Page 62 of The Sweetest Return

I thought of the woman I had seen beside him in photos. I wondered if she had loved him well. I wondered if he had let her. I did not ask.

His eyes searched mine. “What about you?”

I thought of Damien’s text waiting in my phone and the reply I had finally sent before coming outside.

It’s over for good. I’m sorry I let it stretch this long.

“Recently ended something.”

Dre nodded slowly.

“Recent like complicated?” he asked.

“Recent like done.”

“Okay.”

His eyes changed, darkened in a way that made my stomach pull tight because we both heard what sat underneath it.

No woman waiting on him. No man waiting on me.

Nothing between us but old hurt, bad timing, too much want, and whatever sense we could manage to scrape together in public.

His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before lifting again.

Eight years should have taken some of this heat from us. It hadn’t.

That was the part I had not prepared for.

I still wanted him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The suite door shut behind me, and for the first time since I stepped onto AWU’s Yard that morning, nobody was saying my name.

The Nocturne’s Presidential Suite took up the corner of the top floor, all dark wood, brass fixtures, soft rugs, and a view of Pittsburgh that made the city look calmer than it ever actually was.

My jacket came off first.

Then my shoes.

My left knee had opinions about the day, but nothing loud enough to stop me from getting through the night. Not after the Yard. Not after Imani. Not after sitting beside her in folding chairs with her thigh close to mine, smelling her perfume in the breeze, watching her eyes catch sunlight every time she laughed and then go serious when she thought I was leaving something unsaid.

I should have been thinking about the award.

Instead, I kept thinking about her.

I wrapped my knee, started the compression unit, and sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand.

No missed emergencies.

That alone felt like a blessing.

Before I left for Crown Weekend, my managers had all promised they would give me a few days unless something major happened. Deja and Chuck at Jones Motor Group swore the dealership would survive without me stepping into every service issue like the building might collapse if I didn’t personally check the paperwork. Avery at North & Vine told me the restaurant could make it through a fall weekend without me asking three times about reservations and the short rib. Darnell at Jones Outdoor sent one text that said, Your daddy already stopped by and told us what we did wrong. You are no longer needed.

I had laughed when I read it.

Then stared at the message longer than necessary because the truth was sitting right there being rude.