Chapter 12
AARON
“Minji, wait.” My fingers catch her elbow, halting her retreat. “Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” she says a little too quickly, her forced brightness wavering for an instant before she steadies herself. “This is quite the party. Your brother certainly knows how to make an impression.”
I guide her towards a small alcove away from the main crowd, still holding her elbow. “I didn’t—I fucked up. I didn’t know Nessa was going to be here. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t owe me explanations about your personal life,” she replies. “We agreed to keep things professional, remember?”
“Is that what we’re doing right now? Being professional?”
“What exactly are you implying?” She frowns.
“I’m saying you’re running away from me, like a child.” I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “And I want to know why.”
“I wasn’t running, and I’m not a child.” Her voice is clipped, cheeks flushed. She stands her ground, shoulders squared. “I was just exploring. Is that not allowed?”
“Of course,” I agree, not wanting to make this situation any worse. “But most people explore at a normal pace, not with a record-shattering hundred-meter dash.”
She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms at her chest. “Fine. You want honesty? I felt awkward standing alone while you had a cozy reunion with your ex-fiancée. You could’ve excused yourself after our conversation ended. But no, you ignored me and left me there like a prop. Not a great feeling.”
“Look, I handled that poorly.”
Her eyes narrowed and lips pressed thin in disdain. “As I said, you don’t owe me an explanation. I just want you to know I didn’t like it. And please don’t get the wrong idea after today, I’m not looking to rekindle anything that happened in the past. I don’t want you to get your hopes up that—”
“I’m sorry, Minji.” I cut her off because I don’t want to hear her end things before it even begins.
“I don’t want your sorrows…” She sighs deeply. “Besides, Grayson already filled me in on the highlight reel. You and Vanessa were together for eight years and—”
“Is that judgment I hear?”
“Of course not. I’m not in any position to judge anyone.
It’s just…” She pauses. “In my line of work, Aaron, the most devoted couples in the world eventually discover they’re incompatible.
I’m not implying yours was doomed from the start, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t validate my entire professional philosophy.
It’s not a criticism, it’s just statistics. ”
Now she’s all attorney. “So, what?” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice. “You’re going to analyze my failed engagement and add it to the file you’re keeping on human folly?”
She gives a huff of laughter. “You said it, not me.”
“I’m not a case study, Minji.”
“Neither am I, but you do it, too. Isn’t that why you are shadowing me? What’s that American saying… If it isn’t the kettle calling the teapot black? Or something like that.”
I fight back the urge to laugh because what’s happening right now is no laughing matter. “You think I write about love because I don’t understand it?”
She hesitates. “I think you write about it because you want it to be real. But you also want to control the narrative.”
I look at her, really look, and notice the tight set of her mouth, the determined avoidance in her eyes.
I realize how much effort she spends not letting herself be the protagonist in anyone’s story, especially her own.
I want to right all the wrongs of her past relationships if she lets me. “You’re doing it again.” I sigh.
“Doing what?”
“Using other people’s pain to reinforce your walls.” I make my voice gentle, so she can’t mistake this for an attack. “Yes, Vanessa and I were engaged. Yes, it ended badly. That doesn’t mean every relationship is doomed from the start.”
She pivots to face me fully, the wall at her back, and her eyes are as dark as the city beyond the glass.
“I never said they were doomed from the start. Just inevitably from somewhere in the middle. It happens more often than people think. You’ve had a failed engagement, and I had a failed relationship.
Obviously, going into those relationships, we never thought breaking up would be the outcome.
But it was the outcome nonetheless.” She holds my gaze.
“And how do you think we move forward from that?” Yeah, I’m laying it on thick because I know what I want, and I’ll be damned if I let her slip through my fingers again.
“We?” Her eyebrows come together. “There is no we. What the hell are you talking about? No, don’t answer that. I’m convinced romance writers see a connection where there’s only proximity.”
I step even closer, close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume. I can’t help but smile.
“Proximity doesn’t create connections.” I’m struggling to keep my voice even. “But it does reveal them.”
She looks away, focusing on something over my shoulder. I can almost see her mentally retreating, building those walls brick by brick.
“There’s already a connection between us, Minji.”
“What I know,” she starts, “is that you’re still hung up on your ex-fiancée. I saw your face and your body language when she walked in. Whatever you think is happening between us is just—”
“Is just what?” I step closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume. “A distraction? A rebound?”
“I wasn’t going to be that harsh, but since you brought it up.” She shrugs, the movement elegant even in its dismissiveness.
I take a deep breath. “Vanessa caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting to see her here. But that doesn’t mean I’m hung up on her. She and I are long over and—”
“You don’t owe me explanations,” she repeats—her lawyer’s mantra.
“I know I don’t. But I want you to understand.
” I run a hand over my face, trying to find the right words.
“When you’ve spent years with someone, built a life with them, there’s always going to be…
something. A reaction. It doesn’t mean I want her back.
I haven’t seen her in years and haven’t thought about her since the breakup. ”
Minji studies me, her expression unreadable. “What do you want, Aaron? Because you explaining yourself to me when you don’t have to means you want something.”
The question hangs between us, weighted with possibilities. In the background, the party continues—glasses clinking, laughter rising and falling, music pulsing. But in our little alcove, time seems suspended.
“You. I want a chance with you. This must be fate that we have crossed paths again after a decade. Out of all the law firms in New York City, I end up at yours. You coming back from your leave of absence earlier than planned—it’s all fate.”
“Aaron…” Her voice is softer now, less armor-plated. “You don’t know what you’re saying. We barely know each other.”
“That’s not true,” I counter, emboldened by the fact that she hasn’t walked away. “I knew you twelve years ago—”
“You knew of me,” she corrects me.
“You’re right for the most part, and I will be getting to know you all over again in the next three weeks. However, you’re still brilliant and courageous. I know that you care deeply about your clients, even though you try to hide it. I know you enjoy listening to my audiobooks.”
She blushes at that last part, and the sight of color spreading across her cheeks makes my heart race.
“Coincidence isn’t fate.”
“Maybe not,” I agree. “But it’s not nothing either. Look, I’m not asking for a happily ever after. I’m just asking for a chance. A real chance. If you want to pick up where we left off before you ghosted me… We can, but we sure as hell can try something different.”
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it, studying me like I’m some logic puzzle she can brute force. A long silence. Then finally, “You’re relentless.”
“I write romances for a living, Minji. Persistence is step one.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Only if you want me to be.”
Minji looks down at her hands, then back up at me.
For a moment, I see something in her eyes—a flicker of possibility, maybe even longing—before she masks her emotions.
“Aaron, it’s been a week since you arrived at the firm, and it wasn’t even a full week.
You’re coming on too strong; it’s a turn-off.
I want you to stop living in the past because I’m not that Minji anymore.
I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants.
So, let’s just focus on getting through tonight professionally, please.
I’m here as your colleague, not your date. ”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I swallow hard, the taste of rejection bitter on my tongue. “I understand,” I manage, even as disappointment settles in my chest. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“You haven’t. I just think we need to be realistic about our situation. We aren’t in college anymore.”
“Realistic,” I repeat. “Right.”
I step back, creating distance between us.
“Fair enough. College was a long time ago.” Each time she pushes me away, it cuts deeper than before.
I manage a smile anyway, feeling the music change around us—something slower now, with bass notes that seem to vibrate up through the soles of my heels.
The party swirls on, but we’ve found ourselves in a strange bubble of quiet amid the chaos.
“Dance with me,” I add quickly, “just as colleagues.”
Minji’s eyes narrow slightly. She studies me for what feels like forever before giving a nod. “One song.”
When I extend my hand, her fingers meet mine with the cautious touch of someone approaching a wild animal. I lead her toward a less crowded corner of the dance floor. I place my hand at the small of her back and feel her stiffen briefly before relaxing into my touch.
“I really am sorry about earlier,” I say as we begin to move with the music. “Vanessa showing up threw me off balance.”
“It’s fine,” she murmurs, but her eyes drift over my shoulder, scanning the room. “Is she still here?”