Chapter 26
MINJI
Today I fly to see Aaron, and I regret choosing an early flight.
I couldn’t sleep because of a gut feeling that something’s wrong with Evelyn, who’s gone quiet on me since our initial meeting.
I emailed James’s attorney, and they confirmed he has gone radio silent, which I take to mean they’re probably trying to reconcile.
Still, I refuse to believe it. I just can’t.
This case is under intense scrutiny as I aim for partner.
I check my inbox for the millionth time—nothing new.
I scan through my phone messages: no updates from Evelyn, no messages from James’s lawyer, not even a spam call about renewing my imaginary car’s extended warranty.
At least Eliza is awake—she’s sent a sunrise emoji and a ‘DO GREAT THINGS!’ meme, as if she suspects my entire day depends on it.
I go through the airport routine in a fog: TSA strips me down, then apologizes, a tourist nudges my heel with a rolling suitcase, and the only coffee near my gate is from a kiosk with ‘cash only, sorry’ written in pink Sharpie.
My phone buzzes several times at the gate.
My stomach tightens—Evelyn is canceling our contract?
I scramble for my phone, then breathe a sigh of relief when I see Demi’s name.
Demi
Condoms, I hope you packed them. And I better not find out you checked your work email. This weekend is for three things only: GREAT SEX! tequila shots and room service.
I text back that I’ve deleted my work email app (a lie) and set up an out-of-office reply (truth).
She knows me too well to believe the first part.
I glance at my watch, calculating the flight time to San Francisco.
Something flutters in my chest at the thought of seeing Aaron waiting at the arrivals gate.
I picture those airport scenes in movies—the tearful reunions, the handmade welcome signs.
The image of Aaron holding up a heart-covered poster makes me snort.
I’m thankful Aaron isn’t as sappy as the male leads in those movies.
“Now boarding flight 1422 to San Francisco.”
I shoulder my carry-on and join the line, handing my boarding pass to a gate agent who barely looks up from her scanner. Halfway down the jet bridge, my phone vibrates.
Aaron
Can’t wait to see you this afternoon. Already checked us in. King bed confirmed.
My fingers fly across the screen before airplane mode cuts me off.
Me
Boarding now. Try not to look too eager when I arrive. It’s unbecoming.
I add a smirking emoji, so he knows I’m only teasing.
Aaron
Too late. Been practicing my nonchalant pillar lean for an hour and failed miserably. Expect pouncing upon arrival.
A smile escapes me as I stow my phone and claim my window seat.
The businessman next to me offers a curt nod before diving back into his spreadsheet.
Thank God. No chitchat. I loathe forced conversation with strangers.
The plane begins to move, and I inhale deliberately.
Seventy-two hours away from New York. No depositions, no meetings, no William with those repulsive bow ties, no partnership anxiety.
Just Aaron and me, untangling whatever this is between us.
The aircraft lurches skyward, and my fingers clench the armrests.
Flying doesn’t usually unnerve me, but today my nerves crackle like live wires.
This journey spans more than just geography—I’m crossing a line I’ve guarded since William.
Before William and after college, Aaron, if I’m honest.
“First flight?” The businessman glances at my whitened knuckles.
“No,” I reply sharply, then relent. “Just preoccupied.”
He returns to his numbers without further interest. Below us, Manhattan diminishes—its familiar street grid shrinking to toy-size, then abstraction, before vanishing entirely behind a curtain of clouds.
Six hours in the air. Six hours to rehearse what I’ll say when I see him.
The businessman beside me sighs, snaps his laptop shut, and tugs an eye mask over his face.
Just like that—disconnected. I pull out my tablet, my finger hovering over the case files folder before sliding to the Audible app instead.
Aaron’s latest, Sinful Love, waits at the sixty-seven percent mark.
His voice floods my AirPods—deeper than in our calls, more controlled.
The cabin disappears as he narrates, his words painting images that make my cheeks flush hot.
The fictional couple’s hands finally find each other’s bodies after eight chapters of longing glances and almost-touches.
Three hours over America’s heartland, I hit pause—my pulse thrums in my throat, my wrists, between my thighs.
I close my eyes and exhale into the white noise of engines.
This weekend will be filled with fun and relaxation.
From the Napa vineyards under California sun, candlelight at that restaurant he couldn’t stop talking about, to his king-sized bed.
The spark from a decade ago definitely hasn’t died, but I do hope I don’t indirectly mess this up.
My heart rate accelerates as we begin our descent into San Francisco.
The landscape below shifts from farmland to suburbs to the distinctive geography of the Bay Area.
I check my reflection in my compact mirror, touching up my lipstick and smoothing my hair.
I can’t believe this is really happening.
I’m one of the first to disembark the plane, striding quickly through the terminal, scanning faces as I near the security exit.
Then I see him. Aaron stands out, taller than the others.
His eyes scan the crowd until they meet mine.
He’s dressed in dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt, and that dimpled smile of his—the one that never fails to make me catch my breath.
He doesn’t run to me or make a scene like in those movies. Instead, he waits, his eyes never leave mine as I close the distance between us. When I’m finally standing before him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, neither of us moves.
“Hi.” The single syllable nearly makes my knees buckle.
“Hi yourself,” I manage, suddenly shy despite everything we’ve shared and done to one another in the bedroom.
“You’re really here.” His eyes roam my face.
“I am.” I set down my carry-on and take a step closer, drawn to him like gravity. “In the flesh.”
His fingertips brush mine, a tentative touch that sends electricity racing up my arm. “I was starting to think I’d imagined how beautiful you are.”
“Careful.” I blush, fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms right here for everyone to see. I’m not a fan of public displays of affection, but if I’m being honest with myself, I would love a little PDA right now. “Your romance novelist is showing.”
He laughs. “Can’t help it. You inspire my worst literary tendencies.”
The world around us begins to fade as Aaron finally closes the distance, wrapping me in a hug that feels like coming home.
His strong arms are a sanctuary I didn’t realize I was yearning for until this very moment.
My body responds instinctively, molding against his.
My heart pounds, and I have to tell myself to calm down.
“I missed you,” he whispers against my hair.
“I missed you, too. So much.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes darkening as they drop to my lips.
For a moment, I think he might kiss me right here amidst the rush of travelers and luggage carts.
Part of me wants him to—the part that’s been aching for his touch since the moment he left New York.
Instead, he takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine.
“The car’s outside. Do you need to pick up any checked luggage?”
I shake my head. “Nope, just this,” I reply, lifting my carry-on.
“Traveling light, huh? I’m impressed.”
“I’m only here for three days.” I gently squeeze his hand. “Plus, I intend to spend most of it naked… with you inside of me.”
His sharp intake of breath is satisfying. I like knowing that I can affect him with words, just as he does to me. “Jesus, Minji. Warn a brother before you say things like that.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I tease with a wink.
He grabs my carry-on with his free hand, unwilling to release his hold on me even for practicality’s sake. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
“What a way to go, though.” I smile as he leads me through the terminal.
A black car is idling at the curb, the driver opening the back door when he spots Aaron.
“Fancy,” I comment as he hands my bag to the driver.
“Tabitha—my agent—insists.” He playfully rolls his eyes. “Personally, I’d be happy with Uber, but apparently best-selling authors need luxury transportation… according to Tab.”
“I’m not complaining.”
As soon as the door closes, creating a bubble of privacy, Aaron’s restraint shatters. His mouth crashes against mine with an urgency that steals my breath. I respond instantly, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
“God, I missed this,” he whispers against my lips, his hands cupping my cheek.
I shift closer, practically climbing into his lap, decorum forgotten. “Less talking,” I whisper, gently biting his lower lip.
He chuckles against my mouth. “The driver…”
“Should mind his own business.” I gently bite his bottom lip, though I hesitantly create a small gap between us. Aaron’s eyes are filled with desire, and his breathing matches my rapid pace. The privacy partition gradually lifts, and I’m confident the driver heard me loud and clear.
“The hotel’s forty minutes away.” Aaron lets out a deep breath, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Think you can behave that long?”
“Absolutely not,” I answer. “I didn’t wear a dress on the plane for no reason.”
His hand slides beneath the hem of my dress, fingers tracing a path up my inner thigh. “You planned on having sex as soon as you landed? Counselor, who are you right now?”
“I’m a strategist,” I whisper against his ear. “And a woman who misses her man.”
“Minji Lee, you are full of surprises, but you deserve more than being fucked in a car. While I love that you are slowly letting your walls down around me, I still want you to know that you are precious to me and fucking you in a car right now isn’t what I want.
I want to show you I can be a gentleman. ”
I break eye contact and look away, heat blooming up my neck, all the way to my ears. He’s right, my defenses disappear when I’m around him. Hell, I don’t recognize this version of myself—reckless, needy, utterly unashamed about wanting someone so much it bends every rule I live by.
He lifts my chin with his knuckle. “We can wait, unless you want to rewrite the definition of public indecency in California Law.”
“For the record, the partition is up,” I reply, but I move off his lap and remove his hand from my thigh. Because the longer he touches me, the more likely I am to forget that I am not an animal in heat.
We spend the drive talking, he shares stories about his last signing event, and I listen with awe.
I could never pursue a career like Aaron’s.
Romance still feels off-limits to me, which seems odd given that South Korea is very much a couple-centric culture and I’ve spent most of my post-college adult years feeling emotionally guarded.
With Aaron, all my feelings emerge openly, as if my entire body is a freshly peeled nerve—it’s almost overwhelming.
He asks about what I’m reading, which shows I’m binge-watching.
He simply wants to know whatever I’m willing to share, whether ridiculous or not.
For Aaron, it’s not about fitting into the ‘perfect couple’ image or being anyone’s trophy.
He just shows up, asks questions that make me want to answer, and pays genuine attention.
We arrive at the Fairmount Hotel, and my only thought is sex, specifically with Aaron.
The suite is bright, airy, and filled with little luxuries I rarely indulge in—a marble-tiled bathroom, a large sleigh bed, and windows offering a view of the city.
I want to soak it all in, but my body seems to be on a collision course with his, and I can’t seem to stop it.
The door barely closes before he’s in my arms again, pushing me backward through the room until my knees hit the side of the bed.
“I thought you wanted to be a gentleman?”
He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, tilting my chin up. “I can be a gentleman who makes you come first,” he says, looking pleased with himself. “I’ve been thinking about you drenching my face all week.”
My insides liquefy on cue, and then he’s kissing me, slowly like he’s tasting something unknown and precious. If this is his ‘worst literary tendency’, I finally get why women buy so many romance novels.
“We can take it slow, you know,” he reminds me, but his hands are already sliding under my dress, running feather-light up my thigh. “I don’t want to rush anything or make you uncomfortable.”
I do like that he’s always worried about how I feel, but sometimes I think he does it because he’s unsure around me.
I don’t think my recent actions should lead him to think I would up and leave if he does something wrong.
Buuuut, then again, I did leave him in college, when he did nothing wrong but just existed and made me happy.
“Aaron, we are okay. Don’t worry… If anything, if I want this to stop, I’ll tell you. You would tell me just enjoy the moment and stop overthinking… so, please.”
“Are you sure…” I drowned him out because I didn’t come all this way to chit-chat, and he knows that.
“I’m positive now, stop talking.”
I pounce on him. I don’t have time for games, and he understands that.
He doesn’t flinch; instead, his grin grows more mischievous as he allows himself to be pulled onto the bed, drawing me underneath him.
His mouth seizes mine in a fierce, all-consuming kiss as his hands slide up my dress, gathering the fabric at my waist. He breaks from my lips only to trace a path along my jaw and down my neck, making my toes curl.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to wear my hair down to hide what’s sure to be obvious about what took place tonight.
“I need this dress gone,” I whisper against his ear.
He pulls back just enough to watch me, a low sound of appreciation in his throat, but his hands remain frustratingly still. I take matters into my own hands, shimmying out of the dress and unhooking my bra.
“Not the thong,” he groans. “Let me have the pleasure of taking that off.”