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Hez tapped his pen on the glass-topped conference room table. Jess sat across from him, brown leather padfolio open on the table in front of her. Savannah occupied the seat at the head of the table. The empty chair opposite her was for Pierre, who hadn’t arrived even though the meeting had been scheduled to start five minutes ago. It was a power move, which Hez would have countered by starting the meeting four minutes and thirty seconds ago. But this wasn’t his meeting—or his father.

The hand-carved oak door swung open, and Pierre walked in. He wore a blue oxford shirt and khaki slacks, in contrast to the suits worn by everyone else. Another power move. A smile creased his tan, handsome face, showing too-perfect teeth. “Ah, there you are. I thought we were having a little chat where I could answer a few questions. I didn’t realize this was a formal meeting.”

He gave a smooth chuckle as he sat. “Y’all look so serious, like a bunch of undergrads interviewing for your first jobs.”

Savannah’s smile was so tight it was almost a grimace. “Thanks for coming.”

She pressed a button on a little control panel in front of her. “We’ll be recording today’s meeting, like all official executive proceedings from now on. This meeting of the Ad Hoc Committee on University Affairs will now come to order.”

Pierre grinned and leaned back in his chair. “All right, Madam President. What’s on the agenda?”

Jess frowned, but Savannah’s expression stayed neutral and professional. “The TGU Extension School. We’re shutting down the current operation and bringing it in-house. We’ll restart it next year under all new management.”

Pierre’s grin vanished. “Only the board can do that!”

Savannah cut her gaze toward Hez. “My lawyer says otherwise.”

Hez nodded. “The university bylaws give the president broad powers to deal with ‘fraud and perfidy’ at the university.”

Pierre eyed him warily. “That’s for cases of cheating on exams and that sort of thing. Why do you think it applies to the Extension School?”

Hez leaned forward. “Because the entire thing is a fraud, Pierre. It charges exorbitant tuition for low-quality taped lectures. The profits are supposed to go into a scholarship fund, but there never are any profits. All the money is sucked up by administrative fees charged by something called Education Management, LLC. Education Management does hardly any actual work. It just takes money that should be going to the scholarship fund.”

Hez fought to keep the anger out of his voice. “Most Extension School students need to take out loans to afford the classes, so they’re getting saddled with enormous debts in return for garbage degrees stamped with the TGU seal.”

Pierre shook his head. “That’s certainly not how Ellison described the Extension School when he founded it. I don’t see what any of this has to do with me, though.”

Hez folded his arms. “We know who owns Education Management, Pierre.”

Pierre looked at him stone-faced. “Do you now?”

“It took a lot of digging, but yes. You did your best to hide it, but we can prove that you, Ellison Abernathy, and Beckett Harrison founded Education Management—and that most of the profits are being funneled into your trust. The final piece of evidence came out of the probate case for Abernathy’s will.”

Hez opened his padfolio and took out a letter on TGU letterhead, which he slid across the table to Pierre. “This is a formal request for the return of all unearned fees. If Education Management doesn’t comply, the university will sue.”

Pierre flicked a glance at the letter, but he didn’t pick it up. He turned to Savannah. “This is completely unacceptable.”

Jess tapped a perfect nail on the tabletop. “You don’t get a vote.”

Pierre kept his eyes on Savannah. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Savannah cleared her throat and swallowed. “The committee’s vote was unanimous.”

Pierre’s face went white and then red. He half rose, planted his palms on the table, and glared at Jess. “You did this! You set this whole thing up!”

She regarded him with icy calm. “I wanted to sue you personally and have the process server deliver the papers in the middle of the night. You can thank your daughter for preventing that.”

Pierre jabbed a finger at Jess. “This is not over!”

Jess’s smile was pure venom. “No. No, it’s not.”

* * *

The sound of jazz echoed from down the street, and the scent of beignets floated from Petit Charms below Hez’s condo. Savannah glanced around the balcony with awe at the romantic space he’d created for dinner. A white linen cloth covered the iron table and candles flickered in the dim light. There were even cushions on the hard chairs.

She turned to smile at him as he came through the sliding glass door. “I’m so glad it’s warm enough to eat outside. What a surprise to see all this.”

He set a tureen beside the salad on the table. “I thought you needed a reward for the rough waters you faced this week.”

She picked up a blue-and-white plate. “Are these your grandmother’s? I wasn’t sure what happened to them.”

“I found them in the garage at my place in Birmingham. I’d forgotten about them.”

Back then he’d forgotten a lot of important things in their lives. She set the plate back in place. “I’ve always loved them.”

He held out the chair for her, and she settled in it. “I remember.”

She caught the aroma of shellfish. “Shrimp bisque?”

He nodded and sat in the chair next to her. “I haven’t made it in a while, but there are some things you never forget.”

She saw other unforgotten things in his eyes: his love for her and their life together, his commitment to make amends, and his regret for all that had led them to this point. Those same things crowded her chest as well. She speared the blackened salmon Caesar salad with its homemade dressing and savored the hit of heat on her tongue. “I haven’t had this since . . .”

“Since we separated,”

he finished for her. “I’ve lived mostly on takeout, and it felt good to be creative in the kitchen.”

He aimed a smile her way. “I’m so proud of how you handled your dad over the Extension School exit. It had to have been hard confronting him with how he’s fleeced TGU.”

“I felt a little like David facing Goliath, but I didn’t back down. Whenever I wanted to waver, I took a quick peek at your face and reminded myself how rock solid your evidence was. People like my dad think they’ll never get caught, and when I saw your expression, I remembered how much evil you’ve taken down in your career. You’re a good example.”

His smile faltered. “Not in everything.”

He lifted the lid of the matching blue-and-white tureen and grasped the ladle. “I found the North Sea shrimp you love. Save room, though. I made mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

She eyed the champagne flutes. Did she dare ask what he planned to put in them? A bottle of something waited on ice in the wine bucket on the other side of the table. She couldn’t read the label. If he pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine, how would she handle it? He couldn’t drink, of course, but what if he offered her a glass? She moistened her lips. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I plan to do that for the rest of our lives.”

He reached for the bottle in the wine bucket. “It’s sparkling water with a hint of citrus. I think you’ll like it.”

He filled their flutes.

Relief made her lightheaded, and she took her drink and sipped it. “Delicious.”

And not alcoholic. Was she always going to be on edge, wondering if he was secretly drinking? The thought of tiptoeing around the topic forever depressed her.

His hand went into his pocket and he fiddled with something, and there was something in his expression she couldn’t quite read. Fear? Hope? He removed his hand and picked up his spoon again.

She reached for her spoon and savored the bisque. “Jess’s rage with Dad practically suffocated us all in that meeting room. I wish I knew how to bring peace between them.”

“Pierre will never apologize. Men like him never take the blame for their actions, so it’s unlikely there can be any resolution.”

“Jess could forgive him even if he doesn’t apologize. Her hatred is destroying her life.”

“Forgiveness is hard.”

He reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb made lazy circles on her palm. “I don’t take your forgiveness for granted. I don’t deserve it, but I’m thankful for it.”

His touch made her forget the delicious food. “And I’m thankful for yours. Not everyone gets a second chance like we have.”

His other hand went to his pocket again. That expression, half hope and half fear, returned. What was he thinking? She pulled her hand back. “I’ll clean up and make coffee since you made dinner.”

She cleared the dishes and tableware and carried them into the kitchen. He’d cleaned up as he went, like usual, and all she had to do was load the dishwasher. The trash caught her attention. No. She put coffee beans in the grinder and removed the old filter with its grounds. It had to go into the trash though, so she pressed her toe on the lever to open the lid. No wine bottles were in the nearly empty bag when she dumped the filter into it, and she almost gasped with relief.

Of course he wasn’t drinking. The bottle last time had been a fluke. He didn’t even remember it. Her gaze cut to the recycling bin. Before she could stop herself, she lifted the lid and peeked inside. No bottles there either. But would he drink if he knew she was coming? No, he’d be careful. She moved to the pantry cabinet and found nothing but pasta and canned goods.

“Looking for something?”

She whirled with her hand to her throat. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and her tongue went dry. “Y-you scared me.”

“You still think I’m drinking, don’t you? Savannah, I’m not.”

His mouth flattened to a hard line, but his blue eyes held a depth of sadness that broke her heart. She couldn’t lie to him. “I’m sorry, Hez,”

she whispered. “I’m worried.”

He regarded her with that heartbroken expression for a long moment as his hand went to his pocket again. He gave a slight shake to his head and pulled his hand out. “I think you’re right, and we should start counseling. We clearly have trust issues we need to resolve.”

When he left the kitchen, she exhaled and went on wobbly legs to sit on a stool at the island. What was she supposed to do—put on rose-colored glasses and ignore the past? She wished she could.