Page 31 of Sparks Fly

I smiled and typed back.

Me: You don’t need to thank me. Let’s do it again soon.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Addison: Yes, please. Good night.

Me: Good night, Sunshine.

* * *

10

Addison

I was on my second cup of coffee.

The mug sat on the kitchen counter while the city slowly woke outside my windows. I had already showered, dressed, and answered a few emails, but I was exhausted.

Routine usually carried me through the morning. Gym. Shower. Coffee. Office.

Today, the rhythm was off.

I hadn’t gotten home until one thirty, and I had skipped the gym.

That never happened.

It was almost eight a.m., so I texted the office to let them know I would head straight to my nine o’clock showing and come in afterward.

I moved slowly and thought about the night before. Nothing had happened between us, but somehow, it still felt like something had.

I finally picked up my coffee and took a sip, only to realize it had gone cold. I made a face, poured it out, and grabbed my keys.

My first showing that morning was a three-bedroom brownstone in the South End with exposed brick and a modern kitchen. It was overpriced, but charming enough that people wanted to believe it was worth it.

I walked my clients through the space with practiced ease while my hands moved when they were supposed to and my voice softened at the right moments.

Later, sitting in my outside the listing, I checked my phone. There was one text from my mom.

Mom: Sunday dinner. Don’t be late.

Another message waited underneath it.

Jason: Thought of you this morning. Want to grab dinner this weekend?

The familiar mix of guilt and irritation settled in my chest. Jason used to make sense. Now, I couldn’t summon a single feeling about him that wasn’t obligation. I didn’t answer.

Instead, I opened a new message and texted Tiff, resting my elbow against the center console.

Me: I may or may not have spent last night with Sawyer.

Tiff replied almost instantly.

Tiff: EXCUSE ME???

I smiled despite myself and typed back.

Me: Tacos. Whiskey. Pie. A roof top. Zero chill.