Page 17 of Falling for You Again

I opened the car door.

“Hey, Meli.”

I turned back to Aaron.

“You’re never going to stop thinking about me.”

“I’m not?” I scoffed at his confidence. “And how do you know that?”

His smirk was a dare, oozing self-assuredness and a hint of mischief. “Because I’m not going to stop thinking about you.”

I gave him a sly smile. “You sound pretty sure of yourself. Hey, what are we going to do about that piece of paper between us?”

A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’ll hear from my lawyers.” Then he got into the car that had pulled up behind mine. It was the last time I saw him. Until tonight.

Aaron’s tongue now swirls over his teeth, his mouth pursing in a poor attempt to stop his grin. Hands in his pockets, he tips his head back and looks at the dark sky. “Nice night.”

“It is,” I say, my stare fixed on him.

He offers his elbow. “How about a walk instead?”

“Instead of what?”

“Coffee in the morning. Unless you want to do both.”

His tone is teasing. Daring.

Suddenly, I no longer feel tired. “I’d love to,” I answer, unsure what I’m saying yes to. Perhaps it’s both, a nighttime walk and an early-morning coffee. I’m just eager for the time with him in between.

I cancel my ride request and take his elbow.

We weave through the bustle of guests clamoring to get home. A few people call out to Aaron. He waves to one man, shakes another’s hand, thanks them for coming. But he doesn’t let anyone waylay us. We round a corner and we still haven’t said anything to each other. We just keep looking at one another like we can’t believe we’re here, together. I clear my throat. “You’re quiet.”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“You.” His eyes are black in the faint lighting as his gaze roams my face, skims over my hair, and coasts down my dress. “I have so many questions.”

“Does one of them have to do with why I’m wearing a gown every time we run into each other? I swear I don’t dress like this every day.”

He laughs. “No, but now that you mention it, how are your feet?”

The first thing we did after we’d married was buy me a pair of sneakers. I had no intention of walking the Las Vegas Strip in my wedding heels.

“My arches are killing me.” I’ve been standing in my slingbacks for over three hours. Murder for a gal who lives in work boots.

“Doubt we’ll have any luck finding a shoe store at this hour. There’s a pub up ahead. Let me buy you a drink instead.”

Getting off my feet sounds heavenly. “I’d love to have a drink with you.”

Aaron holds open the door, his hand lightly grazing my back when he follows me inside. The pub is dimly lit and loud. A live band plays Irish folk music in the back. I text Emi that I ran into Aaron and that we’ve gone out for drinks as we snag a booth near the entrance and away from the band. But we’re forced to sit close on the green velvet bench to hear ourselves over the music. Aaron’s elbow bumps my arm when we order beers and bacon cheeseburgers, his thigh pressing against mine.

“Confession,” he says while we wait for our food, angling his body toward me. “It’s the same for me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the airport.”

Since our goodbye kiss. There was something different in that kiss. Unspoken promises. Missed opportunities. Regrets about things that would never happen.

“You’re engaged,” I remind him. But how fun it would be to flirt with him.

---