Chapter 1 The Gallery

The hum of polite conversation and the soft clinking of wine glasses filled the gallery like a whispering tide. Emily Carter stood near a wall draped with abstract canvases, holding a glass of red wine she had barely touched. The room was warm with soft lighting and filled with people who wore designer shoes and curated smiles. This was her world part business, part performance and she knew how to play her part.

It was the grand opening of "Lines & Light," a high-profile art exhibit in downtown Atlanta. Her firm had designed the interior layout, and the gallery owner had insisted she attend. Emily had shown up in a sleek navy jumpsuit and gold hoop earrings understated elegance. She knew how to blend in while still being seen, a skill she had learned the hard way.

She sipped her wine, eyes scanning the room, when she felt it that odd shift in the air. A sudden awareness, like someone watching her. She looked up, and her gaze locked with his.

Tall. Dark suit. Unapologetically confident. The kind of man who didn't need to introduce himself to be remembered. He stood across the room, near a sculpture installation, his eyes fixed on her with a mix of curiosity and something else... interest, maybe? Challenge?

Emily looked away first.

She hated that.

But when she looked again, he was walking toward her.

"Beautiful work," he said, nodding toward the wall of paintings beside her.

She raised a brow. "You mean the art or the layout?"

"Both," he said, flashing a half-smile. "But I was actually talking about the layout. You designed it?"

"I did."

"You have a good eye."

"You don't seem like someone who goes to art galleries."

He chuckled, low and warm. "I don't. But a friend dragged me here tonight. I'm glad he did."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she sipped her wine again.

"I'm Jason," he said, offering his hand.

"Emily."

Their handshake was brief but firm. Her pulse betrayed her just a little. He noticed.

"You always this calm around strangers?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Only when they stare from across the room before saying hello."

He smiled again, this time wider. "Guilty."

Emily turned toward the painting, buying herself a moment. "You like this piece?"

Jason stepped closer, not too close, but enough to make her aware of him. "It's chaotic. But I like that the chaos has structure. Like it was falling apart until someone decided it shouldn't."

She looked at him then. Really looked.

He wasn't just attractive. He was grounded. The kind of man who didn't flinch under pressure. The kind who had once been burned and rebuilt himself with thicker skin.

That made her nervous.

"So what do you do, Jason?" she asked, crossing her arms gently.

"I run a tech company. We build productivity tools for creative teams project management, visual planning. Boring stuff, depending on who you ask."

She laughed soft, genuine. "Sounds like something I could actually use."

He smiled again, this time more carefully. "Maybe I'll give you a free subscription."

"Bribery already?"

"No," he said, voice smooth. "Just trying to find a reason to see you again."

Emily stared at him, caught between the flutter in her chest and the instinct to run. That was the thing about her life now curated, organized, predictable. This? This wasn't in the plan.

"I don't usually date strangers I meet at art galleries," she said.

"Then let me not be a stranger," Jason said. "Let's change that."

A silence lingered. The kind that hummed with potential.

"Okay," she said, surprising even herself. "One drink. Not tonight. But maybe sometime."

Jason's smile softened. "I'll take it."

She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. He entered his number with a casual confidence that annoyed her mostly because it worked. He gave it back with a wink.

"I'll let you get back to looking mysterious," he said.

Emily raised a brow. "I wasn't trying to be mysterious."

"That's what makes it worse," he said, and then he walked away just like that.

She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until he was gone.

Emily stayed at the gallery a little longer, pretending to admire the art. But her mind kept circling back to Jason his voice, the way he held her gaze, that easy confidence. It wasn't just attraction. There was something quieter under the surface. A steadiness. A story.

And that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

"Earth to Emily," a familiar voice chimed behind her. She turned to see Renee, her assistant and closest friend, walking toward her in a fitted black dress and heels she was definitely going to complain about later. "You've been staring at that painting for fifteen minutes," Renee said. "Either you're deeply inspired, or you just met someone."

Emily smirked. "What makes you think it's not both?"Renee's eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"

"He came up to me. His name's Jason. He's... interesting."

"Interesting how? Tall and hot interesting or emotionally complex interesting?"

"Both."

Renee laughed. "Girl, you in trouble."

Emily rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "I'm not in anything. We just talked."

"Which is more than you've done with anyone since... him."

The mention hung in the air, soft and sharp.

Emily didn't respond. Instead, she walked toward the far end of the gallery where the crowd was thinner, the lights dimmer. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor, grounding her in the present. But her mind wandered unwillingly to the past.

It had been four years.

Four years since the phone call that changed everything.

Four years since her sister Morgan had stolen more than just the spotlight she had taken someone Emily had trusted. Someone Emily had thought might be the one. Of course, no one had known about them. It was brief, a quiet almost-relationship that never got off the ground. Because Morgan got there first. And Emily walked away.

Silently.

Gracefully.

Like she always did.

But it left a bruise that never really healed. One that made her question everything her judgment, her worth, her ability to trust.

So no, she didn't do spontaneous. She didn't do romantic surprises or charming strangers with dimples and ambition.

Until tonight.

Jason's smile flashed in her mind again, and she shook her head as if she could dislodge it.

"Okay, okay," Renee said, catching up. "But if you don't text him, I will."

"I haven't even decided if I like him yet."

"Liar," Renee said, bumping her shoulder. "You like him. You're just scared."

Emily didn't argue. Because Renee wasn't wrong.

Later that night, Emily sat on the edge of her bed, fingers hovering over her phone. She'd saved Jason's number, typed a message... and deleted it. Twice.

She didn't want to seem too eager. Or too cold. Or like someone who spent twenty minutes drafting one text.

Eventually, she typed:

"Nice meeting you tonight. The chaos with structure line? Pretty accurate."

She hit send before she could change her mind. Her heart did a little kick in her chest.

Seconds later, the three dots appeared.

Then a reply:

"Likewise. And I meant every word. Looking forward to round two."

She didn't reply. Not yet.

Instead, she put the phone down, turned off the lamp, and lay back against her pillows.

But she knew she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

Emily woke the next morning to sunlight pushing through her linen curtains and the faint sound of jazz humming from her neighbor's apartment downstairs. Saturday mornings were usually her sanctuary. She'd make coffee, answer emails, and forget the world for a while. But not today.

Today, her phone sat on her nightstand like it was watching her.

Jason Walker.

She didn't know much about him not really. But the way he'd looked at her, like he saw more than what she offered on the surface, it lingered. And she hated that it lingered. It was dangerous when things lingered.

Still in her robe, she padded into the kitchen, brewed a cup of coffee, and stood by the window watching the quiet stir in the neighborhood joggers passing, the mail truck rumbling through, the world doing what it always did.

And yet, her world felt slightly... off center. In a way that wasn't bad.

Her phone buzzed.

Jason Walker: "Would it be forward if I asked to see you today?"

She stared at the message. Smiled just a little.

Then typed back: "Only slightly. Depends on the ask."

His reply came within a minute.

Jason: "Lunch. Something casual. I promise no chaos structured or otherwise."

Emily exhaled. Not laughter, but something close to it. The kind of exhale that happens when your body wants to be cautious, but your heart is leaning in.

By noon, she was walking toward a quiet café tucked between bookstores in Midtown. It was a crisp fall day, and the city buzzed with that Saturday ease dogs on leashes, couples holding hands, kids eating ice cream even though it wasn't warm enough.

Jason was already seated at a patio table. Black sweater, dark jeans, clean-cut but not trying too hard. When he saw her, he stood a small, old-fashioned gesture that made something flicker in her chest.

"You came," he said.

"You asked," she replied, taking her seat.

The waitress brought menus, but they didn't open them.

"I wasn't sure you would," he said.

Emily shrugged. "I wasn't either."

They ordered soup and sandwiches, light and simple and fell into conversation with surprising ease. They talked about travel, music, how both of them secretly preferred staying in to going out. He told her about starting his company after walking away from a lucrative but soul-crushing job. She told him how she used to sketch dream homes in her school notebooks while other kids drew flowers.

He listened when she spoke. Really listened.

And that... wasn't common.

"So tell me something real," Jason said halfway through his coffee. "Something not on your website. Something you don't tell most people."

Emily leaned back, the question lingering in the space between them.

She could lie. Give him something surface-level. But for some reason, she didn't want to.

"My sister and I haven't spoken in four years," she said softly. "Not since... well, let's just say things got messy."

Jason's brow lifted slightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she said, then paused. "Not today."

He nodded. Didn't push. "Fair enough."

"But you?" she asked. "Your turn."

Jason took a sip, stared out at the street for a moment before speaking. "I was engaged once. It didn't work out."

She blinked, caught off guard by the way her chest tightened.

"Why not?" she asked carefully.

"We weren't right for each other. And I was too stubborn to admit it until it was too late."

He didn't offer more, and she didn't pry. But something in her gut tightened. Something familiar. Her past tugged at the edges, but she pushed it away.

It couldn't be.

It wouldn't be.

The odds were slim. Atlanta was big. Life wasn't that cruel.

Was it?

After lunch, they walked slowly toward the parking lot. The sun was slipping lower, casting golden light across the sidewalk.

"I enjoyed this," Jason said, hands in his pockets.

"Me too," Emily admitted.

"Can I see you again?"

She hesitated. Not because she didn't want to but because she did. Too much, too soon. And that scared her.

"You make me nervous," she said honestly.

Jason stopped walking and looked at her. "Why?"

"Because this feels like it could matter," she replied, her voice quiet.

His expression softened. "Isn't that the point?"

She didn't answer. Just looked at him like maybe, just maybe, the universe was giving her another shot.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Later that night, she was back in her apartment, curled on the couch with a blanket and her laptop open but forgotten. Her mind kept circling, replaying his smile, his voice, the weight of his words.

She reached for her phone not to text him, but to do what she knew she shouldn't.

Search: Jason Walker Atlanta + Engagement.

It took only a few scrolls.

There it was. A dated engagement announcement from a local business magazine.

Jason Walker and Morgan Carter.

The breath left her lungs like a punch.

Morgan.

Her sister.

Of all the people...

Emily dropped the phone onto the couch cushion beside her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her mouth felt dry. Her past wasn't behind her it had just walked back into her life wearing a perfect smile and asking for coffee.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the phone again.

But she didn't call.

She didn't text.

She just stared at the screen as the words blurred together.

If I can't have you..

The phrase looped in her mind like a warning. Like a promise.

And suddenly, everything felt too quiet