Back then, loving Hayden had felt explosive.It was chaotic and all-consuming.Now?Now it feels deeper.It’s quieter, although still terrifying but in entirely different ways.
Because this time we know exactly how much we can hurt each other.And somehow, we chose to love each other again anyway.
Tears sting behind my eyes.God, I miss him.The realization lands hard enough that I reach for my phone before I can overthink myself out of it.My fingers hover over the screen for several long seconds.Then I type and hit send, my heart in my throat.
I miss you.Dinner?
I stare at the message afterward, pulse thudding hard against my ribs.No taking it back now.The typing bubble appears in less than three seconds.Which means he was already holding the phone.He’s just been waiting.My chest cracks open at the thought.
Then his reply appears.
Just tell me when and where.
When I step into La Scarola the next night, my heart is beating hard enough to feel embarrassing.Which is ridiculous.I’ve known Hayden most of my life, and loved him in two different decades.I’ve slept in his bed more nights than I can count over the last few months, yet somehow tonight feels more terrifying than any of that ever did.
The restaurant is warm against the cold Chicago night outside.Sinatra hums through the low lighting, conversation and clinking glasses surround me when I walk in.And there he is.Already waiting.For one suspended second, all I can do is stare at him.
Hayden sits alone in the corner booth we always gravitate toward, a dark navy sweater stretched across broad shoulders, one hand wrapped around a whiskey glass while the other rests against his jaw.
He looks devastating.More than I remember somehow.But he also looks tired.Like the last week carved something deep into his soul.
His eyes lift the second I step fully into the restaurant.And everything else disappears in an instant; the room, the music, the people.It’s just Hayden and me and the entire painful week stretched out between us.
Something shifts visibly across his face when he sees me.I think it’s relief, and it looks so raw that it almost undoes me.He stands as I approach the table, and for maybe the first time since I’ve known him, Hayden Sloane looks uncertain and nervous.Two traits I’ve yet to experience with him.
“Hey,” I greet, my voice soft.
“Hey.”The word comes rougher than usual.For one awkward second, neither of us seems to know what should happen next.Do we hug?We’re not familiar with this careful politeness and it’s horrible.
But then Hayden steps closer and settles one warm hand against my waist before pressing a soft kiss against my cheek.The touch is gentle and bit tentative.Like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.My chest physically aches at how careful he’s being.
“You look beautiful,” he states as he slides into the booth across from me instead of beside me.That hurts more than I expect too.
I swallow hard.“You look tired.”
“Yeah.”One corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction.“Sleeping has been a challenge.”Honest, he’s always so honest.
The waiter appears before the moment can become too overwhelming, and pours our usual red wine and asks questions about what we’d like for dinner that evening.I let Hayden order.I didn’t come for the food.
And then… awkwardness.Not terrible awkwardness, just a quiet between us that’s not normal.Like both of us are trying to figure out what version of ourselves exists right now.Hayden watches me over the candlelight for another long second before speaking.
“How are you?”The question catches me off guard because he doesn’t ask if I’m still angry, or if we’re okay.He wants to know how I am.
I stare down at the tablecloth before answering honestly.“Sad.”
His expression tightens on a nod.“Yeah,” his voice low, “me too.”
The simplicity of it nearly wrecks me.No defensiveness or ego attached to the answer.Just more truth.
“I miss you.”I admit before I can lose the nerve.Something flashes across his face so fast it almost hurts to look at.
“Nessa,” his voice roughens around my name.“I’ve missed you every single second of every single hour of every single day of the past week.”
God.The air between us suddenly feels too thin.Hayden scrapes one hand over his jaw before looking down at the whiskey in front of him and then back up at me.“I’ve spent the last week realizing how many parts of my life revolve around you now.”
Emotion catches in my throat, because I know exactly what he means.
“The apartment feels wrong without you in it,” he continues, a frown forming on his mouth.“Everything does.”
