“I wondered how to best do this,” he says. He’s bracing his hands on the table, the wide backs and long fingers stretching out on the vinyl. “I considered writing you a letter or sending an email through the official channels, but that would be violating our agreement. No pleasure mixed in with the business.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Winter and Exciteur are separate.”
“They are. I considered calling you, or texting. But…” He shakes his head. “Last time, you told me to leave you alone.”
“God, I said a lot of things last time. I didn’t mean that.”
“I hoped you didn’t, but I wanted to honor it in case you did.”
“So you did this. Ramen,” I say, looking around at the framed images on the wall, the neon lighting.
“Yes. Do you remember when we came here together?”
“Of course I do.”
“I knew I shouldn’t walk you home. Shouldn’t follow you inside. Shouldn’t think about the way your lips had felt on mine, or how distractingly attractive you were in that skirt, or how well we’d played together.”
My cheeks heat up. “I knew I shouldn’t have invited you up to my apartment that afternoon, either.”
“No,” he says quietly, “you shouldn’t’ve. But you did.”
“Yes.” We’d showered together, his hands on my body, my lips on his… and started something much bigger than just a tennis game.
“Sophia,” he says. “It’s been a long couple of years before I met you, and during every single one of them, I was alone. Even in my last relationship, when we were engaged, I was on my own. It wasn’t a true partnership. And I think I’ve always preferred that. I think it’s always been safer to not let anyone in, not fully. To focus on my work and what everyone else needs me to be.
“That’s part of why I spent time with Beverly. It was self-destructive, and easy, andsafe.Because she never needed me. And I never needed her. I’m sorry I helped her be unfaithful. I’m sorry it hurt you, Sophia, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it right away. But most of all I’m sorry it made you think less of me.”
The words wash over me, and through me. They settle something inside that had been nervous from the moment I’d seen him sitting at this plastic table.
“We all do things we’re not proud of,” I say. “The way I reacted… it was because of my past.”
“I know,” he says softly. “I should have anticipated that.”
I shake my head. “You can’t anticipate everything. I reacted more strongly than… I didn’t listen to you, Isaac, or to your reasons. You were hurt too, after having been cheated on. I should’ve listened.”
He closes his eyes. Dark eyelashes fan out over his high cheekbones, and stubble traces the sharp line of his jaw. “Meeting you has been the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
My throat feels tight. “Isaac…”
“I want you to know that I’m willing to work for it. To go as slow as you’d like. To wait. To never ask you to another party or benefit, if you feel like you’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”
I put my hand over his. “I’m not in love with Percy.”
There’s disbelief in his eyes, plain and simple, and I remember his words from our explosive conversation by the river. “I’m not,” I say again.
“But that night, when we were at Salt. When they told us about the pregnancy…”
“I was feeling a lot of things right then, but believe me, it wasn’t jealousy. It’s more like I saw myself in her, and where I might’ve been if the divorce never happened. And it’s a sore spot, one where I’d always been made to feel like… well, like I’d failed. Percy and his mother loved to hint about kids, but I wasn’t ready yet.”
The hand beneath mine turns to grip mine. “What do you mean?” he asks flatly.
“I wanted to wait for kids, to focus on my career. Honestly, I’m still… unsure about when I’ll feel ready. I’m thirty-three. Shouldn’t I be ready?”
“There’s no timeline,” he says, and there’s a fierce undertone to his voice. “You do things at your own pace.”
I sigh. “Yes. Well, they made me feel like Ishouldwant it, like I was a fool for loving my life the way it was, and I was letting them down. Letting Percy down.”
“I hate the Brownes.”