Chapter 8 #2
A small cluster of guests had gathered beneath an awning outside, waiting for their cars. The valet stand was busy, uniformed attendants jogging back and forth between the street and the hotel entrance as headlights pulled up in a steady line.
The night had turned colder while we’d been inside. A sharp wind cut down the block, tugging at the edges of my dress and making me wish I’d brought something heavier than a thin coat.
I tried not to react, but Dani noticed anyway.
“Hold on,” she said.
Before I could ask what she meant, she stepped a little closer and shrugged out of her suit jacket.
“Dani—”
“Relax.”
She draped the jacket over my shoulders before I could protest, the fabric settling warm and heavy against my arms. For a second her hands lingered there, steadying it, brushing lightly against the tops of my shoulders as she adjusted the collar.
The warmth from her body still clung to the fabric.
Up close, I caught the faint scent of her cologne—clean and familiar in a way that tugged at something I wasn’t ready to examine.
“I’m fine,” I said, even though I was already pulling the jacket a little tighter around myself.
“Sure you are,” she said, amused.
A valet jogged up a moment later with Dani’s car, keys already spinning on one finger. Dani stepped forward to take them, and I stayed under the awning, my hands tucked inside the sleeves of her jacket while I watched her exchange a few quick words with the attendant.
I slid into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut behind me.
The warmth inside the car wrapped around me immediately, a welcome contrast to the sharp chill that had settled over the city outside.
My fingers, still a little numb from the brief time outside, curled loosely in my lap as the heater hummed.
Dani pulled away from the curb, guiding the car into the late-night traffic.
The ride itself was short—only a handful of city blocks—but neither of us seemed in any hurry to fill the quiet.
The radio played softly in the background, some slow song I didn’t recognize drifting through the car’s speakers.
Streetlights passed in steady intervals, washing the inside of the car in brief flashes of gold before slipping away again.
Outside the window, the city rolled past in familiar pieces—brick apartment buildings, corner bars with fogged-up windows, the glow of a late-night deli still open for business.
I rested my elbow against the door and watched it all slide by.
Neither of us spoke, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was the kind that stretched easily between people who already knew each other too well—like a conversation that had simply paused instead of ended.
At one red light, curiosity got the better of me.
I glanced over.
Dani was focused on the road, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other resting against the center console. The soft glow from the dashboard lit the side of her face, catching in the curve of her cheek and the edge of her jaw.
She looked older than she had in college—sharper somehow—but the familiar things were still there. The small crease between her brows when she concentrated. The way her mouth pressed slightly to one side when she was thinking.
It was familiar and new all at once.
The space between us suddenly felt smaller than it had when I’d first climbed in the car. If I shifted my hand just a few inches on the leather console between us, our fingers would touch.
I curled my hand back into my lap instead.
When we turned onto my street, a small knot formed in my chest.
The building appeared halfway down the block, exactly where it always was.
Too soon.
Dani slowed the car and eased it toward the curb. The tires rolled to a stop in front of my building with a soft crunch against the gravel near the gutter.
For a second neither of us moved.
The engine idled quietly. Somewhere down the block, a dog barked once before falling silent again.
I slipped Dani’s suit jacket off my shoulders, the sudden cool air in the car making me realize how warm I’d been the whole ride.
“Here,” I said, folding it once and holding it out to her.
Dani glanced over, one eyebrow lifting slightly like she’d almost forgotten about it.
“You can keep it if you’re still cold.”
“I live thirty feet away,” I said, gesturing toward the building.
She smiled faintly and took the jacket from my hands. Our fingers brushed for half a second as she pulled it away—nothing dramatic, just the briefest contact—but it sent a small, stupid jolt up my arm.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, reaching for the door handle.
My fingers had already curled around it when Dani spoke.
“Hey, Reese?”
Something in her voice made me pause before I could open the door.
“I’m really glad you’re here,” she said.
The words settled somewhere deep inside me—warm and unsettling all at once. I wasn’t sure if she meant here as in the city. Or here as in this moment. In her car. Back in her orbit after all these years.
For one brief, ridiculous moment, I considered inviting her in.
Just for a drink. Just to keep talking.
The thought was so absurd I nearly laughed.
“Goodnight, Dani.”
I stepped outside before I could say anything else. Or worse—change my mind.