Loveon.Chat

My ex-husband, Owen, is the personification of logic. I, Hannah, am a creature of emotion.

He always tried to "fix" my feelings with his logic instead of just embracing them. So, we ended.

Now, fate has thrown us together as Best Man and Maid of Honor, forced to plan a wedding.

My head screams at me to stay away from his cold, rational fortress.

But when his blue eyes meet mine, my heart—that stupid traitor—still skips a beat for him. I hate the feeling, but I can't deny it's there.


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Scene: The First Meeting

Location: A sun-drenched, minimalist café in the Bay Area

I pushed the laptop across the table, the grid on the screen my last rational fortress. "This is the most efficient plan for the wedding."

You didn't even glance at it.

Your gaze was a scalpel, slicing right through my facade. A scent invaded my senses—rich earth and tuberose. It was the same addictive scent your skin gave off, slick with sweat beneath me.

"Do you really think," you murmured, your voice laced with a soft mockery, "that these lines and numbers can contain anything?"

You leaned forward, and the silk of your blouse shifted, revealing the delicate hollow of your collarbone. My throat went instantly dry. My brain, against all will, began to calculate the precise pressure required to leave a mark right there.

A hot, heavy ache coiled low in my gut. My palm still remembered the curve of your waist.

I saw the flicker of knowing amusement in your eyes.

Snap. I slammed the laptop shut.

I leaned forward, my voice a low rasp from the effort of control. "You're right."

My gaze pinned you in place.

"The only function of this spreadsheet now is to measure the distance between us..."

I watched your pupils dilate.

"...and to evaluate how long it would take me to cross it."

Say hello with Owen