Page 58 of Neap & Spring

“We both got perfect scores on that final exam, Reid.”

The line between his brows disappears, and a look of relief washes over his face.

“There she is.”

The kitchen goes silent.

Roman has actually stopped moving, his knife suspended in mid-air over his cutting board.

“What?” I say, and it comes out breathless.

“You.” Callum’s looking at me like he’s just found something rare, and it makes my heart do complicated aerobics. “The girl who’d argue with me about knife techniques for thirty minutes straight. And defend her organizational system like it was a matter of life and death. The girl who never ever backed down from a fight, even when she was wrong.”

“I was never wrong.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

“You were wrong about the butter sauce.”

“I wasn’t even involved in the butter sauce!”

“You took his side!”

“Because you were being ridiculous!”

And just like that, we’re both smiling again. I can feel my eyes crinkle, and my face starts to ache because I haven’t done it in so long.

“That’s who I —” Callum looks away and clears his throat. “That’s who I remember. From Paris.”

“She’s been here the whole time.”

“I know.” He meets my eyes again and holds my gaze for a second too long to be professional. “Glad to see her again anyway.”

Roman makes a sound that might be him choking on air.

“Don’t,” Callum warns him, not looking away from me.

“I didn’t say anything.” I can hear the grin in Roman’s voice.

“You were thinking it. Focus on your station before I make you redo that sauce eight times.”

“Yes, Chef.” Roman chuckles, and when I finally tear my eyes away from Callum to look at him, he’s got the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.

I turn back to the dishes, my hands shaking slightly as I plunge them back into the warm, soapy water.

There she is.

Like he’d been looking for her. Just waiting for her to come back.

Like maybe, he’d missed her.

I grip the edge of the sink, trying to get my breathing under control. This is dangerous. This feeling of warmth spreading through my chest like I’ve swallowed the sun.

I can’t do this. I can’t let myself feel this.

Because nothing has changed. I still can’t tell him what happened. I’m still broken in ways he doesn’t know about. I’m still going to have to leave eventually. Another job will come, and I’ll be on to the next city.

That’s what I do.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, pulling me from my thoughts.