Page 38 of A Simple Reminder

“Don’t worry about this. I’ll fix it.” Her tone is light, offering Jared a small smile. “It’s late, go home to your cat or whatever that creature is.”

Jared chuckles, relieved. “It’s a Sphynx. Thanks, Sophie. Bye, boss,” he adds with a nod in my direction. Then he finally leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving just Sophie and me in the office, surrounded by piles of papers and an uncomfortable silence.

I glance at my watch—fuck. Midnight again. Sophie’s still sitting across from me, her brows furrowed in concentration as she studies the blueprints. Her hair’s slipped loose from its tie, and she absently brushes a strand behind her ear, oblivious to the time. We’ve been at this for hours, and I know for a fact she hasn’t eaten since lunch.

I stare at the paper in front of me, pretending to review it, even though I signed it thirty minutes ago. My eyes keep drifting to her, to the way her pencil taps lightly against the table, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. She won’t stop unless I say something.

I move to her side, silently helping her organize the mess. The silence between us is thick, and I just don’t know what to say. You could probably hear a pin drop.

Every few moments, she glances up at me, her expression unreadable. I do everything I can to avoid meeting her gaze, focusing instead on my hands, methodically stacking papers, pretending I don’t notice the goosebumps prickling along my skin.

When the last of the papers are neatly tucked into her folders, I move to what’s important. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. I know the best pizza place.”

“It’s midnight,” she says, raising an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“I know,” I reply, my tone softening further. “But we haven’t had dinner, and you need to eat.” I know how she gets when she’s focused. When she was studying for tests, I had to remind her to eat almost every day. In some strange way, it’s comforting—like no matter how much has changed, some things about Sophie are still the same. As if she might still need me.

She hesitates, then smiles, the tension easing just slightly. “Okay, but only because I’m starving.”

The pizza place is only a few blocks away, a little hole-in-the-wall that’s been my favorite for years. It’s the kind of place that feels like a secret, even though everyone who’s anyone in New York knows about it. Every time I’m in the city, I make it a point to come here to indulge in their Neapolitan spicy salami pizza—two big, delicious slices that taste like nostalgia and comfort. Tonight, I’m sharing it with Sophie, and that thought alone makes this place feel different, more special.

“So, what do you think?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but there’s an edge of nervousness I can’t quite hide. I shouldn’t care so much. It’s strange, but right now, I want her to love what I love. To share something that’s been mine for so long.

She pauses, the half-eaten slice hovering near her lips, and then looks at me with those bright eyes. “This is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” She takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the one who brought me here.”

“How have I never known about this place?” It’s more of a statement than a question, and I can’t help but chuckle, taking a sip of my beer to hide the stupid grin spreading across my face. God, she’s adorable when she’s like this—so sincere and unguarded, as if the years between us haven’t changed a thing. It makes me feel like we’re not so different from who we used to be, even though I know things have shifted. But in this moment, with her laughing, sharing a meal like we used to, it feels like nothing’s ever been lost.

We eat in comfortable silence, the kind that just feels natural, like we’re slipping into a rhythm neither of us forgot. Now and then, our eyes meet over the table, and it feels good. It feels as though we are closing in on making amends. She smiles at me, hiding the beauty of it behind her slice, and I catch the blush that starts spreading on her cheeks. She’s so fucking cute. There’s something about the way she looks right now, all unguarded and real, that just makes me want to hold onto this moment forever.

When we finish, I pay the bill, and we step out into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, the city settling into that late-night hush where everything feels a bit softer, a bit more intimate. “I’ll walk you home,” I offer, not really giving her a choice because the idea of parting ways right now doesn’t sit well with me. She’s not getting in a taxi or walking home alone at this time. Also, I want more time with her, even if it’s just a few extra minutes of walking side by side in the stillness of the night.

“You don’t have to,” she says, but there’s no resistance in her voice, only a quiet acceptance. She knows me well enough to understand that once I’ve made up my mind, there’s no changing it.

“I know,” I reply, smiling down at her, feeling something unfurling in my chest. “But I want to.”

I fall into step beside her, and every damn thing around me sharpens. Every sound, every movement, even the way her hand brushes mine—hell, it’s like a magnet pulling me in. My fingers twitch, itching to take her hand, to see if it still fits in mine the way it used to. But I don’t. Not anymore. Because we’re not who we used to be, and I’m not a fool to pretend otherwise.

I sound like a damn idiot.

By the time we reach her building, the night feels like it’s slipping through my fingers—too fast. It’s not enough. It never is.

I stop in front of the door, the weight of the moment settling in. I’m not ready to say goodbye—not ready to let go of this fleeting piece of something that feels too good to end. She turns toward me, the streetlight catching her face, making everything about her glow softly, almost impossibly perfect. But it’s the way her eyes shift—there’s a vulnerability there, a softness I’ve never seen from her before. It’s like the night itself has peeled away the armor she’s so damn good at wearing, leaving behind something raw, real.

Something she hides, not just from the world, but from me.

“Thanks for the pizza,” she says, her voice low, almost like she’s testing the air, hesitant, as if there’s more she wants to say but can’t find the words.

“Anytime,” I reply, and I mean it. I’d take her here every night if it meant we could keep doing this, keep pretending we’re not both aching for more.

But before she can turn away, I feel it—something pushing at my chest, the words bubbling up before I can stop them.

“So, can I ask you something?” The question hangs in the air, and I watch her expression shift, the ease slipping away as her guard goes up. Just like that, she goes from open and relaxed to something... tentative.

“Sure,” she replies, voice steady but guarded, like she already knows what’s coming. Like she’s bracing herself.

My heart pounds in my chest, the dread curling in my stomach. But I can’t stop it. The need for answers claws at me, sharp and insistent. I know it’s irrational, that it’s none of my damn business. But the thought of her walking through all of this again—of her getting hurt, and me not understanding why—hell, it eats at me.

“What happened between you and Jared?”

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