Page 10 of Stuck

“How many permutations?”

Another slow blink. Were her eyelashes always that luscious dark brown tinged with blonde tips? How stupid was I a decade ago that I never noticed? She smiles. “There were some elements of that evening that I’ve used over and over again in my stories. The way you…” She trails off and looks at my hands, then back up to my face.

And she blushes.

But I don’t find out what it was—the way Iwhat?—before the steward returns to collect our dinner trays.

Once we’re alone again, she changes the subject. “Who have you kept in touch with from school?”

“There are people who stayed in the city and got into the business world. I see them from time to time. I stayed in touch with some of the guys until everything imploded. Did a few bachelor parties to Vegas, that sort of thing. But that’s all in the past.” Except for one person. “And I hadn’t been keeping up with Regan, but I wrote to her last year. Part of making amends, the process of repentance, is an honest reckoning of the hurt I’ve caused. She wrote back and wished me well.”

“She didn’t tell me you’d reached out,” Hazel murmurs. “We talk semi-frequently. Follow each other’s lives online.” She hesitates. “She’s married. Did she tell you?”

“Yeah. Two kids. She seems happy. I’m glad.”

Hazel nods. “She is happy.”

“Does she know that I kissed you, back in the day?”

Her eyes blaze. “Of course she does. I wouldn’t have kept that from her.”

No, of course not. My neck flushes and my gut twists in shame.

“I’ll tell her about this, too.” Hazel drags her lower lip between her teeth. “Although now I’m wondering why she didn’t tell me you’d been in contact.”

“Maybe for the same reason I wrote to her, and not to you? You were very clear with me that you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

She smiles ruefully. “True.”

Then she wrinkles her nose.

“What?” I ask.

“This is all quite…weird. Don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. I’m a riot of intense emotions over here.”

She laughs. “Stop it.”

“Don’t I look it?”

She drags her gaze over me. Takes her time, too, until I’m aching for more than her eyes. “No,” she finally says, lifting her attention back to my face. “Although maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. What are you feeling right now?”

Nothing appropriate to say on a train, no matter how private our seats feel. “That I’d really like to continue this conversation when we get back to Toronto. You could—”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hear me out. Then you can say no, and we’ll go our separate ways if you really think that’s best. The next time I see you—if I ever have the pleasure—I’ll wait for you to introduce yourself, with whatever name you’re using then.”

She presses her lips together and waits.

I can’t read the expression on her face, but I forge ahead anyway. “It’s three days before the holidays. Like you said yourself, what kind of rooms are they going to find you? My place isn’t far from Union. I have a spare room. You’re welcome to stay with me tonight. And it would mean that our fun doesn’t have to end just yet.” I lean in. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again, Hazel. For what that’s worth.”

“A spare room?”

“If you want.”

She turns her head to the side and looks out the window. “We’re nearly there. I can see the lights of the city.”

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