6

Le Bernardin hadn't changed in three years. Sophie stepped from her Uber into the cool evening air, smoothing the silk of her black dress. She'd chosen it carefully – elegant but not overtly seductive, with a subtle cutout at the shoulder that revealed just enough skin to be interesting. Her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and she'd traded her usual professional makeup for something softer, more vulnerable.

The maître d' recognized her name instantly. "Mr. Reid is already seated. Please, follow me."

Of course Alexander would be early. She followed through the elegant dining room, aware of appreciative glances but focused only on what waited ahead. And there he was, rising as she approached.

He'd changed from his business suit into a perfectly tailored charcoal blazer over a black shirt, the top buttons left casually undone. The look was devastating, and from the slight darkening of his eyes as he took in her appearance, the effect was mutual.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, helping her into her chair.

"Thank you." She accepted the menu from the waiter, grateful for something to do with her hands. "Though I'm still not sure why I'm here."

"Aren't you?" Alexander signaled for wine. "The '82 Bordeaux," he told the sommelier, then turned back to her. "You always did prefer the classics."

The fact that he remembered her wine preference shouldn't have affected her so much. "Alexander—"

"Xander," he corrected quietly. "Tonight, at least, can we be who we were?"

Sophie's heart clenched. "I'm not sure we can ever be those people again."

"Perhaps not." He studied her face in the candlelight. "But we can at least be honest with each other."

The sommelier returned with the wine, giving Sophie a moment to gather her thoughts. She watched Alexander go through the ritual of tasting and approving, his hands elegant on the glass. Those hands had once traced patterns on her skin, had held her face as he'd kissed her like she was precious...

"Your thoughts are very loud," he murmured, pouring her wine.

"Just remembering."

"Good memories or bad?"

"Is there a difference anymore?"

His eyes met hers over the rim of his glass. "There's every difference. For instance, I remember how you used to bite your lip just like that when you were nervous. But now I wonder if it was ever real, or just another calculated gesture."

"Not everything was a lie." The words came out sharper than she'd intended.

"No?" He leaned back, studying her. "Then tell me what was true, Sophie. Help me understand how the woman who spent nights planning my company's future could turn around and sell its secrets."

The waiter approached to take their orders. Sophie barely registered what she chose, too focused on the weight of Alexander's gaze.

"You never asked why," she said when they were alone again.

"Would you have told me the truth?"

"Would you have believed it?"

He smiled without humor. "Probably not. I was... rather focused on the betrayal aspect."

"I noticed." Sophie took a larger sip of wine than strictly proper. "The board meeting yesterday made that clear."

"Ah yes. Johnson's little inquisition." Alexander's expression darkened. "I should have warned you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted to see how you'd handle it." He paused. "You surprised me."

"I've learned a few things in three years."

"Yes, I imagine working for Thompson Media after Vertex taught you quite a bit." His tone was carefully neutral. "Though I'm curious why you chose my competitors specifically."

Sophie set down her wine glass. "Would you believe me if I said it wasn't about you?"

"No."

"And that's the problem, isn't it?" She met his gaze steadily. "You're so convinced everything I did was about hurting you that you never considered there might be another explanation."

Their first course arrived – delicate seafood compositions that probably cost more than Sophie's weekly grocery budget. She watched Alexander take a bite, remembering other meals they'd shared. Takeout containers spread across his startup's conference table, quick sandwiches between meetings, that one perfect dinner when he'd first told her he loved her...

"Tell me then." His voice pulled her back to the present. "What explanation could possibly justify what you did?"

Sophie set down her fork. "Do you remember my mother's cancer diagnosis?"

The non sequitur seemed to startle him. "Of course. It was right before you... left."

"Did you know my father's company was failing? That he'd mortgaged everything trying to keep it afloat?"

Alexander's expression sharpened. "Sophie—"

"The insurance wouldn't cover my mother's treatment," she continued, the words spilling out now. "Dad was drowning in debt. And then Vertex approached me."

"With an offer to spy on your boyfriend's company." His voice held a bitter edge.

"With an offer to save my mother's life." Sophie's hands trembled as she reached for her wine. "They would pay for her entire treatment. All I had to do was—"

"Betray me."

"Give them information about products that were already in development." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Information that, as it turned out, made them too cautious to compete effectively. You said it yourself – Reid Technologies grew exponentially that year."

"While your mother received treatment." It wasn't quite a question.

"She's in remission now." Sophie smiled faintly. "She asks about you sometimes."

Alexander was silent for a long moment, absently turning his wine glass. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"And what? Ask my boyfriend to pay hundreds of thousands in medical bills? Risk his company's future on my family's problems?"

"I would have helped."

"That's exactly why I couldn't ask." Sophie blinked back unexpected tears. "You would have sacrificed everything you'd built, just because I asked. I couldn't let you do that."

"So you sacrificed us instead."

Their main courses arrived, but neither moved to touch them. The air between them felt charged with three years of unspoken words.

"I made a choice," Sophie said finally. "The wrong one, maybe. But I'd make it again if it meant saving my mother's life."

Alexander reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. The contact sent electricity up her arm. "You should have trusted me."

"I did trust you. That was the problem." She drew her hand back. "I trusted that you'd try to save everyone – my mother, my father's company, our relationship. And you would have destroyed yourself trying."

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"Wasn't it?" Sophie met his gaze. "Tell me honestly – what would you have done if I'd come to you?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "Everything you just said," he admitted finally. "I would have tried to fix it all."

"And that's why I couldn't tell you." She picked up her fork, needing something to do with her hands. "Better to let you hate me than watch you destroy yourself trying to save me."

"I never hated you." The intensity in his voice made her look up. "I wanted to. God knows I tried. But..."

"But?"

Instead of answering, he signaled for the check. "Come with me."

"Alexander—"

"Please." The word held weight she couldn't ignore. "There's something I need to show you."

Twenty minutes later, they stood in his private office at Reid Technologies, the city lights glittering below them like fallen stars. Alexander moved to his desk, unlocking a drawer.

"Three years ago, when you left," he said quietly, "I made myself a promise."

He placed a familiar jade pendant on the desk between them. Sophie's breath caught. She'd left it behind the day she walked away, unable to bear taking it with her.

"I promised myself," Alexander continued, "that I would understand why. That I would build something so magnificent, so undeniable, that you would have to come back and explain."

Sophie stared at the pendant, remembering the day he'd given it to her. Their one-year anniversary, the stone perfectly matched to her mother's family heirloom set.

"You built all this," she whispered, "to force an explanation?"

"I built all this," he stepped closer, "to bring you home."

The weight of that statement hung between them like crystal about to shatter.

"Xander," she breathed, using his old name without thinking.

His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek. "Tell me to stop."

She couldn't. Didn't want to.

When his lips met hers, three years of longing exploded into a single, perfect moment of clarity.

This was why she'd really come back.

This was what she'd been running from all along.

This was everything she couldn't afford to want.

But as his arms pulled her closer, as her hands found their way into his hair, Sophie realized something else:

Sometimes the price of a heart isn't measured in secrets or sacrifices.

Sometimes it's measured in the courage to try again.