My stomach sinks as I take her in, fighting with myself not to reach for her. It’s almost impossible to keep my hands to myself as I see the woman I think about every fucking day standing in front of me.
Nora looks my way before dropping her gaze and slinking to the side. The sound of her shoes against the floor as she makes her way to the back of the bar is barely heard over the white noise coursing through my veins.
I take a half-step back as I wait for her to turn around. She sighs, lets her hand fall to her sides, but doesn’t move.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is rougher than I intended.
“Nora is picking up her check.” Her voice is just a whisper, quieter than I expected.
“That’s not what I mean.”
She brings a hand up to the side of her face, the simple diamond stud in her ear catching a ray of sun streaming through the windows. As my lungs fill with air and refuse to let it go, I drag my gaze down her slender neck, over her dainty shoulders, and down her arm until it rests on her left hand.
My jaw sets, my teeth grinding so hard I can nearly hear the squeal of enamel scraping against itself. It takes everything I have not to lurch forward and jerk her hand toward me so I can see if she’s sporting a wedding band. She keeps it angled so I can’t see it; whether it’s on purpose or not doesn’t matter. Whether it’s ridiculous of me to get pissed about something like that doesn’t matter either. Just when I’m ready to pounce, she moves her wrist just enough so I can see her finger is bare.
“I, um, I’m moving back—I moved back,” she corrects, nodding her head once.
I don’t say another word. I don’t move a muscle. I just stand in place and listen to my heart beat so hard, like it’s chanting her name so she’ll turn around and look at me.
Her shoulders pull back as she pivots, turning her body so she’s facing me. Finally.
Remaining impassive is impossible as I take in the girl I once thought I’d marry. She’s more beautiful than ever with her porcelain skin, full lips, and intense brown eyes. I look ridiculous standing in front of her, not saying a word, but all I can do is fight every instinct shuffling inside me.
“How are you?” I finally ask, shoving my hands in my pockets as a security measure.
“Good. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.” She flinches as she says the words, a throwback to the fight that finally ended things between us for good. She takes a step toward me, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Cross…”
Her eyes flood with a mix of emotions swirling so hard I can’t separate them out. I could do what people do—pick out the one I want to see and roll with it—but I’m not most people, and I’m not a pussy.
“You look good, Cross,” she whispers, quieter this time, studying me.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
She shakes her head, running those ring-free fingers through her hair. “That’s a nice thing to say. Total lie, but nice, anyway.” She laughs.
“Why is that a lie?”
“Look at me.”
“From where I’m standing, time couldn’t have been any sweeter to you, Kallie girl.” A smile tickles my lips as her cheeks flush. This is the girl I remember and, if I’m not careful, the one I’ll once again be jacked up over in a heartbeat.
“Look at you being all charming.”
“It’s a new trick I picked up while you were gone. I figured I needed to round out my game a little.”
“How’s that working out for you?” She tries to play her question off like it’s routine banter, but I know her too well. She’s digging, prying, asking what I’ve been up to without having to ask.
“Win some, lose some,” I say, looking her in the eye. Rocking back on my heel, I narrow my eyes. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Am I winning or losing right now?” My mouth fights the twitch of a smile crawling up my lips.
She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’d say if we’re taking into consideration the previous rounds, it’s a split decision. This round doesn’t look bad, but the ones before it weren’t too pretty.”
Trying to hide my amusement at this girl using, of all things, a boxing metaphor on me to describe our relationship, I shrug. “I don’t think all the previous rounds were bad. I distinctly remember winning a couple of them. Hell, I thought I had the thing won a couple of rounds ago.”
“You almost did,” she says carefully, her voice steady now. “But that slip in the last round cost you the whole fight.”