I shake my head. “I have some papers to grade tonight.”
He rubs the back of his neck—an old tell, familiar enough to tug at something soft in my chest. “Would you want to grab a coffee?”
It’s tentative, an olive branch. He’s asking in a way that allows me to say no gracefully but I find myself saying, “I’d like that.”
“I’ll meet you at The Honeyed Hearth?”
“See you soon.” As he heads out the door, I call out, “See if you can get a table by the window.”
Eighteen minutes later, he’s wrapping his fingers around a mug of honey latte. “So, this is happily unexpected.”
“I agree.”
“I’m trying to do things differently.”
I study him. “How so?”
He doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t joke. “You know how I started therapy? Well, it turns out I’m very good at seeking validation and very bad at understanding what drives that.”
I consider what he said before nodding. “That makes sense.”
“I’ve learned a lot about myself in a short time.”
“Such as?”
“I used to make decisions based on what was popular, not what was right.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “That’s not easy to address.”
“No, because I’ve been doing it longer than I care to admit.”
I study Brennan closely—not the boy I loved who hurt me—but the person in front of me now. I understand my need to say goodbye to the boy he was. Like the girl I was, that boy is gone. But the man in front of me was obviously affected by our separation, too. “I’m glad you shared that.”
“I just wanted you to know…” his voice trails off.
“What?”
“I heard you that night.” Our eyes hold, and I feel the same spark I did in my apartment when I decided to kiss him goodbye and it led to so much more. “I know our past is gone. But maybe…”
I raise my brows.
His gaze is steady. “Maybe we can get to know who we are now.”
It isn’t recriminations driving him to ask but something deeper. That both scares me and excites me. I lift my drink before remarking, “Why don’t we see how coffee goes?”
He relaxes. “Sounds good.”
We talk for about an hour. About my students. About his life now. About his family and mine. When we finally stand to leave, I blurt out, “You’ve changed.”
“So have you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I wonder.
“I think, for both of us, it’s too new to tell.”
His words give me pause. “You’re right.”
He hesitates before asking, “Want to do this again?”
