The sight of Paul’s car had Deven’s heart skipping a beat. He was standing outside of the driver’s side door, bundled in a coat and hat against the brisk evening air. The red scarf around his neck danced in the breezing as if it were flagging her down. But she didn’t want to get her hopes up, so Deven pulled into the parking space next to his and took an uneasy breath.

He was watching her closely as she climbed from the car and for a second. They both just stood there in awkward silence, the wind slapping color into their cheeks as his scarf continued to billow. Finally, she spoke up first to break the tension. “You want to come inside?”

Deven watched his face relax a little, a little reminder of this man’s beautiful heart. She had hurt him, but here he was, nervous as if he had done something wrong. She wanted to hold him tight to crack their icy dispositions. She led him upstairs and into the warmth of her apartment.

As customary, Deven peeled out of her coat and went about checking around. She knew she was stalling. She had just talked to Deuce, and he had made it clear he hadn’t been in her place at all. And though she wasn’t certain who the culprit was, Deven still moseyed about her bedroom and then her bathroom while she thought about how to broach a conversation with Paul.

By the time she re-entered the kitchen, he had shrugged out of his own outer layers and sat at the breakfast table in his sweater and jeans. Two steaming mugs were on the table while the smell of mint chocolate singed the air. His eyes were on her as she entered and, not knowing what else to do, she took a seat at the table, their knees bumping against each other.

“Great minds,” she said, using her fingernail to tap the side of the cup. “I needed something soothing.”

“Same here.” But neither one moved to take a drink. Deven’s stomach did a somersault as he searched her face for something. She cleared her throat. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. You want to go somewhere and get something to eat?”

“I would rather order in, if that’s cool with you.” They were like two high-school kids filling their first-date jitters with idle chatter.

The tiptoeing had Deven’s anxiety mounting, and she braved taking a swig of the blistering liquid, if only to give herself something to ease her apprehension. She sucked on her tongue a little to ease the heat, then realized how sensual the gesture could seem and she quickly recovered. “I’m glad you came by,” she said at Paul’s continued silence. “I’ve been wanting to apologize.”

“I know. I heard a good bit of it on my voicemail.”