“A while.” Her professional tone was back. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want her to talk to me like that.
“How long is a while?”
“Ten years.”
“Ten years?” I repeated. “Seriously?”
“What?” she asked defensively.
I was happy that “Business Tone Barbie” was gone, and real Peyton was back, even if she was irritated at me. I’d take a pissed off Peyton over a guarded Peyton any day of the week.
“Nothing.” I held up my hands in surrender.
Ten years. That was a long time, labels or not. Not that it mattered. Nothing was going to happen between us.
She left. She didn’t call. She disappeared from my life. The first few months that she was gone had been excruciating. Time had lessened the pain a little bit. But every single fucking day, my heart had a dull ache.
I clearly wasn’t over her. Everyone knew it. Alex texted me the second he saw that she was listed as an attendee. Nick tried to fly back from New York to make it to the reunion just in case she was there. My baby mama had nicknamed her the acronym for the-one-that-got-away, for fuck’s sake. Hell, even Ryan felt bad when I’d said she hadn’t shown up.
That’s who she was to me. Why would I rub salt in a wound? Which is exactly what would happen if I opened myself up to her again.
But fuck, she did look good in that dress. And then there were her eyes, her lips, her hair, her voice. I’d missed her so fucking much. It was as if all these years I’d held those feelings at bay, and now the dam had burst and they were flooding through me.
I knew that I should drop it, but I couldn’t. I needed to know how serious they were, labels or not. “So, are you two exclusive?”
There was a long pause before she looked down at her drink and answered, “No.”
Hmm.That was interesting. “You date other people?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Okay, do you date other people?” I rephrased the question.
She turned to look at me. “Why?”
“Just catching up.”
A soft sigh fell from her lips as she turned her attention back down to her glass. “No.”
“Does he?”
Her left shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I don’t ask.”
What the fuck? How was that a thing?
In an attempt to hide my actual feelings on the subject, I said, “Ah, the old don’t ask, don’t tell policy.”
Her eyes shot to mine, and I could see that she didn’t find my joke funny. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you exclusive with anyone?”
“No.”
“Dating?”
“No.”
