Chapter 1 - THE SEAT BESIDE ME
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I knew that voice before I turned my head.
Five years could change a man's hairstyle, wardrobe, and address. It couldn't change the lazy confidence that used to make every room feel as if it belonged to him.
Declan Hawthorne stood in the aisle beside my first-class seat, one hand resting on the overhead compartment. His charcoal suit fit perfectly. His dark hair was shorter than I remembered, and a silver watch gleamed beneath his cuff.
He looked at me as if the universe had arranged this meeting for his entertainment.
“Cassidy Monroe,” he said. “I thought you moved somewhere nobody could find you.”
“Atlanta is a large city. You should try visiting sometime.”
His mouth curved.
There it was. The familiar smirk.
He slid into the seat beside mine and buckled his belt. “Still sharp-tongued.”
“Still talking when nobody asked.”
A flight attendant approached with a welcoming smile. Declan ordered sparkling water. I asked for tea.
He glanced at my simple navy sweater and the paperback resting on my lap.
“Business trip?”
“Yes.”
“Still doing freelance work?”
I turned a page. “Something like that.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “I heard you left the marketing world.”
“I did.”
“I suppose it was difficult starting over.”
I finally looked at him.
“Not as difficult as staying married to you.”
His smile tightened, then returned.
“Five years, Cassidy. You'd think we'd be past that.”
“We might be if you stopped bringing it up.”
He leaned back, apparently satisfied with himself.
I knew what he saw. A woman traveling alone, wearing inexpensive clothes, carrying a scuffed leather tote instead of a designer handbag. He had always believed success could be measured by labels, square footage, and the number of people who waited outside his office.
He had no idea that the environmental consulting company I founded after our divorce now employed forty-six people and had contracts in seven states.
I hadn't hidden my success. I simply hadn't needed him to witness it.
“So,” he said, “are you seeing anyone?”
“That's an unusual question from a man who signed divorce papers without looking up.”
“I was under a lot of pressure then.”
“You were under the impression that your mother had found a more suitable wife for you.”
Declan's jaw shifted.
“My mother had nothing to do with our divorce.”
I returned to my book.
“Of course not.”
He studied me for a moment.
“You look well.”
“I am.”
“I'm glad.”
The words sounded almost sincere. That annoyed me more than the smirk.
For the next hour, we spoke only when necessary. I answered a few emails, reviewed a project report, and watched the clouds gather beyond the window.
Declan took a call in a low voice. He mentioned a development project outside Atlanta, then ended the conversation when he noticed me listening.
“Your company still works in environmental compliance?” he asked.
I looked at him.
“You remember?”
“I remember more than you think.”
“Then remember this: I don't discuss client work with strangers.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Strangers?”
“That's what five years makes us.”
He looked away.
When the pilot announced our descent into Atlanta, Declan checked his phone. I packed my book and fastened my seat belt.
He glanced at my screen, where three notifications had appeared from the family group chat.
PICK UP THE GIRLS! LUCY HAS HER RABBIT, ELLA HAS HER BACKPACK, AND MAYA SAYS SHE'S GOING TO HUG YOU FIRST.
Declan's eyes moved to the message.
“Your nieces?”
“My daughters.”
May you like
His expression changed.
Before he could ask another question, the plane touched down.
