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The first week after he left, I started hearing his ringtone everywhere.
A ghost of a sound, always just out of reach.
But when I found my phone, there was nothing — not a call, not a text.
After that, I asked my boss to put me on the most demanding project we had.
When you're too exhausted to eat, you don't have the energy to fall apart.
Jason and I had little overlap in our lives anyway. Now that he was supposedly getting married, the chances of running into him were even smaller.
That's what I thought — until Sophie's daughter's first birthday party, and Jason showed up.
He sat down in the empty seat right next to me, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He even let his arm rest casually along the back of my chair.
I started to move to another seat. Under the table, his hand closed around mine.
I tried to pull away. His grip didn't budge.
Around us, friends were chatting, completely unaware of the struggle below the tablecloth.
"Captain Calloway, is it true you're about to tie the knot?" someone called across the table.
"Really? Do we know her?"
"Back in high school, Jason had more love letters than I had pages in my textbook. Whoever she is, she's lucky."
Jason toyed with my fingers under the table and looked over at me with that slow smile.
"Lucky — what do you think?"
I didn't answer. I brought my heel down hard on his foot and used the moment to wrench my hand free.
Sophie and her husband came over to toast the table. I raised my glass with everyone else.
Jason immediately reached over and swapped it out for a glass of juice.
"Don't drink if you can't."
The whole table went quiet.
I reached back for the wine glass.
"I'm the godmother here. I'm drinking."
Jason's expression darkened.
"You really think I can't tell you what to do?"
Sophie jumped in, trying to keep things light.
"Jason, you've known Vivian forever — you should be looking out for her."
"She was seeing someone in secret, God knows who. The last time she hurt her ankle, he didn't pick up a single call — not one. Nobody could find him."
"She even—"
"Sophie." I cut her off.
She caught herself, mouthed a quick sorry, and pivoted.
"Forget it. Do you know any decent pilots? Set Vivian up with someone."
Jason gave a vague, noncommittal sound. His expression had gone flat.
Sophie handed me her daughter — a soft, warm, giggling little girl — and I held her close.
"Just have one of your own!" Sophie said. Then she sighed. "But not with a scumbag."
She knew what the miscarriage had cost me.
"Oh — actually." Her eyes lit up. "Have I told you about the man who owns this place?"
"He's my husband's friend. Studied in France, has this whole artistic-intellectual vibe, ridiculously good-looking, and still single. Want me to introduce you?"
Sophie's husband nodded. "Tall, dark features, absolute jaw on him — is that your type?"
I started to politely decline.
Jason cut in, his tone deliberately flat. "A French-educated guy with looks like that — you think he'd go for someone like her?"
"She's a community college graduate, after all."
I stared at him. For a moment, I genuinely wondered if my ears had stopped working.
Just then, a husky came barreling out of nowhere.
It nearly knocked me sideways, tail spinning like a helicopter rotor.
Its owner came jogging over, grabbing the leash and apologizing.
"I'm so sorry — Oreo, sit!"
Oreo dropped immediately, tongue out, gazing up at me with pure adoration.
"Wait — is that you?"
"You again?"
Daniel Ashford and I both said it at exactly the same time.
Sophie looked between us. "You two know each other? Then I don't even need to do introductions, do I?"
She glanced at Oreo. "Vivian — isn't that the dog you changed your profile picture to?"