Chapter 15 #2
I busy myself with reviewing the Donovan case files, though my mind refuses to focus on the details.
The silence in the office grows heavier by the minute, punctuated only by the clicking of keys and the occasional notification from Aaron’s phone.
I catch myself stealing glances at him when I think he’s not looking.
When did everything get so complicated? A week ago, I was certain about my life, my choices, my boundaries. Now I’m sitting here with my stomach in knots because a man I slept with and kicked out might be texting another woman.
“I’m going to grab coffee before the mediation,” I announce, standing abruptly. “Would you like some?”
Aaron looks up, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “Sure. Thanks.”
“The usual?”
“You know my coffee order?”
I recite it, feeling ridiculously pleased that I’ve caught him off guard.
He nods. “Yes, thank you.”
I escape to the break room, grateful for the momentary reprieve.
The espresso machine hisses and gurgles as I prepare our drinks, my mind racing.
What am I doing? I made the right call on Friday night.
I know I did. Letting Aaron in, letting myself feel something real for him, would only end in disaster.
I’ve seen too many relationships implode, watched too many people tear each other apart.
Yet here I am, making his coffee exactly how he likes it, feeling pathetically hopeful about his small smile.
I find Aaron on the phone when I return to my office, his voice low and intimate. He glances up when I enter, murmuring, “I have to go. Talk later.” The way he says it, soft and warm, makes my chest ache. I don’t like feeling this way.
“Here you go.” I place his coffee on the desk, careful not to let our fingers brush.
“Thanks.” He takes a sip, eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Perfect.”
“Who was that on the phone?” Minji, you need to reel it the fuck in.
Aaron shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. “Axel. He’s checking in about Friday.”
“Oh.” I feel simultaneously relieved and foolish. “How is he?”
“Concerned. I kept to myself all weekend, I wasn’t in the talking mood.” Aaron meets my eyes. “He thinks I left his launch party for nothing.”
The words land like a slap. I deserve it, but it stings, nonetheless. “I see.” Axel did tell me not to get Aaron’s hopes up, and I did it anyway, but I quickly put an end to it.
“For what it’s worth,” he continues, his voice softening slightly, “I don’t regret leaving with you. I just wish—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
I sink into my chair, suddenly exhausted. “Aaron, I—”
My phone rings, cutting me off. It’s Eliza, reminding me that the Donovans have arrived early for the mediation. I take a deep breath, gathering my composure.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her, then hang up. “Duty calls.”
Aaron nods, closing his laptop. “I’ll follow your lead.”
We walk to the conference room in silence, maintaining a careful distance between us. I can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, but now isn’t the time. The Donovans and his attorney are already seated, the tension between them palpable even through the glass walls.
“Ready?” I ask Aaron quietly.
“Always,” he replies, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the warmth that used to be there. It disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by his new professional mask.
The mediation is brutal. Mr. Donovan is belligerent, interrupting his wife at every opportunity. His attorney, a slick-haired man in an expensive suit, keeps shooting me condescending smiles. I maintain my composure, methodically dismantling their arguments with evidence and precedent.
Throughout it all, I’m hyperaware of Aaron sitting quietly in the corner, taking occasional notes.
I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s judging me for my sharp retorts or admiring my legal strategy.
Once, when Mr. Donovan makes a particularly nasty comment about his wife’s contributions to their business, I catch Aaron’s eye.
The flash of anger there mirrors my own, and I silently pray he doesn’t make a scene. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
Three hours later, we’ve hammered out a preliminary agreement. It’s not perfect, but Mrs. Donovan seems satisfied, which is what matters. As everyone files out, I hang back, gathering my notes. Aaron does the same, and suddenly we’re alone again.
“You were impressive in there.” He breaks the silence.
“Thank you.” I give him a small smile, oddly pleased by his praise. “Was it helpful for your research?”
“Very.” He pauses, studying me.
“It’s nearly one. Do you want to grab lunch?” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
“I can’t.” He pauses. “I have plans.”
“Oh.” I try to keep my disappointment out of my voice. “With Katia?”
I sound jealous and possessive, as if I have any right to question who he spends his time with after I explicitly told him we couldn’t be more than colleagues.
“You’re confusing Minji, but no.” His expression is unreadable. “I’m meeting Grayson. He’s in town for a few more days.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just—tell him I said hello.”
“I will.” Aaron gathers his notebook and tucks it into his messenger bag.
I watch him walk away, his shoulders straight, his stride purposeful.
It’s crazy how I didn’t feel this way after William, with whom I dated for four years.
Yet, after sharing a night with Aaron, after a decade, I suddenly feel like the ground is shifting beneath me.
This isn’t typical for me—I’m rarely this unsettled, especially not because of a man.
Honestly, Aaron isn’t just any man. He’s the one who first made me consider wanting more, and I ran from him back then.
When Aaron returns from lunch, he smells faintly of beer and something spicy, and there’s a relaxed set to his shoulders that wasn’t there this morning. Seeing his brother clearly did him some good.
“How was lunch?” I ask, trying to sound casual as he takes his seat across from me.
“Good. Grayson says hello back.” He doesn’t elaborate, just opens his notebook and flips to a clean page. I nod, swallowing the dozen questions I want to ask. Did you talk about me? What did you tell him? Does he think I’m horrible for what I did? Are we okay?
We work through the afternoon in this strange new reality—well, strange for Aaron because he is not flirty—polite, professional, distant.
Every so often, I catch him watching me with an expression I can’t quite decipher.
It’s not anger, exactly, but something more complicated.
When our fingers accidentally brush as I hand him a document, I feel the jolt all the way to my toes, but his face remains impassive.
By five o’clock, I’m mentally exhausted from maintaining this facade. “I think we’ve covered everything for today.” I close the file.
“Great.” He stands, gathering his things with efficient movements. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Aaron,” I call as he reaches the door. He pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Are we… Is this how it’s going to be now?”
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he faces me. “How did you expect it to be, Minji?”
“I don’t know. Not like this.” I gesture vaguely between us.
“You made it clear what you wanted. I’m respecting your boundaries.”
“By barely speaking to me? By acting like I don’t exist unless it’s about work?”
“What do you want from me? You told me to keep things professional. That’s what I’m doing. We’re two people who don’t know each other, unless… You want to dig up the past.”
“I know, but—” I stop, uncertain how to continue. What right do I have to ask for more when I’m the one who set these terms?
“But what?” He takes a step toward me, and suddenly the office feels too small.
“Can we go back to how we were before?”
“Before what, exactly? Before you invited me upstairs? Before you kicked me out? Or before I shadowed you at all? Or do you mean over a decade ago when I shamelessly flirted with you?”
I have no answer that doesn’t make me sound selfish, confused, or both.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “You’re right. I’m being unfair.”
“I’m here to shadow you, and that’s all. A shadow doesn’t speak; I thought you would appreciate that. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get going. Have a good night.”
“Good night.” This is my fault. I pushed him away, and now I’m surprised he’s staying away. What kind of twisted logic is that?