waiting. There’s a glass of whiskey untouched at his elbow. He looks good. Not in the runway or athletic way his brothers do, but good in the sense that he fits perfectly into the low lights and dark wood, a man completely unfazed by other people’s stares.
“You came.” He sounds relieved. For once, he doesn’t mask it. I’m happy to know that I’m not the only one who is somewhat affected by what is happening right now.
“You invited me,” I answer.
He pushes a menu my way, waits until I’ve scanned the cocktail page, and then says: “Can we try this again? No ghosting. No games. From the very beginning.”
He doesn’t mean the relationship; he means the conversation. But maybe, in some way, he means both.
I order the first drink that looks sufficiently strong, because that is what I am going to need. “Let’s do it the lawyer way. Full disclosure. No omissions.”
Aaron shifts in his seat, his fingers forming a temple before collapsing, then rebuilding again. “I like you, Minji. No—that’s not right.” He rubs his temple. “I’m furious with you, but I still want you. I respect you professionally, but I’m terrified of what you’ll do to me again. Now, I want to clear things up because I know there might be doubts about my feelings, especially since I’ve been engaged.” He pauses to breathe deeply. His fingertip circles the edge of his glass, hypnotic.
“After you disappeared—” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “My brother said I was like an infant crying for months after losing its bottle. Then Vanessa came along, and I thought I’d found someone permanent. I told myself she was perfect.” Light dances through the amber liquid as he tilts his drink. “But she only saw me as a resource. I accepted it because I mistook gratitude for love. I was just relieved someone stayed. When it ended, I felt both free and devastated, especially discovering she’d been unfaithful throughout.”
“Then why propose?” I ask, realizing my voice has dropped low, like I’m asking a question I would rather no one ever answer.
“I’ve always wanted a family—to feel loved and wanted, to belong to someone. I suppose I thought a ring might be the way to secure that.” His gaze shifts to the skyline, jaw clenched, revealing more vulnerability than I’ve seen before. “I didn’t want to lose her like I lost you. I know it sounds foolish, but back then, even though I’d only known you for two months, I was completely smitten. I had a feeling I could spend the rest of my life with you.”
Before our conversation can continue, the food arrives and neither of us so much as glances at it. I agree with Aaron thatwhatever happened over those two months definitely made me think about being with him forever. When the waiter leaves, I expect Aaron to pick up where we left off, but instead, he lifts his glass.
“Enough about the past, here is to new beginnings, then?”
I hesitate, then raise mine to clink it softly against his. “To new beginnings.”
“I think we need ground rules, then. Before we move forward and you decide to ghost me again.” He puts his glass down. “Rule one: No ghosting. Rule two: If one of us needs out, we use words. Like actual adults.” He raises an eyebrow.Is he implying I wasn’t being an adult?I’ll let it slide this one time.
“Rule three?” I prompt.
He grins, and for the first time since that night in my bed, I see the old Aaron who looked at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. “Rule three: Sex doesn’t count as an apology, but it’s highly encouraged if we’re both into it.”
“To friendship.” I raise my drink.
“And to the amazing sex we are going to have in this friendship.” He raises his glass, and we toast to immaturity, to adulthood, to whatever this is that exists in between.
Over the next few hours, we simply talk, enjoying each other’s company. He shares that he’s begun writing a new book and worries it might come across as too insta-love for his readers. I open up about the cases that haunt me, especially those that end badly despite the law being on my side. By dessert, with bourbon and adrenaline in our systems, I finally voice my thoughts: “I’m still scared, and I probably will self-sabotage this talking stage.”
“Good. If we’re both scared, we can keep each other honest, and I’ll make sure to call you out on your bullshit, and I expect you to do the same for me.”
At the end of the night, he walks me outside, and I’m not sure what happens next. The air is electric, the wind off the water wild, and I feel my old self threatening to retreat. I brace myself for a hug-and-cheek-kiss combo, but Aaron pulls me close, slides a hand around my waist, and kisses me long and slow. My first thought coming to this dinner was that I wasn’t going to leave here with us ending up in bed together yet…
“You want to come over?” I whisper against his lips.
“Only if you promise to let me stay the night this time.”
CHAPTER 17
AARON
The entire taxiride is quiet. I keep my eyes on the city, lit up in streaks of traffic and rain, pretending I’m not watching for her reflection in the window. Minji is composed to the point of parody: back pin-straight, hands folded over her purse, jaw set in that particular way that says she is running through every possible scenario at triple speed. Underneath it, her foot taps with unconscious energy, and her eyes dart to the meter, to the windshield, to the street outside, chasing something she obviously doesn’t want to say.
