Ihad wanted to stay with Gage. That was the truth.

    Yeah, I was that easy.

    The man showed up, did some work, and I was ready to forgive and forget.

    I rubbed my chest where my heart was, willing it to behave itself, willing it to give up how it felt about Gage.

    Right! Because it was that easy.

    The Elysian Bar was a short walk from the opera house—we were going from one church to another, I thought, amused as we stepped into the hallway where streetlights filtered through stained ss, throwing honey-colored patterns across linen-covered tables and worn wood floors. The scent of citrus, herbs, and smoked cocktails drifted—part altar fumes, part kitchen heat.

    The bar was nestled inside the Hotel Peter & Paul, a former Catholic church, rectory, and school dating back to the 1860s. Restored with near-reverence, the property had kept its soul intact—arched ceilings, antique light fixtures, confessional booths turned into reading nooks, and the old altar now a lobby centerpiece. Holiness reimagined.

    We were seated in what used to be a ssroom—the walls still bore faint outlines of chalkboards beneathyers of lime-washed ster. I knew all this because I’de here with Gage once, and he’d told me the history of the building.

    No matter what I did and where I was, he was ever-present.

    Love was all-consuming, I had learned in the past months, especially when it was lost. The happiness I’d felt being with Gage was in direct weight to the sadness I felt now. The confusion of having him back, wanting me back, only added to the heaviness inside me.

    I always wanted to find love—the incontrovertible and unconditional kind—what I had experienced with my parents. I had tried not to fall for Gage. But the stupid heart went right ahead and made one of my biggest mistakes.

    But he’s back.

    But what if he gets cold feet again and hurts me?

    We sat near the window, overlooking Burgundy Street. On the table were two sses of Gamay and a basket of warm focia, which I tore into like it owed me something.

    I ordered the chicken under a brick, which they did to perfection at the Elysian, while Jonah ordered the chef’s cut pork.

    “The runway show went well,” Jonah remarked, and I realized that I hadn’t said much since we left the opera house.

    “Yes, it did,” I murmured.

    He tilted his head. “He wants you back.”

    I bit my lower lip and shrugged, not sure how to respond. I wasn’t sure what Gage wanted—and what wanting me back even meant, now that I thought about it.

    Did he want us to be fuck buddies again? No, I knew he didn’t. But how did he suddenly go from not willing tomit to saying he was ready to jump in?

    “He’s confusing the hell out of me,” I blurted out.

    Jonah raised his wine ss. “To you, darlin’.”

    I clinked my ss against his and gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry you’re caught up in this emotional crossfire.”

    He let out a quiet chuckle. “Ah, it’s just a flesh wound.”

    “Still, I am sorry.” I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, but…I felt like I needed to somehow make it right with Jonah.

    I felt a little like Gage when he’d been with me—I had told Jonah that I could only be a friend, knowing he wanted more.

    “Hey, it’s fine.” Jonah leaned back in his chair. “I’m not heartbroken.”

    I wrinkled my nose. “That’s a good thing, right?”

    Heughed now. “Yes, darlin’, it is. But I don’t usually get my heart broken. I may be a little like your Gage…not letting people get in too deep.”

    Your Gage?

    “Me too,” I confessed. “My parents died when I was young and since then…I’m careful about who I let into my life.”

    “I’m honored, then, to be let in, Naomi.”

    Our food arrived, and our conversation went from serious to humorous as we talked about other things.

    We were halfway through our entrées when a couple who were being led to their table lit up when they saw Jonah.

    “Oh my God!” the woman eximed.

    Jonah rose and hugged her, and then shook hands with the man.

    Introductions followed.

    The husband and wife owned a gallery in the Warehouse District and talked about it like it was a temple they built with their blood. They knew Jonah from “that artist’s fundraiser,” then a wine tasting in Napa, then “that sushi thing with the DJ on the roof.”

    They talked some more, and when it was suggested that they join us, I wished Jonah had refused. I wanted to get some food in my system and then go home soon and close my eyes. As an introvert, today had been a day with lots of interaction with people, and now I needed some quiet time.

    That had never been a problem with Gage—he understood because he was like me, and we could be silent together.

    “I’ve never been in your store, but now I just will have to check it out,” the woman trilled.

    “I’ll be happy to find something you like.” I smiled.

    As they talked, I sipped my wine, tuning out the conversation. I nodded asionally, offering a yes or no with a smile. I let the server clear my half-eaten te.

    My appetite was shot.

    These people weren’t my crowd, though Jonah fit in with them seamlessly—and he somehow managed to do just fine with Aurelie and her people. He had that skill, the ability to feel at home no matter who he was with, and make those with him feelfortable.

    He was easy, pleasant, and charming.

    But he didn’t let people in, and I realized that I didn’t know Jonah. I may not have known a lot about Gage’s past, but I knew him. I knew what he liked and what made him tick—while Jonah was like a character in a book, I only got the glimpses he, as the narrator, allowed me to see.

    I excused myself and went to the bathroom tucked near what used to be the school’s library, now lit with candles and a wide antique mirror framed in gold.

    I leaned over the sink, staring at my reflection

    Lipstick faded. Curls pinned. Eyes tired but still hopeful.

    I didn’t look unhappy. I just looked…in between.

    Gage looked like that, as well.

    What are you doing, Naomi?

    I don’t know.

    My phone beeped with a message from Aurelie: Your man looks like someone kicked his puppy. But we’re taking care of him.

    She’d taken a photograph of her and a few others sitting around a table with burgers. They were at Marie’s down the street on Burgundy. After R-Bar, that was one of Aurelie’s haunts—especially when she was in need of a smash burger.

    I could just leave here, and within five minutes, I’d be with my people. With Gage.

    I couldn’t lie to myself, but I had hoped that I’d feel something for Jonah—something that would take this pain of losing Gage away.

    I may not know what I wanted to do about the 180 Gage had done—but I did know one thing, I wouldn’t fill the silence in my heart with someone else’s voice just to quiet the unease and the ache.

    I wouldn’t try on someone else’s version of love to see if it fit.

    I wouldn’t have a fling with Jonah.

    Then what are you going to do about Gage?

    I have absolutely no idea.