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She smirked. “You look better when you’re with me.”

I didn’t answer that.

She leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching me like she was trying to read something under my skin.

“You’ve been ghosting,” she said.

“That’s my name, isn’t it? I’ve been busy, though.”

“That’s what we’re calling it?”

Her voice still pulled at something familiar. Something easy.

I ignored it.

“What you working on?”

She shrugged. “Music. Healing. Trying not to think about men who disappear after the biggest breakup of their life.”

I almost laughed.

Some things never changed.

She stepped closer.

“I’m glad you’re here, though. Bianca emailed me, and she added Lyric to the email.”

That got my attention. Lyric had been quiet, but I knew she was still mad at being cut off, after being with me since we were young.

“She wants to sue you and wants us involved. Says the NDAs were shady. Says you played all of us.”

I stared at her.

“You respond?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Her eyes softened. “Because I don’t burn the man who built me.”

Silence stretched.

I believed her, but I had questions I knew she probably didn’t have answers to.

She took another step forward.

“Fuck Bianca. You know you miss me as much as I miss you.”

“You don’t miss me too much, writing subliminal diss songs about me.”

“You know music is how I release. Now just admit you miss us.”

I missed all of them sometimes. The bullshit. The comfort. The way things used to be simple.

But simple didn’t exist anymore.

Still, I didn’t step back when she touched my dick through my slacks.