Chapter 42
Sienna's POV
The Copper Kettle looked exactly as I remembered—warm light spilling from the high windows, ivy leaves crisp at the edges but still clinging to the brick facade. Aiden held the door with one hand, the champagne-colored hydrangea bouquet tucked under his other arm.
"Watch the step," he said as I crossed the threshold.
I nodded. We'd arrived at the parking lot at the same time.
When I walked into the restaurant, the smell hit me all at once. Coffee grounds, old wood, and some kind of floral scent I couldn't name. My chest tightened. Hayes had brought me here too many afternoons in high school, tucked into the corner booth sketching designs while he sat across from me with his physics homework spread out like a disaster zone.
I shook my head, pushing the memory down.
"You okay?" Aiden's voice pulled me back.
"Yeah. Just a little cold." I rubbed my arms through my coat sleeves.
He frowned slightly. "I told you to wear a thicker jacket."
"I'm not a child."
That made him chuckle. "Fair enough." He gestured toward the back of the restaurant where I could already see a small group gathering. "Ready?"
No. Not even close.
"Sure," I said.
We wove through the mismatched tables and chairs. I recognized several familiar faces immediately—people I'd seen at the reunion were here.
"Sienna!" Payton spotted me first, waving enthusiastically."You actually came! I was starting to think you'd chicken out at the last minute."
I forced a smile as she pulled me into a hug. "I said I would, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but you also said you'd 'try to get time off,' which in Sienna-speak usually means 'I'm looking for an excuse to bail.'" She pulled back, grinning. "Glad you proved me wrong."
"Me too," I said.
Payton's eyes flicked to Aiden, then back to me, her eyebrows raising slightly. Before she could say anything, Zach stepped forward with a grin.
"Look who finally showed up," he said, clapping my shoulder like we were old drinking buddies. "Thought you might bail."
"Almost did," I admitted.
Brianna's gaze swept over me, then landed on Aiden. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you two came together?"
There it was. Less than thirty seconds in, and the interrogation had already started.
"Just happened to arrive at the same time," Aiden said smoothly.
Brianna's smile sharpened. "Right. Coincidence."
I felt my jaw tighten. Before I could respond, Payton cut in with a laugh. "Oh please, Brianna. Not everyone's love life is a conspiracy theory." She looped her arm through mine. "Come on, Mrs. Carter's been asking about you."
I shot her a grateful look as she steered me away from Brianna's scrutiny.
---
We headed toward the private dining area in the back—a cozy space with exposed brick walls and a long wooden table already set with candles and wine glasses. Mrs. Carter sat at the head, chatting with a few early arrivals. When she saw me, her face lit up.
"Sienna, dear!" She stood and pulled me into a warm embrace. "I'm so glad you came."
"I wouldn't miss it," I said.
"You look wonderful." She held me at arm's length, studying my face. Then her gaze shifted to Aiden. "Aiden?"
"It's been a while, Mrs. Carter," he smiled.
Recognition crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Weren't you studying abroad? When did you get back?"
While they exchanged pleasantries, I scanned the room. Most of the seats were still empty, but a few people had already claimed their spots. I started calculating where I could sit to minimize awkwardness.
I chose a seat in the middle of the table, with Aiden settling to my right and Payton claiming the chair on my left. Mrs. Carter sat at the head, warmly greeting each new arrival.
Then the door opened again.
I felt the air change, like the room contracted and expanded at the same time.
Hayes.
My champagne flute nearly slipped from my hand.
Our eyes met.
For three seconds, the noise of the restaurant disappeared. My pupils contracted. My lips parted, but I couldn't form words. I'd thought his "personal matter" was something with his family. I never imagined he'd be here.
His gaze locked onto me with surgical precision. Then it shifted slightly left—to Aiden beside me.
Something cold and sharp flickered in Hayes's storm-gray eyes.
Then he looked away.
He walked toward Mrs. Carter with practiced ease. But I'd seen it. That momentary freeze.
Aiden leaned in, his voice low. "You okay?"
I forced myself to nod. "Yeah. I'm fine."
---
Hayes's POV
I saw her the second I walked in.
Sitting next to that man, her posture relaxed with a smile on her face, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My vision narrowed.
I forced myself to keep walking, to greet Mrs. Carter as planned. But my peripheral vision stayed locked on Sienna.
"Mrs. Carter, it's been too long."
After some pleasantries, I sat in the chair across from Sienna.
I positioned myself near Zach, pretending to listen to his story about some gallery opening. I wasn't listening at all. My attention was locked on the opposite side.
That man leaned in to say something to her. It was enough to make my chest tighten like someone had wrapped barbed wire around my ribs.
I took a long drink of whiskey and tried not to break the glass.
Brianna broke the silence at the wrong moment.
"Hayes, you remember Aiden Cruz, right?" Her smile was sharp and deliberate. "He and Sienna were classmates. He's a senior designer at Nike now." She pivoted to Aiden. "Aiden, this is Hayes Sterling. NFL quarterback. I'm sure you've seen him on TV."
Aiden stood, extending his hand. "I remember you. Watched a few of your games in high school. Pretty impressive."
His voice was respectful, polite. The kind of respect you'd give a stranger you once admired from a distance.
I stared at his outstretched hand.
I didn't remember him. Not his face, not his name, nothing. But the way he'd been with Sienna earlier—casual, familiar, like he had the right to be by her side—made something burn in my chest.
I took his hand. Briefly.
"Hayes Sterling."
That was it. No "nice to meet you." No small talk.
He didn't seem fazed. Just nodded and let go, his expression still calm.
But I felt every pair of eyes watching us. Waiting for something to crack.
The handshake lasted less than three seconds, but in those three seconds I cataloged everything: the calluses on his hands (designer's hands, not soft), the way he stood (confident but not aggressive), how Sienna's posture shifted when I approached (tense, guarded).
And the worst part? He was nothing like me.
He was calm. Stable. The kind of man who wouldn't drag her into chaos. The kind of man she could actually build a life with.
And I was the train wreck she'd run from six years ago.