Andrew keyed the ignition of his sedan and let out a slow breath, watching as dusk set the sky aflame with shades of orange and purple. The city around him seemed less like a bustling metropolis and more like a hushed stage set for something momentous. He had waited for this night. Anticipated it since that first tentative message on social media weeks ago. The moment he saw the familiar name and picture--Lisa Merritt (now Lisa Redford, but divorcing)--everything inside him shifted, as though ghosts from their teenage years had stirred awake.
They were both divorced now, both a little bruised by life. Both in need of something real, or maybe just a reminder of who they had once been.
He checked his phone again to verify her address. They had agreed to meet at a wine bar downtown for dinner and drinks. Lisa had insisted, half-jokingly, that she pick the place so that if the night somehow derailed, she could blame the ambiance rather than any fault of theirs. Andrew only chuckled at that. Nothing could possibly go wrong if she was in front of him--he had dreamed about her for years.
He drove in comfortable silence, letting the hum of traffic bolster his thoughts. Memories of Lisa from high school came rushing back: senior prom when she wore that crimson dress with a single rose pinned to her hair, the night they almost kissed on the football field but hesitated too long, that half-smile she always offered him whenever they locked eyes in the hallway. He'd been shy, and she'd been dating someone else. Their timing was never right. Then life happened--college, marriages, divorces. A messy swirl of experiences they'd each endured separately. And now, they were about to see if maybe, just maybe, it was time for their paths to finally intersect.
A Meeting Long Overdue
When Andrew entered the wine bar, the hostess welcomed him with a practiced smile. Soft golden lights illuminated the space, and the hum of conversation drifted like a gentle wave around them. He felt a sudden flutter in his stomach--part excitement, part nerves. Would she be the same Lisa he had once known, just older? Or would life have shaped her into someone unrecognizable?
Before he could dwell too much, he spotted her at a corner table. She was turned slightly away, scrolling through her phone. Light caught her hair--a deep, warm chestnut color that tumbled over her shoulders. She seemed smaller than he remembered, or maybe that was just the intimate setting casting a close-knit glow. Her lips curved in a relieved smile the moment she looked up.
"Andrew," she said, standing to give him a gentle hug. It felt like home, familiar in a way he hadn't experienced in a very long time. There was a slight tremor in his chest as they parted.
"You look amazing," he managed, trying not to stare too much at the subtle lines in her face that only seemed to accentuate her beauty, marking the life she'd lived since they were eighteen.
"And you look... well, older--but in a good way," she teased, eyes shining. "Still have that sincerity in your face, though."
He laughed, and they settled into their seats. Immediately, they fell into easy conversation, as if the intervening years were just a thin veil they could brush aside. They talked about high school memories, the time Lisa climbed out the classroom window to avoid a test, the day Andrew accidentally tripped over the principal's foot and spilled paint all over the hallway. Even the heartbreaks in their later years were less painful to recount in each other's company.
"It's weird, right?" Lisa remarked at one point, sipping her Cabernet. "I mean, how we never really found the chance back then? I always thought, you know, maybe I should have asked you out after Greg and I broke up, but then you were always so..."
"Shy," Andrew supplied.
"Exactly," she said, crinkling her nose in that gentle, playful way he remembered. "But I wanted to talk to you so many times."
He swallowed, a warmth settling into his chest. "Better late than never."
Her eyes danced. "Absolutely."
Dinner and Confessions
The waiter appeared with their entrées--grilled salmon for her, a steak for him. Conversation dipped into the heavier things. Lisa admitted how her marriage had disintegrated over five barren years--no real intimacy, almost no communication, like two ghosts inhabiting the same house. Andrew sighed, confessing that his own divorce was a dull ache that refused to go away, though it was definitely for the best. His ex-wife had grown distant, and neither knew how to rebuild the fractured trust.
"I can't believe it took so long to finalize everything," Andrew said, regarding the swirling wine in his glass. "Now that it's over, I just feel... a mixture of relief and guilt. Like maybe I should have tried harder, or maybe it was doomed from the start."
Lisa reached over the table and placed a comforting hand atop his. "I used to think that way too," she confided. "But you can't stay in a loveless marriage. It drains you. You forget who you are. Before you know it, you're just going through the motions."
He met her gaze. "That's exactly how it felt."
She nodded, eyes softening. "Then, there's the other part. The bedroom part."
Andrew felt a flush on the back of his neck. He remembered nights of dissatisfaction, that sense of mechanical repetition rather than genuine heat. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, that was... lacking, too."
Lisa exhaled. "Tell me about it. My ex--" She paused, taking another sip of wine as though bracing herself to admit something deeply personal. "He had a... single-minded approach, let's call it. He didn't like to try anything new, definitely didn't like me getting creative."
Andrew's brows lifted. "I guess I can relate. My ex liked routine. The same, every time."
Lisa smiled wryly. "Well, that's behind us both now. Maybe we can... explore." She let the word linger, and Andrew felt a jolt.
He coughed softly, taking a gulp of water to re-center. This conversation was venturing into territory he was both intrigued by and nervous about. "So, you're... open to trying new things?"
She smirked. "Are you?"
He met her gaze. Somewhere in that question lay a challenge, a spark that had never ignited between them when they were teens. His heart pounded. "I'd like to think so."
The Drive to Her Place
They lingered in the wine bar longer than expected. Conversation was too rich, too entertaining to cut short. A second glass of wine turned into a third, but both were mindful not to cross any lines of inebriation--they wanted clarity for the night that lay ahead.
Eventually, Lisa suggested they continue talking somewhere more private. Andrew agreed immediately. Memories of her, combined with the fresh swirl of desire building in his chest, made it impossible to say no. They decided on Lisa's place, a modest suburban home she had purchased after her separation.
On the drive, Andrew found himself rehearsing possible lines, things to say to ease any tension. But all his practiced phrases felt flat and unnecessary. Whatever was going to happen would unfold naturally--he could sense that.
He pulled up to her driveway, noticing the tidy yard and a small porch light casting a welcoming glow. A wooden wind chime tinkled softly in the breeze. Lisa guided him in. The house was cozy: plush carpets, warm lighting, and faint lavender scents lingering in the air.
