by Violet Paige
“No, we don’t. But I’m going to find out anyway, or we’ll end up in a fiery heap of rubble and it won’t fucking matter.” I didn’t shake. I somehow kept my voice steady. Maybe the idea of dying this way was so preposterous I wouldn’t let myself go there.
“You’re asking me to reveal classified information.”
“I’m classified?”
“Parts of you are.”
“You’re asking me to believe this is a big coincidence? That suddenly after five years you’re vetting me for a top-secret FBI recruitment and our plane is about to go down? That you’re sitting next to me after walking out of my life without so much as a text. That the day you show up in my life, is the day my life is threatened? That’s a coincidence?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.” He never had.
“Neither do I,” I answered. “So tell me.”
“Syd, there’s no time,” he argued.
“Talk faster.”
He shook his head and exhaled.
Was this how it ended? Us deadlocked in a battle of wills. A fight over who’s pride was stronger while the coffee was served next to us and the kids three rows backed watched a Disney movie. Was this what over actually meant?
Chapter Eight
Five Years Ago
I sat outside a café at a wrought iron table haphazardly arranged on the sidewalk. It was hot enough to make the sweat drip down the back of my knees, but in the shade it was tolerable. Sort of.
D.C. summers were like this. A stifling heat settled over the city. It drove people inside to the museums and away from the monuments. I had the sidewalk tables to myself.
I sipped a lemon water, scanning my friends’ posts from last night. I looked up from my phone when a rare breeze slipped in between the buildings. The petals on the umbrella overhead fluttered once.
An alert popped up on my phone. It was a reminder there was a party tonight at Becca’s new brownstone. It was a housewarming. At least she wanted to call it a housewarming. Her boyfriend wanted to call it a kegger. He had the less sophisticated interpretation. It was his way of keeping things light—a joke. A throwback to when they were in college.
I still didn’t know how those two were going to live together. Travis seemed insistent on entering the arrangement as a roommate. Becca swore a ring was on the way.
She was happy, but I didn’t know if it could last. She spent too much of her time with Travis convincing him. Persuading him. Seducing him. It wasn’t the kind of relationship I wanted.
I told her before I left work yesterday that I would be at the party. The planning dominated our lunch and coffee break conversations all week. It didn’t bother me. I only worried that Becca was making a mistake. The kind that would break her heart.
There was one detail I hadn’t gotten to yet. I needed to pick up a gift on the way. There was a gift shop near my apartment. I could pop in and grab something before the party. I had used it countless times for birthdays I’d almost forgotten. Mother’s Day cards. Congratulations gifts. They had everything.
I had narrowed the options for Becca and Travis to two choices. It would either be a bottle of wine or an orchid. Both were appropriate choices my mother would be proud of. After skimming over the wine selection, I decided on the flower. It would probably last longer than the relationship and Becca could keep it when Travis moved out. I wasn’t a cynic. I considered it realism.
It was that practicality that confused people. As if I was some kind of anomaly because I was emotive, yet had a computer programming job. That I couldn’t be both girly and a computer geek. That being practical and logical somehow excluded me from craving a deep romance. A love that knocked the wind out of me. I could be all those things, couldn’t I?
I was running late for the housewarming. I had spent too much time trying a new smoky eye technique when I realized I was beyond the acceptable time to drop in. Shit. I zipped the side of my black dress. It was short. Even shorter when I stepped into the five-inch heels. I tucked the matching clutch under my arm and carefully held the orchid I had picked up at the gift shop.
I waited for my Uber to pick me up on the corner. Becca had moved to the other side of town. Travis was in banking. I still wasn’t clear about what he did. It was something that brought in a small fortune. It was the only way to explain how they were able to afford rent in this neighborhood.
I knocked on the door, noticing the brownstone next to theirs was for sale.
The door whipped open. “Sydney!” Becca tried to throw her arms around me, but I lifted the orchid before she crushed it.
“For you.” I smiled. “Happy housewarming.”
“Thank you. It’s gorgeous. Travis will love it. It’s just so pretty.”
I bit my tongue.
“Come in. Come in. I want to show you everything.”
I think I still expected to see boxes or at least the semblance of a couple trying to get organized in a new house, but the brownstone was the opposite.
“Becca, this is amazing.” I looked around at the fixtures and art.
“Thank you.” She grinned. “Travis likes it too.”
“That’s good.”
“When did you have time to do all this?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “All night. I almost didn’t pull it off.”
“It didn’t have to be perfect for the party. Your guests would have understood.”
“No. I wanted it this way.” She waved me along the hall. “Come on. Everyone’s on the patio. I know it’s hot, but we installed one of those mister systems.”
Mister system? Travis must make even more than I suspected. I followed her through the kitchen, nodding and smiling at strangers gathered around the island. She took me down a set of brick steps and we emerged in a courtyard at the back of the brownstone. The yard was separated by a brick wall, bordered with short shrubs. It had everything, including strings of patio lights overhead. It was like a magical little escape inside D.C. I never would have believed existed.
“Everyone, Sydney is here,” Becca announced to the small crowd huddled near the fountain.
I was surprised Travis was the first to walk over. “Hey, Syd. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” I gave him a small side hug. “The place is great. You’ve done so much already.”
“That’s all Becca. She’s the decorator. If it were up to me every room would have a big screen and a pool table.”
She giggled. I didn’t know what was going on. He seemed all in, and there was no sign of a keg anywhere.
I scanned a few of the faces on the patio. I didn’t recognize anyone. Where were the girls? Where were the friends from work? I looked at the bar over my shoulder to the few people that were milling around inside the kitchen before turning to the fountain. I stopped when my eyes landed on him. Dark hair. Dark eyes. And a sharp jawline that had made my knees weak when we were in college. What was AJ Hart doing here?
“Becca.” I grabbed my friend’s elbow before she hurried to answer the doorbell. “How do you know AJ?”
“Oh Mr. Sex on a Stick? That one?” She winked. “You know him? He’s friends with Travis. They on the same soccer club team.”
“Really? He knows Travis. Small world. I knew him at Carolina.”
“That is a small world. I’ll be right back. Someone’s at the door. You should go say hi. Catch up on old times and then tell me everything he said.”
“It wasn’t—”
Becca disappeared into the kitchen. It was crowded inside. The wine station was around the marble island. Everyone seemed to be congregating in that one spot. The air was nice in the courtyard and the mister brought the temperature down at least ten degrees.
I straightened my shoulders as I descended the stairs and stepped onto the brick patio. I took a few steps toward the built-in stone bench where he was sitting.
“Hey there.” I smiled at AJ. “It’s good to see you again. I can’t believe it’s at Becca and Travis’s housewa
rming.”
He looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. Did we meet earlier in the kitchen? Do I know you?”
My cheeks turned red, or at least it felt that way. “Oh wow. Yeah. We were at Carolina at the same time. Sydney Miller?”
He shook his head. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
“Econ 10? We sat in the same row?”
“No. I’m sorry. It’s not coming back to me. We had the same class?” He ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
I was about to pivot on my heels, mortified. I didn’t know how to explain how we knew each other without sounding like an idiot. Like I had memorized his schedule or hobbies. That I knew things about him that only someone who was interested in him would know. But the fact that he didn’t know who I was? It was embarrassing. It was my cue to join the wine bar. I could still pretend I hadn’t run into him, and he’d probably forget this meeting anyway.
“Wait.” His hand clasped my wrist. “Why don’t you sit? I’ll get us some drinks and we can figure it out.”
My smile turned sheepish. “I was going to get a glass of wine and say hi to some of the girls from work who just showed up. I’m sure I’ll see you in the house.” I was proud of how cool and casual I sounded.
“I’ll get it. Sit.” He pointed next to his seat. “I’ll be right back. I want to know how we know each other.” He winked. “I like a good mystery.”
“All right. A glass of wine sounds good. But I’m afraid I can unravel this for you pretty quickly,” I teased.
I tucked the little bit of my hem under my thighs and sat sideways as he walked in the house. From the bench, I could see AJ inside the kitchen smiling, laughing, pouring two glasses of wine while the girls flirted around him. He moved easily among the crowd.
He had always been that guy. The one that drew people to him. He wasn’t loud or boisterous—not the center of attention because he forced it. But rather something about his comfort in his own skin was a gravitational pull. It was the way he could sit back and watch a room. The ease at which he could talk to people. That drew them toward him. It was like he was everyone’s friends. He didn’t try too hard. Or overdo it. It was a gift.
Only I realized we were not friends. He had no clue who I was. No recollection of when we shared notes in class, or even the time we studied side-by-side for finals.
He grinned when he strolled across the paver stones, carrying our wine.
“Here you go, Syd.”
The glass was cold in my hand. I took a big gulp. I liked how he pretended to suddenly know my nickname. It was part of that charm he unassumingly carried.
“Thank you.”
He sat next to me. “Ok, so you were telling me we knew each other at UNC?”
I looked away. “I mean. Yes. No. It’s—” I stopped and looked at him. “You really don’t remember me?”
His eyes creased on the side. It was sexy and cute at the same time. Damn. My heart fluttered a little. “Tell me something. Help me jog my memory.” He stretched his arm around the top of the bench, circling my back with the length of his arm. There it was. The ease. The familiarity we didn’t have, but he made me believe with a simple gesture.
I twisted my lips together. The wine helped. AJ’s intense gaze on me also helped.
“Professor Daniels. Econ 10. We sat in the second to last row. The getaway row we called it.” I laughed.
“Yeah. Yeah. I did sit back there.” He nodded. “Keep going.”
I watched when he swallowed. Even his throat was gorgeous. He had been good-looking in college, but he had been a boy on the verge of adulthood then. Now he was all man. A gorgeous tall sexy man that made me want to hop in a time machine and relive what I could and should have done with him in college.
I kept chattering nervously. “And you worked at the Buzz Spot. You used to give me free coffees when I went in there with Jenn Kelly. We would go Fridays after lunch. It was kind of our way to end the week.”
“I did? Every Friday? Hmm.”
I nodded. “I think you gave a lot of people free coffee.” I laughed.
“No shit. I’m lucky they didn’t fire me. And you were friends with Jenn?” I could tell he was studying me, trying to remember something. Anything about a time our paths crossed. I could tell it bothered him.
“Roommates actually.” I started doing that nervous thing with my hair when I brushed it over my shoulder and then back again.
“Fuck me. You lived with Jenn? I know I hit a few parties at her place.”
“You did. Many times.”
“Then I’m a complete asshole.”
I shook my head. “It’s not a big deal.” I wanted to drop it. I didn’t want to make him feel bad, and I didn’t like being the only one with the memories.
“It is.” He took a gulp of wine. “What was I doing that I don’t remember a girl like you?”
My eyes dropped to the cobblestone pavers. “I have no idea. It’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.” I had already finished half of the glass of wine. I was nervous drinking, but I didn’t want to get drunk.
“All right.” He sighed. “We can talk about something other than Econ 10. Are you friends with Becca or Travis?”
I looked through the windows at the party taking place inside. Travis had Becca in a tight grip. They were laughing in the kitchen. She looked up at him, throwing her head back.
“Becca and I work together at DataCorp,” I answered.
“So you must have been a computer science major? That’s it. I got that right, didn’t I?”
I winced. He was increasingly more irresistible, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, but he wasn’t close. I hadn’t taken more than a general college class in that department.
“No. I needed a job. I sort of fell into IT. I was a Lit major. I have no idea what I thought I was going to do with that. Write a book? Review books? Teach writing? I have no idea.” I laughed. “But you know college gives you this false idea that you can do anything. Be anything. There was no way to support myself being a literary critic.” I sighed. “But wouldn’t that be awesome if that’s what I did every day instead of solving corporate IT crises?” I mused. I didn’t know why I was suddenly so philosophical.
There was something nostalgic in the air. The lights overhead. The garden echoing the splash of the stone fountain. The chilled wine and the hot guy sitting next to me. It had the makings of the beginning. The beginning of something epic.
His body turned, leaning into my space. I inhaled his clean scent. He didn’t wear much cologne. Just enough to make my head spin.
“I can’t get anything right tonight, can I?”
I took in a gulp of air. I immediately thought of a long list of things AJ was probably excellent at doing. Anything in the dark. Anything in the shower. Anything that involved him naked. Those were my top three.
I’d never wondered about him before. He hadn’t crossed my mind that way in college. Until I saw him tonight I hadn’t thought about where he’d gone after graduation. All of that was about to change.
Chapter Nine
AJ and I talked and everything else fell away. I didn’t check my phone or the watch my parents gave me as a graduation gift. I didn’t know if it had been fifteen minutes or two hours since he’d brought me that first glass of wine. We talked. We laughed. He made several trips to the bar for us. As each joke was told. As each story was explained, our bodies inched closer. Our voices grew quieter, until our fingers threaded through each other’s, and the courtyard had cleared.
I wasn’t sure when we became the only two people outside. There was a noticeable stillness around us even though the music played from Travis’s high-end outdoor speakers.
“There’s one thing you’ve been mysterious about,” I toyed with him.
“What’s that?” His eyebrows lifted.
“You haven’t said what you do now. You’ve heard all about my lit to computer story, but where do you work?”
He pressed his
perfect kissable lips together. “It’s not great party conversation.”
“Did you become a mortician?” I teased.
He laughed. A deep laugh that made a little part of me melt from the sincerity. “No, funeral homes are not in the Hart legacy.”
“All right then, what is it? Don’t tell me you’re an economist. That would be ironic since you remember nothing from Econ 10.”
“Wouldn’t it?” He smiled. “Actually, I’m finishing up at the Academy.”
“Hmm. In D.C. that could mean about ten different things. Are you going to make me guess?”
I liked the way he leaned in closer, even though there was no one in earshot of us.
“The FBI Academy in Quantico. Just down the road from here.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”
He chuckled. “I get a mixed bag of reactions. I’m hoping not to draw a lot of attention to it. I’ve kept the training relatively quiet, but I’ll be done in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s understandable.” Although, I had a hundred questions. “Does that mean you were in some kind of law enforcement program at Carolina? I don’t remember that part.” Thank God there was something I didn’t know about his college resume.
“My major was Peace, War and Defense. I probably didn’t announce that either.” His smirk was sexy.
“What does that even mean? I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”
There was that intoxicating laugh again. “I knew I wanted to go into law somehow. It was a good foundation. That’s all it was. Just a way to go into some sort of law service. I wasn’t convinced back then it wasn’t going to be the military. But my dad was in the agency. I liked the idea of being the next Hart to take his place.”
“That sounds like a sentimental reason to choose a career.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m not sentimental. I like to operate on logic. It made sense. I could carry on the Hart name in the Bureau. Continue the work he had done.”
I considered his answer. I didn’t want to argue with him, that somewhere deep down he had to have an attachment to the legacy. That there must be a reason for wanting to be the next generation of Harts at the Bureau. I was having too much fun to press him about it.
