Becca
So he did remember me.
“Can we start over? Hello.” He extended his hand after we’d ordered coffee and found a table in the cafeteria. “It’s good to see you again.”
I reached out to shake it and tried not to react to the blaze of heat that raced up my arm at the contact with his skin. He grasped my hand, and an unrecognizable part of me didn’t want him to let go. Then I remembered feeling something similar a long time ago, along with the gut punch that came afterward, and the hurt started to creep back in.
“You . . . you look a little different now.”
I wasn’t about to say that his face had shed a little bit of softness, replaced by angles, gorgeous angles that offset high cheekbones against flawless skin and a sharp jawline that could cut facets on diamonds.
He’s married.
He’s
