The doorbell rings at exactly 4:17 p.m.
I know the time because I’ve been staring at the clock in the hallway for the last twenty minutes, trying to convince myself this visit is no different from any other business partner my father has hosted. Three weeks. Meetings. Shared meals. Then they leave. Simple.
I open the front door with the polite smile my mother drilled into me years ago.
And the world stops.
Same dark hair, same sharp jaw, same mouth that once told me to spread wider while I broke apart underneath him. He’s taller than I remembered in the daylight. Broader in the shoulders. Wearing a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled up, looking completely at ease while my heart tries to punch through my ribs.
Behind him, his father is already greeting mine with a loud, frien
