Page 16 of What Should Have Been Ours

Cam: Because if you want quality, I can recommend a few fancy places that take hot chocolate way too seriously. But if you want nostalgia—the kind that tastes like bad hospital vending machines and questionable choices—then I think you already know the answer.

I debate for a second, then let my fingers type out one last message before I can overthink it.

Cam: What do you say, Voss? Wanna relive our glory days? Meet me at The Cocoa Bean tomorrow at six. Doctor’s orders.

I hit send and smirk to myself, already picturing the way she’s rolling her eyes at her screen.

Wes leans over, catching my expression. “You look like a teenager excited to get laid for the first time. Who are you texting?”

I tilt my phone away, shaking my head. “None of your business, Reed.”

Wes scoffs. “Oh, it’s absolutely my business. Wait—it’s her, isn’t it? She finally texted you?”

I don’t confirm or deny it. Just take another sip of my drink and watch my phone.

Wes claps a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head. “You are so screwed. I already see it happening.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m just answering a text, Wes.”

“Sure.” He smirks, sipping his beer. “And I’m just a neurosurgeon. Are we both gonna keep lying here?”

I ignore him, my attention flicking back to my phone.

Waiting for a response.

If she actually shows up tomorrow, I know—deep down, there’s no way this can just be some casual re-connection.

7

Gabrielle

“What was I thinking? I can’t do this.”

“Oh, you can, and you will, Gab,” Kinsley says, shutting down my current spiral of emotions.

“You’re going to finish up this paperwork and then leave and go meet up with Mr. long-lost soulmate hot doctor and have the best damn hot chocolate of your life with him.” She scrunches her nose and looks up. “As weird as that sounds.”

Kinsley continues to stand over my desk, arms crossed.

I groan, dropping my pen and slumping back in my chair. “Or, hear me out—I stay here, do more paperwork, and completely avoid the possibility of reliving the most painful heartbreak of my existence. I never even texted him back anyway. He’s probably not even expecting me to show up.”

Kinsley lets out a sharp tsk and leans forward, planting her hands on my desk. “Okay, one, I refuse to let you be this dramatic when I know for a fact that you’ve been internally screaming with joy since he texted you back last night. And two, do you want me to physically drag you out of here? Because I will.”

I glare at her. “You’re like a whole foot shorter than me, I’d like to see you try.”

“I’m packed with a lot of adrenaline and the desperate need for soul-mates to be real. I’ll find a way.”

I roll my eyes, but even she knows deep down I want to give in.

I’ve spent all night and all morning trying to muster up the courage to make myself meet him after work. The second I saw his reply come through, my brain short-circuited, and my heart wanted to beat its way out of my chest.

Suddenly, I was sixteen again, desperate to be anywhere in Cam’s orbit.

Now here I am, an hour away from seeing him again, an hour away from walking straight into my heart’s demise.

This is dangerous emotional territory I’ve spent over a decade avoiding.

Kinsley is still watching me, eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you so afraid of?”