Chapter Fourteen
Corbin
Susan sits across from me in the conference room, tapping her pen against her teeth as I skim through her proposal.
“So?” she drawls, leaning forward, her arms pressing deliberately against the table. The move is calculated, an unsubtle attempt at distraction. “What do you think?”
I flick my eyes over the document once more before shrugging. “Looks fine.”
It could use some work, but I’m not interested in spending any more time on this—or with her—than absolutely necessary.
“You don’t think we should target other avenues?” She tilts her head, studying me too closely.
I shake my head. “Nope. Social media is their focus, so let’s stick with that.”
Susan twirls the pen between her fingers, then shifts gears. “How have you been?”
And there it is. My cue to leave.
“Good.” I push back from the table and stand, ready to put space between us.
Susan’s smile stretches, slow and syrupy. “Got any plans tonight?”
None that involve her.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping it vague as I step toward the door.
“You should be there,” she calls after me as my hand wraps around the black steel knob. “For the presentation tomorrow.”
I glance back at her, forcing a tight smile. “You’ll do fine.”
Then I’m out.
I walk briskly down the hallway, resisting the urge to roll my shoulders like I’m shaking off an unwanted weight. Twenty minutes in that conference room with Susan felt like an hour.
The idea of starting my own firm is looking better by the day.
As I push open my office door, I stop short.
Jules is standing by the window, gazing out at the parking lot below, her fingers lightly grazing the windowsill. The afternoon light catches in her curls, making them look like something I should reach out and touch.
My heart skitters. I blink, half expecting her to vanish if I move too fast.
“Jules?”
She turns, her hazelnut eyes locking onto mine, her expression unsure. A curl slips forward, brushing her cheek, and my fingers twitch with the need to push it back.
“Hi,” she says, shifting on her feet. “I, um, should have called first.”
I push the door closed behind me and take a step closer, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from doing something stupid. Like touching her.
“You don’t have to call,” I say, shaking my head. “I always enjoy seeing you.”
Her lips press together, and for a second, I think she’s fighting a smile. Instead, she holds out a brown paper bag and a to-go cup.
“Thought you might need lunch. And coffee.”
I take them, my fingers brushing hers. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She shrugs. “It’s chicken salad on sourdough. I know it’s your favorite.”
I want to kiss her so badly right now that my chest aches with it. Instead, I move to my desk, setting the bag down before lowering into my chair. I motion for her to sit, needing some kind of buffer between us.
Jules settles into the chair across from me, crossing one leg over the other. My eyes flick down before I force them away. But the memory is already there—her thighs under my hands, her body moving over mine, the way she moaned my name that night.
I clear my throat. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” She waves a hand like she’s brushing away the weight of whatever she came here to say. “I, uh… would it be okay if we did family dinner at my place tomorrow night?”
I study her, but she doesn’t drop her gaze.
“Of course,” I say easily.
She hesitates, something flickering across her face, before she blurts out, “I just don’t like the idea of you doing all the work while I just… show up.”
I lean back in my chair. “Jules, you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know, I just…” She exhales. “We’re in this together. We should share equal responsibility. I’ll make dinner this week. We’ll do your place next week, and you can cook.”
The corner of my mouth tips up. “You sure you trust my cooking?”
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Corbin, you literally made homemade noodles last week.”
“Fair point.”
She shifts again, her posture relaxing slightly. “How was volunteering in Tate’s class?”
I’m caught off guard by the change in subject but recover quickly. “Good. Lance Yeardley got switched to another class. Apparently, it wasn’t just Tate he had issues with.”
Jules sighs, shaking her head. “I really hate that kid.”
I let out a low chuckle. “You don’t hate anyone, Jules.”
She lifts a brow. “I hate that kid.”
“He punched Tate,” I remind her. “I hate him, too.”
A beat of silence.
And then she smiles. Really smiles. The kind that knocks the breath out of my lungs because I haven’t seen it in so damn long.
I have no idea what this is between us, but I know one thing for sure. I’m not ready to let it slip through my fingers again.
“I’m, uh, thinking about painting again,” Jules confesses, her voice hesitant but determined.
I sit up straighter, surprised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gnaws on her lower lip, a nervous habit I’ve memorized. “I went on another date with Trey.”
Jealousy claws at my chest, but I force it down. I have no right to it. “A second date.”
She exhales, shaking her head. “I slept with you two weeks ago, then jumped into dating. It was… not a great idea.”
Something shifts in my chest. “Are we finally going to talk about that?”
“Dating other people?” she teases, one brow lifting in challenge.
“No.” I try to hide a smirk. “The sleeping together thing.”
She presses her lips together, considering. Then, finally, she says, “I don’t know what that was.” She looks down at her lap, then back at me. “But I… I’m still… attracted to you. In that way.”
I study her, trying to figure out where she’s going with this. “Why are you telling me this?”
She shrugs, her expression tightening. “I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to be honest. With you. With myself.”
There’s a long pause, and then she chuckles lightly, the sound breathy and uncertain. “I understand the confusion. While I figure out how I feel about what happened two weeks ago—while I process—I think painting is a better way to pass the time than dating.”
I nod, waiting, sensing there’s more.
“But, Corbin?” Her voice softens, like she’s preparing herself for something.
“Eventually, I will start dating. I know you moved on a long time ago, and I don’t want you to think I’m just…
sitting here, pining away for you. I just—” she takes a deep breath, as if steadying herself “—I process slower than you do.”
God, she has no idea.
There are so many things I want to say.
I’m pining away for you, too. I process things just as slowly as you do. I want you, Jules. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you go.
Instead, I settle on the one thing that’s completely, undeniably true.
“I’m not sure I’ve moved on, Jules.”
Her breath catches. She stares at me, eyes swimming with emotions she can’t name—confusion, regret, guilt.
And something else. Something I don’t dare hope for.
Yet.
“I want us to get along,” Jules adds. “It’s been so good for Tate.”
“It has,” I agree.
“So, I’m going to paint,” she decides. “And we’re going to get along.”
“Anything else?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “I think that’s it for now.”
“Tate hasn’t forgotten anything.”
Jules sighs. “I know.”
“He’s doing good,” I tell her. I know she needs to hear it. “And you’re a good mom.”
She stands from her chair and heads back over to the window.
I watch the way her hips sway in the skirt she has on, the graceful way she carries herself.
Her thighs are toned and tan, but that’s not the most attractive thing about her.
Her mind is. The way she just showed up here and admitted to still finding me attractive.
The decision to paint instead of date. She’s not the Jules I was married to for eight years. She’s better.
And I hate to think that she’s better because she’s not around me anymore.
I wait for her to say something, but she just stands there, her back to me.
I rise from my chair and walk over to stand beside her, the heat of her body pulling me in like a current. I want to run my fingers through her hair. I want to thread my fingers through hers. I want to touch her. It’s overwhelming, this need.
“Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice, Corbin.”
The words knock the air out of my lungs. “What do you mean?”
She licks her lips before looking up at me. “We should have tried harder for him. We should have fought like hell to give him the family he deserves. I… I live with so much guilt over the fact that we didn’t even try.”
“We did try, Jules.”
I watch as she scratches her cheek, eyes darting away. “I don’t think I did.”
She’s being incredibly honest today. That’s… new.
“We’re trying now,” I offer, knowing it’s not really what she wants to hear. She wants to hear that we made a mistake. That we failed our son. That we could have fixed it.
But I don’t know if that’s the truth. Eventually, I believe she would have left. She would have realized how small her life was. She would have broken my heart if I hadn’t beaten her to it.
“You’re right,” she caves, her voice small.
Silence settles between us like a late winter fog. Thick. Unshakable.
And even though I know I shouldn’t—I know better—I reach for a tendril of curled auburn on her cheek. Slowly, I slip it behind her ear, my knuckles ghosting along her cheekbone.
Her hazelnut eyes grow impossibly large.
She doesn’t pull away.
Her lips part, and for the briefest moment, I swear she leans in.
I open my mouth to tell her how attracted I am to her, to confess that I never stopped wanting her—when my door slams open and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jules,” my dad’s voice rumbles through the office. Like a wrecking ball. “What a… surprise.”
I watch the walls immediately go up as she turns to face him, her expression smoothing into something indecipherable.
No. No, don’t shut me out again.
“Hi, Mr. Banks,” she offers.
“To what do we owe this… intrusion?” The old man gives her a snarky smirk.
“Dropping off lunch,” she says before she turns to me. For a second, she hesitates. Just a second.
And then, in another shocking twist, her hand reaches for mine.
Her fingers squeeze mine gently, just for a moment, but it feels like a promise.
Then, she steps around my dad and hurries out the door.
I’m still standing there, my hand tingling, when my dad scoffs.
“Can you believe her?” He shoves a thumb over his shoulder, disgust evident on his face. “That woman is a plague that won’t fucking go away.”
And something inside me snaps.
“That’s the mother of my child you’re talking about,” I warn. My voice is sharp. Unrelenting. “Knock it off.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “What’s crawled up your ass?”
“What do you want now?” I ask him as I head back to my desk to my waiting lunch. Jules made this for me. I refuse to let his bullshit ruin it.
“Susan says you’re not going to the presentation tomorrow with the pharmaceutical company,” he gets straight to the point.
“I have my own meetings and presentations to worry about,” I tell him.
“You’ll go with her,” he instructs. Like I’m some goddamn intern. “And you’ll drive.”
I lean back in my chair, my posture relaxed, my voice anything but. “No.”
His eyes darken. He doesn’t like being told no.
“Do you want me to fire you?” he threatens.
“Go right ahead,” I lament, taking a bite of my sandwich. Because for the first time, I think I might actually mean it.
He points a finger at me. “You’re on thin ice, Corbin. Pull your shit together.”
I watch him leave and wonder what the hell’s gotten into me. I’ve never talked to him that way before.
Then again, maybe it was long overdue.