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First Edition

Copyright © 2026

By Penelope Ward

There was so much I wanted to know about his life. More than anything, I wanted to ask what he’d dreamed about when he called my name. I was also tempted to ask about Effie’s mother. He’d said they were divorced, but was she still in the picture? Why was Effie living with him full time?

But instead of unloading all my questions, I scratched my pounding head and asked, “Do you have coffee here, by any chance?”

Rather than answer, he stalked over to a cabinet above the fridge—the one place I hadn’t checked.

With my arms wrapped around my chest, I watched as he pulled out a filter and placed it in the machine before scooping some grounds. I admired how the muscles in his back moved with the motion of his arms, the way his jeans hugged his ass.

After he started the pot, the room filled with the bubbling sound of coffee brewing. Evan turned toward me, and we stared at each other in tense silence.

“How did you sleep?” he finally asked.

“Not bad, all things considered.”

“All things being me?” He arched a brow.

“I have nothing against you, Evan.”

“Oh really? Because that unhinged letter you wrote me says otherwise. It’s not like time could change all that. Especially when we haven’t been in touch since then. I never reached out. And you never called, either.”

“I was very emotional when I wrote that letter.” I gulped. “And drunk. I wasn’t supposed to send it. It was just meant to be a way to let out my feelings.”

“So, why did you send it?”

“I wish I understood…”

“You mean to tell me you don’t still feel that way, even a little?”

My gaze fell to the floor. “It’s been a decade. Like I told you, I’d been drinking, so I don’t entirely remember what I wrote.”

Evan scratched his chin. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

I looked up. “Regardless of what unkind words I expressed in a drunken, regrettable moment…I’ve moved on.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ve moved on given the way you raced out of here yesterday to find another place, just so you didn’t have to look at me.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly welcoming.” He was right that I’d raced out of here. But his assumption that I didn’t want to look at him? No. After all these years, it was still hard not to look at him.

The coffee gurgled to signal the end of its cycle. Saved by the gurgle.

Evan opened the cabinet. To my surprise, he set down two mugs and began preparing my coffee just the way I liked it: two sugars and heavy cream. He stirred and then handed it to me.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t have to ask how he knew the way I took it. Back when he’d been living with us, Evan and I had often caught up over coffee in my family’s kitchen before the crack of dawn while everyone else was asleep. So this was far from the first time he’d prepared a cup for me. Little did he know, I’d actually had my very first cup of coffee with him. When I’d started getting up early to join him, I hadn’t tried coffee yet. But I’d pretended to need the caffeine just as much as he did, though the only morning jolt I’d wanted back then was Evan. The smell of coffee right now, the smell of him… I was drowning in nostalgia, tinged with a bittersweet knowing that so much had changed.

We stood across from each other, silently sipping our coffees as if this was some sort of duel—who could drink it the fastest without saying anything?

Eventually, Evan set his mug down. “There are fresh towels in the linen closet off the hallway. Effie has some girly bodywash in the shower, if you need it. Pomegranate scent or some crap.” He lifted his mug again and added, “You look like you could use a shower.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you. I guess I’ll take a shower before I head out to look for a place. I’ll let you know if I find one, so I can get out of your hair.”

He took a sip and saluted me with his mug. “Good luck with that.”

It was embarrassing to think I hadn’t taken a shower since I left Chicago. I grabbed a couple of towels from the closet and headed into the small bathroom.

After sliding the shower curtain open, I smiled at the sight of both masculine and “girly” bodywash side by side. As the warm water rained down on me, I squeezed pomegranate shower gel into my hand and thought about how cute and honest Effie had been last night when she’d come into my room. Closing my eyes and trying to relax, I took my sweet time lathering my body and massaging my neck. After I finished what turned out to be a twenty-minute shower, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. But a loud crash just outside the door caused me to jump. “Is everything okay?” I called.

She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.

With millions of books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over forty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.