Chapter 24
MINJI
It’s only been a week since Aaron left, and I already feel the space he’s carved into my life—quiet, persistent, a new ache beneath the surface.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I miss him with a kind of ferocity that startles me.
The sound of his laugh echoing in my apartment, the way he could turn my worst day around with a single crooked grin, the late-night texts that made me feel seen instead of simply observed.
I tell myself it’s absurd how quickly he became a habit. It’s so easy when I close my eyes to imagine him reaching for my hand across the table, or catching my gaze with that steady, patient warmth.
But wanting him—wanting more—carries a risk I’m not sure I’m brave enough to take.
Aaron is the one person I can’t seem to categorize, and that terrifies me.
If I let myself fall, there’s no guarantee of a safe landing.
And yet, as I stare at my phone, willing his name to light up the screen, I wonder if maybe—just this once—I want to leap anyway.
“You’re checking that phone again,” Eliza says, appearing in my doorway with a stack of paper and a huge smile on her face. “Must be some boyfriend.”
“It’s no one,” I reply too quickly, setting my phone face down on my desk. “What brings you by?”
“Catherine wants to see the revised brief for Hui-Wang by the end of the day.”
“Already finished. I’ll email it to her now.”
Eliza clears her throat. “Can I speak freely?”
“Depends.” I let out a chuckle.
“It’s all good. I wanted to let you know, you’ve been different lately. In a good way. Less…”
“Uptight?” I offer dryly. Eliza has been my assistant for years. While I can be a bit of a titan, I try not to be with her.
“I was going to say stressed, but sure, let’s go with uptight.” She grins. “Whatever’s causing it—or whoever—it suits you. And I love that for you. I love it when you are happy!”
After she leaves, I pull up the file, send it to Catherine, and then check my calendar for the rest of the day.
Three meetings, a conference call, and prep work for tomorrow’s deposition.
Usually, this would energize me—the packed schedule and the constant demands keep my mind occupied.
But today, all I can think about is that in eight days, I’ll be on a plane to San Francisco.
A notification flashes with his name.
Aaron
Just finished my second interview of the day. The host asked if I’m seeing anyone. I wanted to say yes.
My stomach does a complicated flip.
Me
Even though I don’t think that should be a question a host should ask, since it’s not related to the book… What did you tell them?
Aaron
Sometimes personal questions are asked, Honeybee. But I told her maybe if I play my cards right, and boy did that cause a series of follow-up questions. But I kept my mouth shut.
Me
Exercising your right to be quiet is good. Glad you learned something from shadowing me. HOWEVER, if you think playing your cards right means mouth-shut, I fear I will never tell you my secrets lol.
Aaron
Touché, but I will never tell a soul where you like me to spit during sex.
Me
AARON!!!!
Aaron
lol
Me
I would kill you
Aaron
Is that a promise, Counselor?
I bite my lip, glancing toward my open door as if someone could see my phone from all the way over there.
Me
More like a legal guarantee. Now leave me alone, I have a lot of work to do.
I set my phone down and try to refocus on work, but Aaron has a way of lingering in my thoughts.
The truth is that sleep has been a rare and fragile commodity since he left.
Nights are long and restless, and my dreams blur the line between memory and longing.
Last night’s decision to stay over at his apartment proved less of a comfort than I’d anticipated.
Every room brought back memories of shared laughter and stolen kisses, all reminders of what we had forged in such a brief yet intense timespan. So, I decided that until it’s time for San Francisco, I’ll stay at home and sleep in the comfort of my own bed.
My phone pings, and I quickly pick it up.
It’s a new message from Aaron, accompanied by an image that takes my breath away.
I blink at the photograph. Lace lingerie is laid out with a gleaming pair of handcuffs resting next to a bottle that I can only assume contains lube.
My eyes widen slightly as I take in the playful audacity of his gesture.
Aaron
Our time in San Fran will be well spent.
My door opens again, and in walks Eliza with a stack of documents, and I quickly lock my phone.
“The Conners’ paperwork needs your signature before noon,” she says, placing it on my desk. “And Tamara Wilcox is already in the conference room waiting for you.”
“Tamara’s early early? That’s a first.” I glance at my watch, surprised to see she arrived twenty minutes ahead of schedule.
“She seems…” Eliza twists her lips, “Agitated.”
I sigh, tucking my phone away. Aaron’s steamy texts will have to wait.
“Tell her I’ll be right there.” I quickly sign the documents. As I gather my files for the Wilcox case, my phone buzzes again. Just a quick glance, I promise myself.
Aaron
Was that too much?
I hesitate for half a heartbeat before typing my reply—more daring than anything I’ve sent him before, yet it feels exhilaratingly liberating.
There’s a flush of rebellion running through me as I hit send before doubts creep in, before I revert to the safe professionalism that defines so much of my life.
Me
No. But fun fact
every morning, I wake up dripping wet and desperate for you.
Aaron
Fuck, Honeybee. I’m supposed to do a radio interview in ten minutes, and now all I can think about is you… tasting you on my tongue. Do you have a min to FaceTime?!?
The heat that floods my body is immediate and overwhelming. I press my thighs together, aware of how the door is still open, how anyone could walk by and see the flush creeping up my neck.
Me
An Aaron minute is equivalent to five… maybe ten minutes, which neither of us has.
Aaron
No fun. Send me something to hold me over??
This is insane. I’m at work, getting myself worked up over dirty texts like some kind of sex-starved teenager. But God, the way Aaron affects me, even from a thousand miles away, is intoxicating.
Me
About to meet with Tamara Wilcox. I’ll FaceTime you when I get off. How does that sound?
Aaron
Have security on standby. I don’t like how she exploded last time. And yes, please FaceTime!
I shut the conference room door behind me, exhaling with relief. Tamara actually kept her hands to herself this time. No flying staplers or hurled legal pads. She’d signed the revised settlement terms while delivering a twenty-minute soliloquy about her ex-husband’s ‘psychological warfare tactics.’
Back at my desk, my phone screen glows with a Kakao notification. My stomach drops before I even read it.
Mom
Will you come for Chuseok this year? Your mother misses seeing her daughter’s face in person, not just through a screen.
Something cold settles in my chest. Five years.
Five birthdays, five New Year celebrations, five autumn harvest festivals I’ve missed.
I’ve become an expert at crafting excuses—pandemic travel restrictions, impossible deadlines, video calls that never quite capture the scent of my mother’s kimchi jjigae or the warmth of her hand on mine.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I compose another hollow promise to check my schedule.
Chuseok and the Hui-Wang case overlap perfectly, and with partnership decisions looming, I’ve already made my choice.
Then there’s Evelyn deciding to take a month-long family trip to Taiwan, which puts a strain on anything this month, since she asked not to be contacted about her divorce, and then my August calendar resembles a war zone.
I massage my temples, feeling the familiar throb of tension building behind my eyes. When exactly did I become this person? All briefs and motions, no family holidays, and now… whatever undefined thing is happening with Aaron.
My phone lights up with Aaron’s name.
Aaron
Tsunami Tamara leave any survivors?
I feel the corners of my mouth lift as I reply.
Me
All limbs intact. She was surprisingly docile.
Aaron
Had my finger hovering over ‘book flight’ just in case—your knight in shining armor and all that.
A shadow falls across my desk. Eliza hovers in the doorway, wincing slightly.
“William would like a moment,” she says, her tone carrying a silent apology.
My stomach clenches. Perfect. Just what I need.
“Fine. Send him in.”
William appears in my doorframe like he owns it, six feet of tailored entitlement. The navy Tom Ford—his power suit—hugs his shoulders, while that ridiculously ugly fucking purple bow tie with green polka dots sits at his throat like some exotic poisonous frog.
I look back down at my legal pad. “Make it quick, William. I’m in the middle of an emergency motion.”
“Dinner tonight? We can talk about the Thornton case while we see about…” He pauses, voice dropping half an octave. “Rebuilding what we had.”
Something catches in my throat and I almost fucking vomit. “There’s nothing to rebuild.” I force a smile. “We’re colleagues now. That’s the extent of our relationship.”
He shifts his weight against my doorframe, mouth curving into what I’m sure he practices in mirrors. “I’ve been reflecting on us. On why things came to an end and I think we can come to mutual—”
“William, just stop. You cheated and you broke up with me. End of story. That is all it takes for me to leave, and I don’t give second chances to cheaters.” I tap my pen against the desk calendar. “Now, unless you have something case-related—”