He shakes his head, seeing through the brush-off. “No, that was something else. That woman? She owned her space.” He takes a few tentative steps forward, lowers his voice so the boys can’t hear. “A motherfucking woman who takes what she wants.”
The smirk tugging at his lips as he calls back the anthem from the car sends a rush of tingles through me. A wild, unhinged wave of possibility takes hold. I skate until my feet touch back down to earth.
I spend the next hour teaching the boys a basic spin while the man on the sidelines watches my every move. By the time we leave the rink, my cheeks are flushed from the cold, my muscles pleasantly sore. And for the first time in a long while, the smile on my face doesn’t feel borrowed.
James holds the car door open, his eyes catching mine for a beat too long. Something in my chest tightens. Whatever it is, it steals the breath right out of me.
“You looked really free and happy out there.”
If only I could stay in that feeling.
Seven
Flamesleapagainstthedark, lambent on flushed cheeks, half-empty wine glasses, and my teacup. Laughter flows easily, softened by good food and wine. But the glow from this afternoon has faded. Whatever glimpse of freedom I found earlier is tucked away again, buried beneath the layers of obligation and expectation, under the weight of tomorrow’s test. I curl deeper into my chair, wrapping my arms around my legs, sealing in whatever warmth remains.
“I love all the questions it raises,” Ivy muses, picking up the thread of conversation about the movie I put on the other day and its sequel. “Can you imagine? Meeting someone, falling in love over the course of a single day, and reconnecting years later, after life has completely changed?”
Tom leans back, resting a hand on Jules’s thigh. “It’s a question of soulmates, right? Are they real, or something we convince ourselves of?”
Jules sighs dramatically and drapes herself across his lap. “You know you’re it for me, baby. Forever and always.” She leans in and kisses him as though the rest of us aren’t sitting here. When she finally comes up for air, she picks up right where she left off. “But it does make you think. What happens if you meet ‘the one who got away’ again, and you’ve already built a whole life?”
Silence falls as we all sit with the question, suspended in the winter air.
“People aren’t stagnant. If the person you choose doesn’t grow with you… That’s when the questions start forming.” James stares into the flames, shadows dancing across the planes of his handsome face. “Do you stay where it’s comfortable? Or do you take a chance?”
He leans back, all casual ease, but his eyes find mine.
Jules rests her glass on her knee. “You’re right. That movie only works because neither of them is happy. If they were, there wouldn’t be anything to tempt them. No what-ifs to chase.”
“Exactly.” James nods. “I think connection is like music. You don’t always know why a song stays with you or strikes something deep, but when it does, it’s as if you’ve touched something larger than yourself.”
The fire crackles. The cold bites, challenging me to hear him. Hear her.
Mason looks up from his phone. “Are we still talking about this? This soulmate stuff is Hollywood nonsense. Relationships are about making smart choices, not some mystical connection.”
Ivy leans in to nuzzle James. “I don’t know about mystical connections and soulmates, but I’mreallyinto this guy and the orgasms he gives me.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Mason groans, shaking his head. “No one wants to hear about your orgasms.”
Laughter erupts around the fire, as if the night itself is in on the joke. Everyone’s caught up in Mason’s response, everyone except me and the man whose gaze finds mine through the flames.
He looks away, a swift, guilty movement. The flush creeping up his neck turns his honeyed skin a deep crimson. He looks... apologetic? As if the thought of me picturing them together unsettles him. I tug my shawl tighter around my shoulders, hoping the soft fabric might somehow shield me from the unwelcome pang twisting in my stomach.
“Orgasms and soulmates are entirely different questions.” Tom clicks his tongue to stop the giggling nonsense. “The real question James asked was about that deeper connection when you and someone just click. How do you work as a partnership, and does it endure as you grow older?”
“Exactly.” James recovers with a casual tone. “People evolve. Sometimes what someone once thought was right turns out to be all wrong. To continue the musicmetaphor: one day, a soulful R&B track catches your ear, and suddenly your love for country doesn’t feel so steadfast anymore.”
His eyes sweep to mine again, just for a second. But it’s enough.
I suck in a deep breath as the anger—a slow burn from the last few days, months, and years—rises unbidden. Fuck him, his knowing smirk, and bullshit metaphors.
“That’s ridiculous. There’s not some music god strumming a guitar and saying, ‘Let’s switch things up today.’ We have free will. We decide what music we enjoy. Who we connect with.” My voice is steadier than I feel.
Laughter ripples. But James doesn’t flinch.
“Who are you trying to convince, Sydney? Us… or yourself?” He leans back, ankle crossed over opposite knee, eyes full of challenge. “Can you say you’ve never felt a connection you couldn’t explain? Something that defied logic or reason?”
My breath stalls somewhere in my chest, and I grip my tea with white-knuckled fingers.
