Page 11 of The Replay

"Not in the least."

Bullshit. But I can't call her out in public.

"There's a service room around the corner," Evie says before I can decide how to respond. "I go there for quick chats once in a while."

Logan talks to Mariana as well. "You're not the first to need a private word with one of us."

"Mh. I remember our first meeting there, Logan." Evie frowns and stares up at her fiancé. "You only wore shorts. So bare-chested meetings have a precedent."

"Make sure to get that towel nice and tight." Logan adds my way. "Just in case."

"Didn't you hear?" I ask. "She doesn't care, and I'm quite comfortable."

Mariana rolls her eyes, but otherwise hides her irritation at me.

Annoyance is a new look for her. She never used to give off those vibes around me, but I better get used to them. I don't see a future where she looks at me with love and devotion again. The kind that was a mirror of my own feelings for her.

How powerful I used to feel, when we were in each other's arms and I believed in what we had. These days, I expect we'll still match each other, but now it will be in the realm of our resentments.

She turns to Evie. "Do you mind telling me where the room is?"

"I know where it is," I say. "You can follow me."

Without waiting for confirmation, I lead her to the service room Evie mentioned. It's a decently-sized space, with harsh fluorescent lighting, metal shelves on the sides that hold products and tools, and industrial-sized washing machines and dryers at the back.

We mirror each other again, with our arms crossed and face to face.

"You wanted to talk?" I stare down at her.

She lifts her chin. A gulp makes it down her throat. "What have you told your friends about us?"

"I haven't told them anything. If they know we have a past, it's because Cora made it obvious a few months ago, when she graciously came to say hi to me at the ring ceremony."

"I can't see Cora telling them you and I had a thing in college."

The dryer is running behind me, and its burr is the only sound for a few seconds. Her words hit a cord inside me somewhere, where it hurts that she called what we had athing.

What we had was adream. A time that followed no logic and yet defined the way I dated for the rest of my life. Like when you wake up from whatever yourbrain made up during the night, only to feel the ghost of it as you go through your day.

It's fine. It doesn't matter.

I raise an eyebrow. "She didn't need to share details for them to figure it out from our conversation."

"I see."

"Why are you asking me this? I have no interest in going around telling everyone you chose your family over me."

"Is that the story you're telling yourself?"

She purses her lips. Her eyes remain locked on mine.

I make my voice stern. "That is the story."

"Close enough, I suppose."

"Do you regret it?"

The words escape me. I still, immediately looking for a way out. But she studies me like she's trying to decipher what exactly do I mean— all of it, or just how it ended?