Chapter Twenty
Raina
I was still relaxed from the massage I’d gotten at the resort’s spa yesterday when I arrived at the coffee shop Sunday afternoon to meet Eli as we’d planned.
The rest of the weekend at Neptune’s Kingdom had been everything Simon and I had hoped for and more.
After Alexander’s spontaneous decision to pursue a partnership with Simon, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.
The pressure was off, and we’d been able to simply enjoy the resort—the waterpark, the spa, the quiet moments stolen between activities. Yeah, especially that.
By the time we’d parted ways with Alexander and Brenda after dinner last night to go to our room, it was clear that Chuck had thoroughly talked himself out of contention.
He’d spent the entire weekend pushing his profit-maximizing ideas—charging for inner tubes, eliminating free cubbies, adding fees to every possible touchpoint—completely oblivious to the way Alexander’s smile grew more strained with each suggestion.
Chuck didn’t understand that Neptune’s Kingdom wasn’t just a business to Alexander.
It was a legacy. A love letter to families, built on the principle that every guest should feel welcomed, not nickel-and-dimed.
Profit mattered, of course, but not at the expense of the experience that made the resort special.
Simon and I understood that. We’d seen it from the moment we arrived and recognized it in the way Alexander’s eyes lit up when his grandchildren ran into his arms, and in Brenda’s pride when she talked about the early days of building something from nothing.
And because we understood, Alexander felt confident that his vision would be protected.
The contract discussion and negotiation was scheduled for the upcoming week. Chuck didn’t know yet—Alexander wanted to handle that conversation privately—but it was done. Simon had won.
We had won.
The drive back to the city this morning had been quiet, though. Simon behind the wheel, his jaw set, his responses to my attempts at conversation clipped and monosyllabic. At first, I’d worried something was wrong, that maybe he was having second thoughts about the deal, or about us.
Then I’d remembered what day it was and what I was doing this afternoon. Meeting with Eli.
Simon wasn’t thrilled about this coffee date.
He hadn’t said as much directly—that wasn’t his style—but when he’d parked the car and insisted on walking me up to my apartment, the tension radiating from him had been unmistakable.
He carried my bag, his free hand pressed to the small of my back as we took the elevator to my floor.
The touch felt possessive rather than protective, like he was reminding himself—or maybe me—that I was his.
At my door, I’d turned to face him, fishing my keys from my purse. “Thanks for carrying my stuff up.”
He set the bag down but didn’t step back. Instead, he crowded into my space, one hand braced against the doorframe beside my head, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him.
“What time are you meeting him?” The question came out casual enough, but I caught the edge beneath it.
“Two o’clock.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “At that coffee shop? The one on Lexington?”
I nodded. “Beans and Brew. Yes.”
Silence stretched between us. Simon’s gaze searched my face, his expression unreadable except for the storm brewing in his eyes.
“It’s just coffee, Simon,” I said softly, reaching up to rest my palm against his chest. His heart thudded beneath my fingers, steady but hard. “Catching up with an old friend. That’s all.”
He finally exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, though not all of it. “I know,” he said, sounding very much like a man trying to convince himself of something he didn’t fully believe.
I rose on my toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, letting my lips linger against the rough stubble of his jaw. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
His hand found my hip, squeezing gently, and for a moment I thought he might say something else. But he just nodded once, curtly, and stepped back and headed for the elevators, while I slipped inside my apartment with the distinct feeling that this conversation wasn’t over.
I was surprised to see this jealous side of him, honestly. Simon Powers, confident CEO, master of his domain, threatened by an ex-boyfriend I hadn’t seen in two years? It should have annoyed me.
Instead, I kind of liked it.
Simon wasn’t good at expressing emotions verbally.
He showed how he felt through actions. The way he touched me, how he looked at me, and the way he’d spent the past week proving that I was more than just a convenient arrangement or fling.
His jealousy spoke volumes about his feelings, even if he’d never say the words out loud.
It was oddly reassuring.
I’d replayed that moment in my doorway at least a dozen times while getting ready. Now, pushing through the door of Beans and Brew, I forced myself to set those thoughts aside. I was here to see Eli, and Simon’s brooding jealousy wasn’t going to help me navigate that conversation.
The coffee shop was busy for a Sunday afternoon, but most customers were grabbing drinks to go. A few tables in the back sat empty, and I claimed one after ordering my usual iced coffee—extra sweet, the way Simon always wrinkled his nose at.
I positioned myself with my back to the wall, so I’d see Eli when he arrived.
My stomach fluttered with nerves, which was ridiculous.
This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t even a rekindling of anything romantic.
We were friends now. Or at least, friendly acquaintances who’d once shared a life together.
Two years was a long time and we’d both undoubtedly changed.
I pulled out my phone and lost myself in a puzzle game, letting the familiar mechanics calm my racing thoughts. Time slipped by until a shadow fell across the table. I looked up into Eli’s familiar green eyes.
He gave me one of his charming grins. “Long time no see, Sweetheart.”
The old nickname landed wrong and even felt uncomfortable. It felt strange hearing that term of endearment from him, which was too intimate for who we were now.
“Hi, Eli,” I said, standing to give him a brief hug. I kept it light, friendly, pulling back before it could linger.
He already had a coffee, so he settled into the chair across from me, crossing his legs and smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in his pressed khakis. Some things never changed—Eli had always been fastidious about his appearance, even on lazy weekends.
He looked mostly the same, though his sandy blond hair was shorter than I’d ever seen it, giving him a more mature, polished look.
Still handsome in that clean-cut, conventional way.
Still dressed impeccably, even in casual weekend clothes.
There was a calmness to him that I remembered appreciating when we were together—I’d never once heard him raise his voice or seen him lose his temper.
“So,” he said, leaning back with an easy smile, “catch me up. How’s life been treating you?”
We fell into conversation about our careers, our families, the small updates that accumulate over two years of minimal contact.
Eli had done well in Michigan—a promotion, a nice apartment, a solid group of friends before he’d been offered a job here in Manhattan with a salary he couldn’t refuse.
He asked about Miles and Hazel, about my mom’s health, about whether I was still working in the same field.
I answered on autopilot, saying all the right things, and asking the appropriate follow-up questions. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized something I never would have predicted: I was bored.
Not that Eli was boring, exactly. He was pleasant company. Thoughtful, polite, genuinely interested in what I had to say. These were qualities that had drawn me to him in the first place along with the things we’d had in common.
But there was no spark. No undercurrent of tension, no moments where my breath caught or my pulse quickened. The connection we’d once shared had faded into something pale and distant.
I thought about Simon—his intensity, his sharp edges, the way a single look from him could make my entire body flush with heat. Being with my grumpy, complicated boss was infinitely more exciting than this polite conversation with a perfectly nice man.
The realization didn’t make me sad. It just confirmed what I’d already known: Eli and I had run our course a long time ago.
“I’m glad to hear Miles and Hazel are still together,” Eli said after taking a drink of his coffee. “Though I’m a little surprised they aren’t married by now.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually. They’re crazy about each other, but Miles wants to wait until he’s ready to step back from hockey. Getting married often leads to starting a family, and he’s not ready to divide his focus like that yet.”
“Makes sense. Professional athletes have a narrow window.” Eli nodded thoughtfully, then his expression shifted, something more vulnerable flickering across his features. “You know, I’ve often wondered where our relationship would be now if I hadn’t moved to Detroit.”
The conversation was veering into dangerous territory and I kept my voice light, noncommittal. “It’s impossible to know.”
He met and held my gaze. “I never got over you, you know.”
I fought to keep my face neutral, suppressing the urge to cringe. I didn’t want to hurt him—Eli was a good person, and he didn’t deserve that—but this was the last thing I’d expected to hear.
He reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Now that I’m back, I’d love to give us another chance.”
My mouth fell open in shock. We’d barely had contact after he moved away. A few texts here and there, a “happy birthday” message once a year, but nothing substantial. I’d always assumed he’d moved on long ago. Found someone new and built a life in Michigan that didn’t include me.