When I arrived at the café, Alex was already there, sitting at the same table as last time. He'd dressed up more than usual—hair perfectly styled, a crisp blue shirt, and that cologne he used to wear whenever he wanted to impress me. It was obvious he hadn't come here just to talk. "Zoey," he said, standing up when he saw me. He leaned in to kiss my cheek, but I stepped back. "Alex," I replied coolly, sitting down without hesitation. "You look beautiful," he said, smiling with that mix of nostalgia and something that looked far too much like hope. "That dress looks perfect on you." "Thanks," I said flatly, setting my bag on the table between us like a physical barrier. "I'm glad you called," he went on, leaning forward slightly. "I've been thinking about our last conversation, about everything we said. About us." "Alex," I cut in sharply. "Let's be honest here." He blinked, clearly thrown by my tone. "I know Elise arranged the crash that nearly killed my husband," I sai
Read more