The keynote speech started at eight sharp.
The lights dimmed in the main tent. A spotlight hit the stage. Alexander stepped up to the podium like he owned the night which, in a way, he did. Black tux, crisp white shirt open at the collar, no notes in his hands. He didn't need them. He never had.
The crowd hushed. Phones lowered. Even the clink of champagne glasses stopped.
He started talking about the future, AI that could change lives, not just portfolios. His voice carried easy, low, confident. Every word landed. People nodded. Some scribbled notes. I sat near the front with Marcus and a table full of his colleagues, trying to look like I was listening to the speech instead of the man giving it.
But I wasn't.
I was watching Alexander's hands grip the sides of the podium. The way his shoulders moved when he gestured. The small smile that tugged at his mouth when someone in the audience laughed at one of his lines.
And then his eyes found me.
It wasn't subtle. He didn't glance and look away. He held my gaze steady and deliberate right in the middle of a sentence about "bridging human potential with technology."
The room disappeared.
Just him and me.
Twenty years collapsed again.
My breath caught. My fingers tightened around the stem of my champagne flute until I thought it might snap.
He kept talking. Smooth. Professional. But his eyes stayed on me longer than they should have. Long enough that the woman next to me shifted uncomfortably, like she felt the heat too.
Marcus leaned close. "He's good, isn't he? VossTech's been killing it this quarter."
I nodded. Couldn't speak. My throat was too tight.
Alexander finished the speech. Applause exploded. He gave a small nod, stepped off the stage. People swarmed him immediately handshakes, back slaps, business cards.
I stayed seated. Heart pounding.
Marcus stood. "I'm going to say hello. You coming?"
I swallowed. "In a minute. I need some air."
He kissed my temple quick, distracted and headed toward the crowd.
I waited until he was swallowed by suits, then slipped out the side flap of the tent.
The night air was cool off the ocean. Salt and wet grass. String lights swayed overhead. I walked toward the beach path, heels sinking a little in the soft ground. The music from inside faded behind me.
I stopped at the edge of the dunes. Waves crashed dark and steady below. I wrapped my arms around myself, red silk suddenly not enough against the chill.
Footsteps behind me.
I didn't turn.
I knew who it was.
Alexander stopped a few feet away. Hands in his pockets. Wind tugging at his hair.
"You left," he said quietly.
"I needed to breathe."
He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I could feel his warmth cutting through the cold.
"You looked beautiful in there," he said. "Sitting in that sea of people, wearing red, looking like you were the only real thing in the room."
I laughed once, soft, shaky. "I felt like a fraud."
"Why?"
"Because I'm here with my husband. Because I danced with you. Because every time you look at me I forget how to pretend everything's fine."
He exhaled. "Then stop pretending."
I turned to face him. Moonlight caught his eyes blue and bright and full of everything we'd never said.
"I can't just stop," I whispered. "Sophia. Marcus. My whole life is built on this… this careful balance. If I let it tip…"
"It's already tipping, El." His voice was rough. "You feel it. I feel it. That dance wasn't polite. That look across the room wasn't polite. None of this is polite anymore."
Tears burned behind my eyes. "What do you want from me?"
"Everything." He took one step closer. "Or nothing. But I'm done pretending I don't want you back. All the way back. The way we were. The way we could be."
I shook my head. "We're not kids anymore."
"No. We're not." He reached out slow, brushed his knuckles along my jaw. "We're adults who know what they lost. And what they still want."
His touch was light. Barely there. But it lit me up like fire.
I closed my eyes. Leaned into it just a fraction.
"Alex…"
"Tell me to stop," he said. "Tell me to walk away. I will."
I opened my eyes. Looked at him.
"I can't."
His hand slid to the back of my neck. Gentle. Possessive.
Then he kissed me.
Soft at first. Careful. Like he was asking permission.
I answered.
My hands fisted in his lapels. I kissed him back harder, hungrier. Twenty years of missing poured out in one desperate press of lips. He groaned low in his throat. Pulled me closer. One arm around my waist. The other cradling my head like I was something precious.
The kiss tasted like salt air and champagne and regret and hope all at once.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
His forehead rested against mine.
"God, El," he whispered. "I've waited so long for that."
Me too.
I didn't say it. Couldn't. The words were stuck behind the guilt and the fear and the ache.
Voices drifted from the tent—laughter, music starting up again.
Reality crashed back.
I stepped away. Hands shaking.
"I have to go back in," I said. "Marcus will wonder where I am."
Alexander nodded. Didn't argue. Just watched me with eyes that looked wrecked.
"Find me later," he said again. "If you want."
I didn't answer.
I turned and walked back toward the lights. Heels sinking in sand. Red dress catching the wind.
My lips still tingled.
My heart was screaming.
And I didn't know how I was going to walk back into that tent and pretend nothing had changed.
Because everything had.