She's counted. My chest tightens.
"I had no idea you were back in Palm Beach."
"I'm surprised Blake didn't mention it. He's been over the moon about the kids."
I nod like this is nothing, like we're just catching up.Like, I didn't break something between us years ago. My right hand is still sticky from the black ink explosion. I ball it into a fist.
"Blake and I don't see each other much anymore. He's busy with the family. I'm buried in work." I keep my tone neutral. "We grab beers when we can, but it's not like before. Adulting sucks."
Not like when we were inseparable. When his family was mine too.
"How long have you been back?"
"Just over a week. It's been a whirlwind trying to get moved and settled and starting work." She adjusts the folder in her arms. "I've been staying with Mom and Dad until I close on my new place."
"Right." I put my right hand in my pants pocket, a nervous habit, and regret it immediately. God, I hope I didn't ruin this suit. "It's a good project Pope's put together. The pediatric initiative."
"Yes. I'm looking forward to making real change here. Right in my backyard. It's exciting." Her voice is butter-smooth, but there's steel underneath. "You've certainly made yourself indispensable to CHG."
"I actually know Pope Carrigan through work. He asked me to be on the board not long after the conversion. I hesitated at first, but I've enjoyed being a part of this."
"I'm glad it's worked out."
The words hang there, double-edged. Professional on the surface. Razor-sharp beneath.
We stop at the elevator bank, standing a careful arm's length apart. The tension builds in the silence, a physical thing I could reach out and touch.
"I'll send over the compliance framework by the end of the week for you to review," she says.
I nod. "I'll look it over right away."
The elevator doors slide open. She steps inside.
"Welcome back to Palm Beach, Janie."
Her eyes meet mine, and for just a moment, I see the girl I knew. The one I left. The two of us alone in the elevator might be too awkward, so I act like I need to walk down the hall before leaving.
"Goodbye, Warren."
The doors close between us.
I'm halfwaydown A1A before I realize I have no destination. The Range Rover's air conditioning blasts against my face, but it doesn't cool the heat crawling up my neck.
Five years, two months. She counted.
I pull over at the public beach access lot, cutting the engine but keeping the AC running. The folder from today's meeting sits accusingly on the passenger seat. CHG's sleek logo is embossed on the cover. Inside are graphs and projections and strategic initiatives in Janie's precise handwriting.
Janie's.
Her voice replays in my head, that cool steel underneath. Not the girl who teased me about my law school textbooks sprawled across her parents' kitchen table. Not the one who fell asleep on the bean bag with her bowl of popcorn during Harrelson family movie nights.
This Janie owns a room when she walks into it. Commands attention without asking. Slides statistics and seven-year projections across mahogany tables while board members nod along.
"Goddamnit." My still-stained palm connects with the steering wheel.
The ocean stretches out beyond the windshield, the early evening sun turning it molten. I should be at the office, not sitting here like some lovesick teenager. I have depositions to prepare. The Ramirez consultation notes to review.
But all I can see is her face when the elevator doors closed. That flash of... what? Pain? Anger? Nothing?