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Dayton

Hey. How are you doing? I drove by UNYC the other day and thought of you. Miss you. Can we chat?

Dayton

By the way, this may be an odd ask, but when you mailed back my stuff back then, did you come across the hard drive? I forgot to grab some stuff off it.

My brows pinch at his messages, and I remember the drive he tossed me with the photos that I backed up to my own backup drive. Shit, I think it’s still at my place.

While Dayton and I hadn’t parted on the best terms, we still shared a lot of good memories together. The last I heard, he took over his family’s fledging business after he graduated from Columbia.

The quaint cafe with its redwood exterior and gold lettering on windows, beckons me from the distance as a few raindrops land on my nose. I glance up, noticing the low-hanging clouds and the quickly darkening skies.

I hurry to the door, yank it open, and am met with a gust of warm air and the smell of freshly baked breads and cinnamon buns. Scanning the small space, my feet come to an abrupt halt when I see him.

With a beautiful woman.

Svelte, shiny mahogany hair, leggy, with more curves than I could ever hope for. She looks like she just stepped out of aVoguecenterfold. He’s smiling at her, a dimple flashing on his cheek.

She giggles the way beautiful models do—womanly, sultry, and sexy all rolled into one and Ethan shakes his head in clear amusement.

An ugly, corrosive sensation moves through me and my jaw tightens.

I march forward and drop my bag into the empty chair next to him as they look at me.

“Ethan, I didn’t know you were early. You should’ve told me.” I give him my sweetest smile before leaning in to give him a quick peck.

His breath stalls and I bite back a grin before pulling back. Then I make a show at eyeing the woman who seems like she wants to dig her perfectly manicured nails into my skin and draw blood.

“Hi, I’m Alexis Vaughn, and you are?”

Her eyes widen at the last name and a pinch of guilt slices through me. I don’t like name dropping but dammit, I’m petty today.

Ethan slides away from me, that little motion a slap in the face. “Alexis, this is Cleo Marchetti. She’s a…friend.”

“More than friends, I think?” She smiles adoringly at him and touches his arm. She’s his ex. I’m sure of it. The woman he talked about in his letters. The wonderful, beautiful ex-girlfriend who loved him. The woman who’d kissed him, touched him, slept with him before.

She doesn’t move her hand, her fingers absentmindedly tracing a vein on his forearm. I want to slap it away, but I hold myself back.I’m better than this.

“I ran into Cleo after I sat down.” Ethan shifts in his seat and pulls his arm away, clearly uncomfortable with the female version of the dick-measuring contest.

“No need to explain, Dels.” His eyes widen at my usage of his middle name. “I love meeting yourfriends.”

“I was thinking how lucky I ran into Ethan here today. My agency is hosting a fundraising ball for the holidays to raise funds for literacy programs. The first person I thought of was him, of course, since he loves books so much. And if he attends as an Anderson, we can shine a lot of attention to the cause.”

Ethan flushes and kneads the back of his neck. “You still remembered.”

The green monster is pounding its grubby hands on my chest.

She knows he likes books too? Does he write her love poems too?

“So, what do you think? It’s in three weeks. Come to the event?”With me?The words are unsaid, but I hear them loud and clear. She glances at me and I can see the gears working in her head. Who am I to Ethan Anderson?

Damn good question.

“I’ll check my schedule and contact you.” Ethan stands, a signal to Cleo, which she smartly accepts. “It’s nice seeing you again. You look great.” He gives her a hug.

Anger churns through me at his soft voice and how he lets her cling on to him for a few seconds longer than friendly.