“We better hurry,” Corbin says, glancing up at the sky as we load our canvases into the trunk. “Looks like a storm’s rolling in.”
As we slide into the car, Corbin pulls out his phone and places an order at our favorite sushi place.
I listen as he rattles off my exact order down to the extra soy sauce and no wasabi.
He pauses before confirming. “Still the same?”
I nod, surprised. “Youremembered?”
His eyes meet mine, filled with something I can’t quite name. “Of course, I did.”
The storm crackles in the distance, but somehow, I feel nothing but warm.
We pick up the food, and Corbin insists on paying. The rain starts as a light drizzle, but by the time we step outside, thick droplets pelt down from the sky.
“Run!” Corbin laughs as he tucks the to-go bag under his arm, trying to keep it steady while we sprint through the downpour.
Water soaks through my blouse almost instantly, cold against my skin. My hair sticks to my face as we dive into the car, both of us breathless and laughing. The sound is easy, natural, something I haven’t heard in far too long.
Corbin turns on the car, the heater kicking in with a low hum. He glances over at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Your place or mine?”
I hesitate for a second, studying him.
Yours.The answer comes without thinking.
“Yours,” I say aloud.
A flicker of something moves through his eyes before he nods and backs out of the parking lot, heading toward his house—ourhouse.
A pang of nostalgia cuts through me as I watch the streetlights blur past. The night of the gala—the night that sealed the fate of our marriage—feels like a lifetime ago, and yet the weight of it still lingers. We should have been a team. We should have fought harder. But maybe the time apart was necessary. Maybe it allowed us to become the people we were always meant to be.
Lightning flashes across the sky just as Corbin pulls into the driveway.
“You ready to make a run for it?” he asks, one hand already on the door handle.
I nod, gripping my own handle, my purse slung over my shoulder in preparation. The second we push the doors open, thunder cracks overhead, and we dash up the walkway, rain drenching us even further. I take the food from Corbin as he fumbles with the keys, hands slick with rain.
By the time we tumble inside, my teeth are chattering, my clothes plastered to my skin.
“You’re freezing,” Corbin notes, watching the way my arms instinctively wrap around myself. He sets the food in the fridge and gestures toward the stairs. “Come on.”
I lick my lips, my pulse hammering as I follow him upstairs. The air between us thickens with something charged but impossible to ignore.
In his bedroom, Corbin flicks on the light, casting the space in a soft glow. He heads straight for the bathroom and turns on the shower, steam already curling from behind the glass door.
“You need to warm up,” he says, his voice low.
We both do.
The words leave my lips before I can second-guess them. They sound bolder than I feel, but I don’t take them back.
Instead, I reach for the buttons of my blouse. My fingers shake. Not just from the cold.
Corbin watches me, his face hard to read.
I strip the wet fabric from my shoulders, the air instantly raising goosebumps on my skin. My hands find the button of my jeans next, tugging them down my damp legs before stepping toward him.
“Jules,” he says softly, almost like a warning.
