I nod, but say nothing.
“I was so nervous you were…” She trails off before leaning in co-conspiratorially. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks, and I thought this thing might not be exclusive when you answered the door.” Her eyes drift to my messy curls. My wrinkled blouse. My shoes, slipped on in a hurry. I hate how naked I feel under her stare. She continues, “He’s very hard to read. He’s so aloof sometimes. Anything else I should know about him?”
She thinks I have insider knowledge. That I’m somehow in control here.
“He’s not big on commitment.” I force a helpless shrug. Corbin hasn’t mentioned he’s seeing anyone. If he had, I never would have gotten into bed with him last night. I know I wouldn't have. Wine or no wine. I feel so incredibly dumb right now.
“But he married you, didn’t he?”
A sharp twinge cuts through me, but I smirk like it’s all so damn funny.
“And then divorced me.” The words sting more than I expect. I pat her shoulder. “I have to get going. See you around… uh, what’s your name?“
“Susan,” she replies with a nervous laugh.
Susan.
“Well,” I click my tongue, “good luck in there.”
And with that, I slip out the front door and hurry to my car.
When I slide into the driver’s seat, something pulls me back. I glance at the house.
Corbin’s standing on the front porch, his hands in his pockets, his expression… unreadable.
Chapter Two
Corbin
I’ve been sitting in front of Jules’ coffee shop for the past hour, trying to work up the nerve to go inside.
She said she’d stay for breakfast. But then she slipped out the first chance she got.
The look on Tate’s face when I told him she had an unexpected call and couldn’t stay? Vexing, to say the least.
Jules is flighty and disorganized. She loses track of time, misplaces her keys, and leaves paint-streaked coffee mugs in the oddest places. She doesn’t like confrontation. Or black coffee. She likes dance parties in the kitchen and creamer with a splash of coffee. Bonus points if there’s whipped cream and sprinkles on top.
Her world is magical. Mine is mundane.
That’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with her. She was free and fun, whereas I’ve always been focused and flat.
When we were married, we balanced each other out. I made her more responsible. She made me remarkable. I felt like I could conquer the world when she loved me. But the day she stopped? I knew I couldn’t cage her in any longer. I didn’t want to dim her creativity or force her to conform to my expectations. Or anyone else’s for that matter.
I wanted her to be happy.
I still do.
When she knocked on my door last night, I couldn’t resist inviting her in. Couldn’t resist offering her a glass of wine from the bottle I’d just opened. Couldn’t resist running my fingers through her hair as she talked to me about expanding the coffee shop. About her dreams. About life.
I haven’t been privy to those details for the past two years.
I just couldn’t resist.
I didn’t expect her to kiss me. Didn’t expect her to keep kissing me, even as she mumbled that we should stop. And then she was in my bed. And I—
My phone dings.
I run a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.
