She Meets Her First Crush Again at a Reunion, Not Knowing the Boy She Loved Is a Millionaire Now
Morning Light and Lingering Doubts
Frankie woke to the scent of dark roast coffee and something warm and buttery. For a moment, she forgot where she was until her gaze landed on the skyline outside the massive windows.
Right. Sawyer’s penthouse.
She sat up slowly on the plush sectional, pulling the throw blanket tighter around her.
Her dress from last night was wrinkled, her hair a tangled mess, and yet the moment felt strangely peaceful. Her shoes were neatly placed beside the couch.
A folded note sat on the coffee table, her name scrolled in sharp, confident handwriting: “In the kitchen.”
Against her better judgment, her heart flipped. She padded across the sleek floors, trying not to make noise.
The open-concept kitchen was a masterpiece of glass, marble, and brushed steel. Sawyer stood at the stove, sleeves pushed up, flipping something on a skillet.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Morning, Frankie.”
“Morning,” she said awkwardly, tugging at the hem of her dress. “You cook?”
“I try. I figured you’d need something before you face the world again.”
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I didn’t exactly plan on falling asleep here.”
“You were exhausted,” he said, setting a plate down. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
She eyed the food: scrambled eggs, croissants, and fresh fruit arranged like it belonged on a hotel menu.
“You do realize this is the second time you’ve surprised me in less than twenty-four hours?”
He set two mugs down and poured the coffee. “Do you always sound this suspicious before caffeine?”
She took a sip and exhaled. “Okay, that’s unfairly good.”
He watched her for a beat. “You always talk like that? Like you’re on guard?”
“I’ve had to be.”
Sawyer didn’t press, but the weight of his silence made her feel exposed anyway. After a few bites, she spoke again.
“So, what happened after high school?”
He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the island.
“I got a scholarship. Studied software engineering. Started my first company halfway through sophomore year.”
She tilted her head. “That’s fast.”
“It didn’t feel fast. It felt like sprinting through fire, but I got lucky. Right product, right investor, right time.”
“And now you live in a penthouse and make gourmet breakfasts.”
His lips curved faintly. “It’s not all eggs and city views.”
She hesitated. “Is there someone else?”
“No. There was someone briefly, but she didn’t really see me.”
Frankie nodded slowly. “I get that. Relationships weren’t exactly high on my list.”
“Art school was a mess. I dropped out my second year. Been working ever since.”
“I always thought you’d end up doing gallery shows.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, shrugging. “Turns out talent and rent don’t always get along.”
His gaze softened. “You’re still drawing?”
“Sometimes. When I can afford sketch pads.”
He walked around the counter and stopped in front of her. “I don’t like how that sounds.”
She looked up at him, heart thudding. “It’s not your problem.”
“It could be.”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Don’t make this some kind of charity case. I didn’t come here for—”
“I know you didn’t,” he said, voice low. “But I’m not going to apologize for wanting to help someone I care about.”
“You don’t know me anymore, Frankie.”
“I knew you better than anyone,” he said, stepping closer. “And I think the only difference now is you stopped letting people in.”
She blinked, caught off guard. The elevator chimed. Sawyer frowned.
“I’m not expecting anyone.”
A moment later, a woman strode in through the private entryway, tall blonde designer heels clicking against the polished floor.
“Of course,” she said, breezing past them. “You’re always entertaining someone.”
“Vanessa,” he said tightly. “This isn’t a good time.”
Frankie stood frozen, unsure if she should hide behind the counter or throw the croissants at her. Vanessa’s eyes swept over Frankie.
“And who is this?”
“No one you need to meet,” Sawyer said flatly.
Vanessa turned to him, ignoring Frankie entirely. “You still haven’t signed the paperwork.”
“The development project in Tribeca—we need your approval by Monday.”
“I’ll look at it later.”
She stepped closer than necessary. “We’re not partners anymore, but if you keep dragging your feet, I’ll take it to the board myself.”
Sawyer’s jaw tightened. “I said, I’ll handle it.”
Vanessa gave Frankie one last glance. “You always did have a thing for lost causes.”
Frankie’s spine straightened. “And you always did assume your opinion mattered.”
Vanessa’s brows lifted. “Charming.”
Once the elevator doors closed behind her, silence fell. Frankie turned to him.
“Ex-girlfriend? Ex-business partner?”
“She thinks she’s both,” he muttered.
“You’ve got a type, then.”
He looked at her sharply. “No, I don’t.”
She picked up the coffee again. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”
“I didn’t know she still had access to the elevator.”
“You should probably fix that.”
Sawyer ran a hand through his hair. “I will. I just… I didn’t want this morning to go like that.”
“Me either.”
“I meant what I said, Frankie. I don’t care where you are now. I care about who you are.”
“And who do you think that is?”
He stepped closer. “The same girl who used to draw on the edges of her math tests. Who loved thunderstorms and hated elevators.”
“Who once told me the world felt too loud.”
Her throat tightened. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything.”
She couldn’t look away from him.
“I don’t want to be a project.”
“You’re not. You’re the one thing I don’t want to fix. I just want to be near.”
Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“I should go.”
“I won’t stop you,” he said. “But I hope you don’t.”
She hesitated, then grabbed her shoes from the couch. He followed her to the door.
“Can I see you again?”
She looked up at him, torn. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re real,” she said. “Or just something that looks good in the morning light.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and Sawyer stood staring at it like it had taken something vital with it.
