“There’s no problem,” he heard himself say.
Devney studied his face. “You’re sure?”
“We dated in high school.” The words came out flat, professional, like he was reporting quarterly earnings instead of excavating ancient history. “Seeing her at your wedding was unexpected. Her food was excellent. Her company is clearly successful. There’s no reason to make this complicated.”
“You dated,” Devney repeated, the way someone might repeat coordinates before launching a missile.
“A long time ago.”
Devney let the silence stretch, and Gabriel watched her decide not to push. For now.
“Okay,” she said. “But Gabriel, if at any point this becomes a problem, I want to know.”
“It won’t.” He stood, coffee abandoned. “I should get back to my office before?—”
The conference room door opened, and Tessa walked in.
She stopped in the doorway. The color left her face, and then she pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin a quarter inch—the same way she had lifted it in calculus when a kid two rows back had whispered something about her blazer—and turned to Devney. “I’m early. Traffic was kind.”
“You aren’t,” Devney said warmly. “You’re exactly on time. Gabriel and I were finishing up. Come in.”
Tessa stepped inside. The black blazer fit her like she owned every room she had ever walked into. She set her tablet down at the head of the table, glanced once at Gabriel, and then back at Devney.
Devney’s phone buzzed. “That’s Ronan. Coffee’s taking longer than expected. Knox and Ronan will be here in five minutes.” She gathered her things, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I need to grab those venue photos from my office. You two can catch up while I’m gone.”
She left before either of them could protest. The door clicked shut behind her.
Tessa crossed to the window and turned, and her gaze met his with the steadiness of a woman who had spent years deciding she’d never look away first.
“Hello, Mr. Sterling.”
“Hello, Ms. Thorne.”
She glanced at the empty chair Devney had left. “Clearly, she knows we have a history. How have you been?”
“Honestly? I was better before Saturday.”
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Fair.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For Saturday. I shouldn’t have?—“
“Said my name out loud in front of two hundred people?”
“That.”
“I dropped a tray of Veuve Clicquot.” Her mouth twitched. “I think we’re even on humiliations.”
“I wouldn’t call yours a humiliation.”
“That’s generous of you.” She drew a breath and straightened the tablet on the table in front of her, the motion precise and unnecessary. “Mr. Sterling, I run a successful business, and so do you. We can be in the same room without it being a story. Can we agree on that?”
“Yes, but you can call me Gabriel. We were friends once.”
“Okay, good.” She picked up her tablet. “Then let’s run a meeting, Gabriel.”
The door opened. Knox walked in first, Ronan a step behind, Devney bringing up the rear with an armload of folders.
“Sorry, sorry,” Devney said. “The printer ate my venue photos. Twice. I think it has a personal vendetta.” She made quick introductions. “Ronan, Knox, this is Tessa Thorne of Thorne Events. Tessa, my husband Ronan, and our CFO Knox Knightly.”
