“Or you can’t help but compare everyone to the man you’re still in love with,” she said. “Why do you think your latest art collection is doing better than anything you’ve ever done?”

“Because it’s my best work.”

“You don’t think the fact that it’s inspired by your college years has anything to do with it?”

“Nothing at all.” I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to let her change the subject. “Nadira, I can’t believe—”

“Especially the picture of that couple kissing in the middle of a football field,” she said, not stopping. “I really like that one.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“That may not, but Rosy-gan Cafes & Galleries does.”

“Excuse me?”

“Who the hell do you think you’re fooling, Charlotte?” She sounded exasperated. “You couldn’t bring yourself to name your business under your own name because you knew he would find you.”

“That’s not true.” It was more than true.

“And if you think for one minute that I never figured out that the name ‘Rosy-gan’ is a goddamn anagram for Grayson, you’re in even more denial than I thought.”

I hung up in her face and tossed my phone across the room.

CHARLOTTE: NOW

Present Day

New York City

“I’M COMING, I’M COMING!” I stumbled down the steps the following morning, thanking the universe that my weekly wine delivery was early. I made sure my bathrobe was tied tightly and opened the door, expecting to see a delivery man, but it was Grayson. A beautiful ‘I look perfect even in sweatpants and a white T-shirt’ Grayson.

I tried to slam the door in his face, but he wedged his foot between the doorframe.

“You didn’t show up for our meeting on Tuesday,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

“Did you forget?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Nope.” I shrugged. “I decided you weren’t worth my time.”

He glared at me, saying nothing. He moved his foot from the doorframe, but instead of leaving he pushed his way inside, backing me into my hallway.

“I waited for you for six hours,” he said, his voice terse. “Six. Hours.”

“Did you get a chance to drink any of the coffee?”

“Stop fucking with me, Charlotte.” He pinned me against the wall with his hips. “We had an agreement.”

“We once agreed we wouldn’t hurt each other and you broke that promise pretty easily, so I guess we’re even now.”

“Six hours.”

“I’m not sorry,” I said, ignoring the frantic racing of my heart. “But if you give me another six months or so, I can consider meeting with you to take random trips down memory lane. You’ll have to fill in a lot of the blanks for me, though.”

“You don’t remember?” His lips brushed against mine and every nerve in my body came to life.

“I only remember the ending.”

“Nothing about what we had before that?” He hissed.

“No. Nothing we had was that memorable. We were young.”

We stared at each other, not saying a word. Within seconds his mouth was on mine, and my arms were around his neck.

He tore open my robe exposing my naked body and lifted me up by my thighs, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. I moaned as I fought for control of the kiss, as he fought back with rough and demanding bites of my bottom lip.

His cock hardened against me, and I reached down to free it from his sweatpants. He briefly tore his mouth away from mine and kissed my neck, biting my skin as I massaged him with my hand.

Returning to kissing me recklessly, he let me down onto the floor and tore open a condom before putting it on. He glared at me, looking hurt and angry all at once.

“Put your legs around my waist,” he commanded, lifting me up again. I obliged and he thrust his cock inside of me with one stroke—stretching and filling me deep.

Moaning, I closed my eyes and tried to adjust to his length, he didn’t give me the chance. He pulled back and pounded into me again and again.

“You don’t remember this?” he said, fucking me harder.

His eyes never left mine, mine never left his.

He continued owning my body like no other man could, bringing me to back to back orgasms—making me accept that he would always be the best sex I’d ever had.

He gripped my thighs as his cock throbbed inside of me, holding me steady as we both reached our release at the same time. Keeping his eyes on mine, he gently let me go and set me on the floor.

Without saying a word, he re-tied my robe shut and smoothed my hair back into place.

I watched as he tossed the condom into the trash and readjusted his pants. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t get any words to fall out of my mouth.

He looked me up and down one last time and headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, a hint of hurt still in his eyes.

“I expect you to show up next Tuesday.”

CHARLOTTE: THEN

Seven years ago

Pittsburgh

SUBJECT: POST GRAD plans.

It’s official! I’ve been awarded fellowships at Stanford, Brown AND Harvard! (I also received offer letters from every art school I applied to, but I’m going to ask for a deferral)

Oh, and to answer the text you sent me a few minutes ago, I’d love to go with you to dinner to meet your agent. (Are you sure you don’t want your mom to go with you instead of me?)

Talk to you tonight,

Charlotte

PS—I think I’m falling in love with you.

SUBJECT: RE: POST GRAD plans.

Congratulations. I’m very happy for you. I’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate this weekend. (I still think you should go to art school first—you clearly love that more than law, but I understand your decision)

Good to know you’re coming. (My mother hates agents. She almost killed my father’s agent when he played.)

SEE you tonight,

Grayson

PS—I think I already fell.

I KNOCKED ON GRAYSON’S door around seven o’clock that evening, shivering as Pittsburgh’s winter winds whipped against me.

“Hey, Charlotte!” Kyle opened the door. “I didn’t know you were coming up here tonight.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Um.” I stepped inside. “Is Grayson here?”

“Of course he’s here,” he said. “He’s throwing my official ‘I’ve signed with an agent’ dinner.” He ushered me into the kitchen where Grayson, a few other football players, and Kyle’s parents were standing around sipping wine. “Want me to get your coat?”

“No, I’m okay.” I picked up a glass from the counter and tossed it back. “Which agency are you signing with?”

“Reid & Clover. I think they’re going to get me everything I want outside of football, you know?”

“I do.” I’d spent countless nights listening to him tell Grayson that he wanted to be the face of at least three drinks and a fashion label. I never really paid much attention to him until now, but Kyle was quite attractive. His dirty blond hair and green eyes gave him that extra charm in an ‘I’m asshole, but I’m likeable’ way.

“Hey.” Grayson walked over to me and kissed my lips. “I thought you were painting tonight.”

“I was. I’m taking a break so I figured I’d stop by.”

“Want me to take your coat?”

“No.” I held it closed. “No, I actually just remembered that I left something at home. I’ll go get it and come back.”

“Would you like me to drive you?”

“I can take the shuttle. I’ll be right back.” I walked away, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his bedroom.

He locked the door and looked at me.

“Why are you really here?” he asked. “Did you leave something last night?”

“No, I—” I felt my cheeks reddening. “It’s nothing. I can take the shuttle, Grayson.”

“Tell me the truth.”