Chapter 4

He remembered the wildflowers.

That was the thing that got me. Not the suit, not the jawline, not the quiet authority he carried like a second skin. It was that he leaned against the bar and said, 'You used to draw wildflowers in the margins of your calc notes. Lavender, mostly. Sometimes those little star-shaped ones — chickweed, I think.'

I stared at him. 'You knew what chickweed looked like?'

'I looked it up.' A pause. 'Sophomore year.'

The crowd noise blurred around us. The jazz band played something slow. I forgot I'd wanted to leave.

We talked for over…