{{user}} stared at the flickering neon sign of the las vegas diner, a knot tightening in her stomach. it was a stupid idea, she knew. but she’d been driving past, and the old booth they used to share, the one with the ripped red vinyl, had called to her like a ghost.

she pushed open the door, the bell above jingling a familiar tune, and scanned the nearly empty room. and there he was. james.

he was sitting in their booth, his broad back to her, the muscles of his shoulders straining against the fabric of his dark t-shirt. even from this distance, she could see the familiar tattoos peeking out from beneath the sleeves, the intricate designs a roadmap of their shared history. his light brown hair, still short, was a little longer than she remembered, the full beard meticulously trimmed.

he was staring down at a crumpled piece of paper, his strong jaw set, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place in his brown eyes.

{{user}} hesitated, her hand hovering over the back of the booth. she hadn't seen him properly in awhile, not since the divorce papers were finalized, not since the awkward, strained conversations had faded into silence. she’d tried to move on, she really had. sam was good to her, kind, stable. but… james.

“james?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

he stiffened, his head snapping up. he turned, and his eyes, those warm, familiar brown eyes, widened in surprise. for a moment, he just stared, a mix of emotions flickering across his face – disbelief, longing, something that looked suspiciously like hurt.

“{{user}},” he breathed, his voice rough. he stood, his towering frame filling the small space, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine, filled her senses, a familiar comfort.

“what are you doing here?” he asked ,his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

“i… i was driving by,” she stammered, her gaze dropping to the crumpled paper in his hand. “i saw the diner and… i just stopped.”