Page 67 of Mine Again
I stand with him, swinging my handbag over my shoulder, unsure what to say. This isn’t a breakup. It was barely the start of something. Still, I feel a little raw.
“Take care, Isa,” he says and offers me a quick, awkward hug.
“You too, Andrea. Good luck in Milan.”
And then he’s gone.
I let out a long sigh.
Well, that was that.
I watch Andrea’s retreating back as he weaves between tables toward the exit.
Sebastian steps out of the hallway just as Andrea passes.
The timing is ridiculous. Almost surgical.
If I weren’t caught in the pull of our eyes meeting again, I’d probably laugh.
I stand up straighter, adjust the strap on my bag and plaster on a smile.
“Sebastian,” I greet when he reaches me, my breath catching as if my lungs have forgotten how to work.
“In the flesh,” he replies, his mouth curving into that slow, knowing smile. “I’m glad I made enough of an impression for you to remember my name.”
I try to smile, but it’s weak. My thoughts scramble and my body buzzes.
He’s in a sharp navy suit, the crisp white shirt open at the collar. No tie. Polished but relaxed. Of course he looks like a walking magazine cover.
“It’s wonderful we meet again,” he says with practiced ease. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I was rather cross that fire interrupted my asking you out.”
My heart stutters. So I hadn’t imagined it. Hewasgoing to ask me.
“You’re… very direct.” My voice comes out thinner than I’d like, and I immediately hate how breathy I sound.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear even though it wasn’t in my face. My fingers fuss with my bag strap like it suddenly doesn’t belong on my shoulder.
He watches me with that steady, unreadable calm that only adds to the pressure rising in my chest.
“It’s the only way to be if you want anything worth having in life,” he says.
I nod but it’s delayed. My thoughts are still catching up. Only when I finally exhale do I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
“I’m meeting someone here in a few minutes,” he says, glancing at his watch. “Otherwise, I’d have asked you for a coffee date right now.”
He pauses, clearly waiting for a reaction, but all I manage is to blinkat him.
When I don’t respond, he continues. “I truly would love to see you again. What’s your phone number?”
Of all the things he could have said, I’m not prepared for that.
My mouth opens and closes again. I clutch my bag a little tighter, needing the grounding sensation of something solid.
I’m trying to sound firm, logical. But there’s a flicker of something reckless inside me that wants to say yes, if only to feel wanted again. Especially now that Father’s golden cage has cracked open and I’m no longer under such scrutiny.
“I’m not going to give you my phone number,” I say carefully. “You’re a complete stranger.”
His smile deepens, completely unbothered.
