Page 10 of More Than We Know

I knew it the moment I saw her across the club last night, but I should have known it before then, should have known it when she was the one person I never let myself think about too much. When I moved back to Chicago, I told myself I was returning for the city, for the familiarity of home. But if I’m really honest, a small part of me had wondered if I’d ever see her again.

Now she’s here, sitting across from me in this little coffee shop, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, looking just as beautiful as she did twenty years ago. More, even. She still has that natural grace and kindness in her eyes, but now the years of experience and life have given her a complexity that makes me want to unravel every thought behind those eyes.

She taps her nails on the side of her coffee mug, clearly nervous and lost in her thoughts.

I’m not sure what I expected when I agreed to meet her, but I told myself I had to be careful. Keep things clear. I need to keep my boundaries firm, because if I let her in again only to lose her, I don’t know if I could take it.

“So,” she says with a small, tentative smile. “I feel like I should be asking you a million questions, but I don’t even know where to start.”

I return her smile and take a sip of my coffee. “Start anywhere. Anything you want to know.”

She nods, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay… What have you been up to all these years? I know you said last night that you traveled a lot, but where did you go?”

I settle back in my chair, letting the familiarity between us take the edge off my nerves. “Everywhere, really. As you know, I went to Washington first, not far from Seattle.” Her lips turn up in a sad smile, because the statement is heavy with what’s unsaid.You could have gone with me. I rattle off a few more states. “I did a lot of freelance work. Lived out of a suitcase for a long time. It was exciting, but after a while, I wanted something a little more stable.” I pause, running my fingers along the rim of my mug. “And, well, I just got out of a relationship a few months ago, so it felt like the right time to come home.”

Sarah’s expression softens. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

I shrug. “It was for the best. Chicago still feels like home, even after all these years.”

She smiles at that, and I wonder if she feels even a fraction of what I’m feeling—this odd pull between the past and the present, between distance and closeness. Between knowing I should be careful and wanting to throw caution to the wind.

Sarah inhales in a way that shows me she’s about to admit something, and I know whatever she’s about to say next is the real reason she asked me to meet her.

“I, uh, wanted to be honest with you about something,” she says. “Quentin and I talked after our night at the club. About you.”

I raise my eyebrows and wonder where the hell this is going to lead. “Oh?” I prompt.

“I told him about our past—about you and me. And I admitted I might still have some unresolved feelings about you. Obviously, I’m not going to assume you still have any feelings like that for me, but—”

I cut her off. “I do.”

Her eyes widen at the straightforward admission, but it’s true. I wasn’t going to tell her that considering she’s married, and I don’t want to make any waves, but if she can admit it, so can I.

“Well, in that case… Quentin and I talked about it a lot, and he said he’d be okay with me exploring things with you if that’s what I wanted to do.”

I blink. A slow, measured inhale is the only thing that keeps me from immediately reacting.

Of course. Of course, this is what’s happening. Married couples do this all the time—find a bisexual woman to toy with, to experiment with before ultimately going back to their regular, monogamous lives. I’ve seen it before. I’ve been in it before. And every time, it’s ended with me being the one left standing in the aftermath, wondering if I was ever more than just a thrill, just a phase to get out of their systems.

But Sarah wouldn’t do that, right?

She isn’t like them. She knows how much she meant to me—how much she still means to me, even now. However, it’s also been a long time since we’ve been together. How much has changed over the last twenty years?

I don’t know if I can risk the heartbreak of losing her a second time, but I also don’t know if I can give up the opportunity to have her in my arms again, even if it’s only temporary.

I run my thumb over the handle of my cup, staring down into my coffee. She’s watching me, waiting for my reaction, and I’m not sure what to say.

“Well,” I start. “That’s… unexpected.”

She lets out a nervous laugh. “Tell me about it. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

I should walk away. I should tell her that this isn’t a good idea, that I’ve had enough of being someone’s temporary fantasy, someone’s brief exploration before reality pulls them back to where they feel most comfortable.

But I don’t.

Because this is Sarah. And no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, she’s always been different.

“So… what does that mean?” I ask, keeping my voice even. “For you, I mean.”

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