Chapter Twenty #2
I watch as she animatedly moves her hands, painting vivid pictures with her words. She describes the sprawling campus, the grand old buildings with ivy climbing up the brick, the noisy coffee shop where she studied for hours, and the exact spot where we first met.
“And we lived in this tiny off-campus apartment during my last year,” she tells Tate. “Your dad would wake up early to make me breakfast, then he’d walk me to class before driving an hour to work at your grandpa’s office.”
She doesn’t mention how exhausted I was most days. How I’d spend hours biting my tongue at my dad’s company before finally coming home, where Jules would have dinner waiting for me. She doesn’t mention how the weight of the world lifted the second I walked through that apartment door.
“We’d eat in front of the TV,” I add, my voice quieter, drawn back into the memory.
“Mom would work on her papers or get lost in a book, and I’d just…
be.” My fingers flex on the table as I recall the way my hand always drifted to her curls, twirling them absently as I decompressed.
She never minded. She always leaned into my touch.
She was my peace. My best moment of every day.
“We should walk the campus when we’re done,” I suggest. “Show Tate where we met.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, something unreadable flickering in her hazelnut eyes. “We should.”
Dinner winds down. When the check arrives, Jules reaches for her wallet, but I slide my card onto the tray before she gets the chance.
“You can pay next time,” I tell her. “This one’s on me.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying through your teeth right now?”
Tate and I both laugh as we stand and head to the door. I grab his coat from the car before we cross the quiet street and step onto the university campus.
The soft glow of the campus lights bathes the concrete path in golden hues.
The trees are half-bare, their auburn and gold leaves scattered across the sidewalks, crunching under our steps.
The air is thick with nostalgia, the smell of damp earth and old textbooks bringing me back to a time when my world had felt much simpler.
Tate runs ahead, his little feet kicking up leaves as Jules and I fall into step behind him.
I glance over at her before I reach for her hand, my fingers curling gently around hers.
“Remember when you purposely ran into me?” I tease, giving her hand a squeeze.
She scoffs, but her fingers twine easily with mine. “You mean when you ran into me?”
“You planned the whole thing,” I counter, smirking.
“You keep telling yourself that.” Her soft laughter stirs something deep in my chest.
When we reach the small quad where our paths first crossed twelve years ago, Tate skids to a stop and looks back at us. “Which way?”
I glance at Jules before motioning toward the familiar wooden bench beneath the towering oak tree. “This is the exact spot where your mom and I met,” I say, stopping in front of it.
Tate’s face lights up, eyes wide with fascination. “Really?”
“Really,” Jules confirms.
Tate glances down at our laced fingers, something thoughtful crossing his little face. And in that moment, I wonder if he’s connecting the dots. If he can see what we’re both too scared to admit yet.
“Show me how it happened!” Tate demands excitedly.
I let go of Jules’ hand, already grinning. “Alright, alright.” I turn my back to them, planting my feet exactly where I had been all those years ago. “I was standing here, minding my own business, when—”
“When you jumped right in front of me,” Jules interrupts, playful, teasing. “I had no choice but to crash into you.”
I scoff, glancing over my shoulder at her. “That is absolutely not how it went.”
Behind me, I hear the soft shuffle of her footsteps. The sound alone is enough to send a pulse through my chest. Then, just as before, she steps closer, her shoulder brushing against my back, gentle but deliberate.
I feel the warmth of her. I feel the weight of a memory slipping into something more.
“And just like that,” Jules murmurs, her voice softer now, “we started talking…”
She trails off, and the words hang between us, unfinished but heavy with meaning.
I turn around slowly, and when our eyes meet, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something deep in her gaze—it’s fragile, unspoken. Maybe even something she’s not ready to admit.
Tate, unaware of the tension tightening between his parents, throws his arms around both our legs, squeezing tightly. “And now you have me!” he announces, pride bursting from his small frame.
I chuckle, ruffling his hair as I look down at him. “Now we have you.” My voice is quieter now, steadier. “And you, bud, are the best thing we’ve ever done.”
Jules swallows, her eyes never leaving mine. The campus lights bathe her in a soft glow, catching the subtle movement of her throat as she shifts.
She hesitates, then speaks. “I love this place.” It’s more than just a statement. It’s a confession.
My breath tightens as I nod, feeling something I haven’t in a long time. “I do, too.”
But I’m not just talking about the campus.