Did that mean . . . ?

“Cate—you did meet someone new. Get married. Right?”

She swallowed. “Not that it’s any of your business—but no.”

The selfish wave of relief that swept over him was all wrong.

She should have married. She deserved a happily-ever-after.

Hard as their breakup had been—on both of them—Cate was a strong person. A survivor. How could she not be over him? How could she not have moved on? Found someone else to love?

For the same reason, it appeared, that he hadn’t done any of those things either.

His feelings were too strong—and no one had ever lived up to the only person who’d stolen his heart.

He may have thought he’d buried his feelings, locked them away forever—but they’d been lying dormant, waiting to surge to the surface at the first opportunity.

Like an unplanned reunion at a girls’ boarding school.

“Are you married?” Cate’s cheeks remained flushed, her knuckles white as she gripped her pen.

“No.”

A few beats ticked by.

“Let’s talk about our jobs.” She cleared her throat and tried for a businesslike tone—but the tiny tremor in her voice betrayed her unsettled emotions. “I propose we conduct our investigations independently. If either of us comes across information that may be useful to the other party, we arrange another meeting here. Agreed?”

A practical plan workwise—but it came nowhere close to dealing with the electricity zipping between them.

Yet given the taut line of her shoulders and firm set of her jaw, any suggestion that they also discuss personal issues would shut her down.

The wise course was to approach that loaded subject gradually—and with caution.

“I have a counterproposal.”

“What is it?” Her inflection was wary.

“Let’s meet here twice a week for a short tutoring session. I’ll reserve the room. If there are developments that require an immediate conversation, we can schedule an extra session.” He jotted down his cell number on a slip of paper and set it on the table in front of her. “You can text me with times that work for you—preferably during the day or right after school.”

After a brief hesitation, she picked it up. “Unless our two investigations happen to intertwine, we aren’t going to have much to discuss at these regular sessions.”

“We’ll find something to chat about.”

The look she lasered at him would have intimidated a lesser man. “We have nothing else to chat about.”

“Maybe we do.”

“No, we don’t.” She closed the textbook and shoved it into her backpack.

“A regular schedule of meetings will call less attention to itself.”

“Fine.” She yanked one strap over her shoulder. “Do you need anything else today?”

Yeah.

A lot.

Like forgiveness . . . and understanding . . . and perhaps a chance to see if the relationship he’d shredded on that beautiful autumn day could be repaired.