Ava stood in front of her mirror for the fifth time in twenty minutes, tugging at the neckline of her dress like it might somehow solve her nerves.
It wasn't flashy—just a simple, emerald green wrap dress with cap sleeves and a subtle shimmer when the light hit it right—but it felt like a risk. Because this wasn't dinner with a client. It wasn't a work thing. It wasn't a game.
This was a date.
Her phone buzzed.
Julian:Your chariot awaits. And by chariot, I mean the black SUV I borrowed from our PR director.
She laughed quietly, texted back:
Ava:Tell the PR director I said thanks. I'm coming down.
Outside, the city was already aglow with spring warmth. The wind was kind, the streets alive but not overwhelming. As she stepped into the SUV, Julian rose slightly from his seat, his eyes sweeping over her.
"You look…" He paused, as if grasping for the right word. "Wow."
She flushed, smiling despite herself. "You clean up well too."
He did. His dark blazer was sharp, shirt open at the collar, no tie, no pretense. Just Julian. And somehow, that made it harder to breathe.
The ride to the restaurant passed in easy conversation—music tastes, bad takeout stories, an impromptu debate about whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie. By the time they reached the quiet Italian place tucked away in the West Village, Ava felt lighter than she had in weeks.
The restaurant was all flickering candles and soft jazz. Their table was small, tucked into a corner with just enough intimacy to feel intentional. Ava ordered wine. Julian chose pasta. And for a while, the world faded.
"You know," Ava said, twirling spaghetti around her fork, "I don't usually do this."
He grinned. "Eat carbs?"
"Go on dates."
Julian leaned forward. "Not even awkward first ones with guys who use bad metaphors about marketing?"
She smiled. "Especially not those."
"Well, I'm honored," he said softly. "And trying very hard not to screw it up."
"You're doing okay so far."
"Good. Because I like this version of us. No pitch decks. No posturing. Just… us."
Her heart did a small, unsteady spin.
Then, just as she was starting to lean into the moment, she heard a voice behind her.
"Ava?"
She froze.
It was a voice she hadn't heard in years—smooth, self-assured, just a little too loud.
She turned slowly.
"Daniel," she said, standing halfway. "Wow. Hi."
Daniel Porter. Her ex. The man who once told her that ambition made her "difficult to love." The last person she wanted to see while sitting across from someone who made her feel, for the first time in a long time, seen.
"I thought that was you," Daniel said, stepping closer with a polite nod to Julian. "It's been forever. How are you?"
"Good," she said quickly. "Busy."
Julian rose from his chair, extending a hand. "Julian Reed."
Daniel's eyes widened slightly. "Ah. The tech CEO. I've read about you. Quite the rising star."
Julian didn't flinch. "Only as good as the people I work with."
Daniel turned to Ava. "Well, I won't interrupt. Just wanted to say hi. It's great to see you. Really."
She nodded. "Yeah. You too."
As Daniel walked away, Ava felt like someone had knocked the wind from her. She sat slowly, avoiding Julian's eyes.
"Ex?" he asked gently.
She nodded. "We dated during grad school. He wasn't… great."
Julian tilted his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," she said. Then, after a beat, "Yes. A little."
Julian waited, patient.
"He was smart. Charming. Said all the right things—until I started getting promoted faster than he did. Until he realized I didn't want to be someone's assistant or 'supportive girlfriend.' I wanted my own seat at the table."
Julian's jaw tightened. "And he couldn't handle that?"
"He said I was cold. Too focused. That no one would ever fall in love with a woman who always prioritized her career."
Julian's voice was quiet. "He was wrong."
She looked up, meeting his eyes. "I know that now. But it took a while."
They sat in silence for a moment, the candlelight flickering between them.
Then Julian said, "Can I tell you something?"
"Of course."
"I don't care if you prioritize your work. I don't care if you're 'cold' in meetings or cutthroat in strategy. I care about how you look when you laugh. I care about the way your eyes change when you talk about something you love. I care that you're still sitting here, even after seeing a ghost from your past."
Ava swallowed hard.
"I care," he finished, "because you're you. And I'm not here to shrink that. I'm here to respect it."
Her throat tightened. "You say the right things."
"I mean them."
"I'm scared."
"I am too."
Their hands found each other under the table, and for the first time all night, Ava didn't try to pull away.
They left the restaurant an hour later, the air cool but not unkind. Julian walked her to her apartment, pausing at the stoop.
"I should go," he said softly. "Unless…"
She studied him.
This moment. This choice.
Then she said, "Come up. For a little while."
He smiled. "Are you sure?"
"No," she admitted. "But I want to find out."
And hand in hand, they climbed the stairs together.