Tristan’s head pounded with a vengeance. He was aware it would be painful to meet Izzie again, but that devastating emptiness in his chest made for an unpleasant surprise. He always thought he would get furious, outraged even. When he envisioned that hypothetical encounter, he pictured himself dismissing Izzie with a few well-deserved arctic remarks.

He thought he was over her betrayal.

He thought he was over her. Period.

Instead, his blood turned to lava at the sight of her perfect round face framed by pitch black hair cut way too short. Large green eyes sparkled in the dim light of the restaurant, accentuating a turned-up nose and heart-shaped lips that wore a pale shade of rose. Such a subdued color, lightyears away from the dark mauve hues that used to stain his tank tops and mark his chest along with various other parts of his anatomy.

Don’t go there!

He made a superhuman effort to ignore his body’s reaction to her petite form. She had always had that power over him, turning him into a mess of quivering muscles that hungered for her soothing touch. For the longest time, Izzie was the only one who appeased that hunger. He was annoyed to learn she still sent his libido into overdrive. He wasn’t a hormone-driven teen anymore. He should be able to control his body.

Tristan banned traitorous memories of their good times to focus on the pain and humiliation she had introduced him to. He needed to send her back to whatever hole she had crawled out of, so he could return to his new life.

His organized life.

His pain-free life.

He didn’t want to know why she had returned. He didn’t care.

He didn’t want to find out if the rumors were true. He didn’t need her lying shit right now. He surely didn’t need to make her feel comfortable, when his guts felt turned inside out. Throughout the years, Tristan realized he had a hollow space where his heart had once been. Now, it felt like that gaping hole had swallowed his soul.

Izzie had made him heartless and soulless.

So why does my chest hurt so goddamn much?

A not-so-discreet cough sounded to his right and Tristan snapped out of the all-consuming trance he had fallen, when Izzie tilted his world out of its axis. He and Izzie were silently dueling right at his restaurant’s entrance, forcing Karen to remind him she had a job to do. Looking past Izzie’s head, he realized that at least five customers were standing, waiting to be taken to their reserved tables. None looked pleased.

Tristan acknowledged the group with a dip of his head and an apologetic grin, “I’m so sorry. Welcome to Chez Nous Bistro.” He nodded towards the hostess, who didn’t smile back at him. She would give him lip next chance she had. He deserved it. “Karen’s going to take good care of you. Enjoy your meal.”

He motioned for Izzie to follow him since she didn’t know the way, as he marched through linen covered tables where celeb-struck people gaped at them. He tried without much success not to stomp, deaf to the lively rendition of Mozart’s Serenade No. 13 that streamed from invisible loudspeakers. Noah, Nelson and Tristan busted their asses to put together the restaurant and it turned out a damn classy joint. He was proud of Chez Nous. He was comfortable there. It was an Izzie-free zone, his safe haven. He didn’t want Izzie in there. He didn’t want her to make new memories that would torment him later.

Not anymore.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare clients away, so he couldn’t take Izzie to the parking lot, nor could they stay in the lobby, or in the main room. The office was the only place left where they could have some privacy. He jerked the door open and waited for Izzie to enter, followed her in, then slammed the door shut.

“You’ve got a nice thing going here,” she praised, but he didn’t know if she meant the upscale restaurant, or the elegant office furniture.

Either way, he didn’t care. “Cut the crap. Why are you here?”

He ignored the twinkle in her green eyes that indicated her ache. He reminded his heart that he was heartless.

No feelings allowed.

He couldn’t budge.

If he hesitated for the briefest moment, he would give Izzie the upper hand.

In the past, her suffering had been his undoing.

Every.

Fucking.

Time.

Not anymore.

So why is my heart thudding against my ribcage?

Telling his traitorous ticker to be still, Tristan glowered at the woman standing next to him. Ignoring the perilous curves that the green silk of her calf-length dress hugged, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

She nodded to the overstuffed leather chairs facing his desk. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Suit yourself.”

He chose to stand beside his mahogany desk while Izzie perched on the edge of one of chairs.

“What happened to Lilly?”

“What do you care?” Tristan muttered through clenched teeth.

Again, with the sad puppy eyes? He wouldn’t fall for that.

Izzie shrugged. “Your mom was always nice to me. Besides my parents, I didn’t have much of a family in Thousand Oaks. Lilly was kind of an aunt to me.”

“I remember how your parents spoiled you rotten.” Disdain framed his speech now. It wasn’t always like that.

Growing up, he had envied Izzie’s easy relationship with her loving parents. Lilly was an amazing mother, and he loved her dearly. She had more than compensated for the worthless excuse of a father, who took off before Tristan was born. As a kid, it had sucked not having a dad. Then, it had sucked more dealing with the long string of his mom’s boyfriends.

Izzie pointed her chin up and let his remark slide. “You sounded like there’s something going on with Lilly just now when I asked.”

“No. I said she was doing great.”

“You lied,” she deadpanned.

Damn it! She can still see through my bullshit.

Then, he reminded himself she had lost the right to that a long time ago.

His turn to shrug. “If you say so.”

“Not buying it.”

“Not selling anything.” They locked gazes and Tristan would be damned if he backed down first.

Time stood still.

Unable to stare into Izzie’s forest green eyes any longer, he caved in. “She’s sick, alright?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is, some sort of congenital kidney disease. She’s been on dialysis for a couple of years.”

This time there was no mistaking the pain that shadowed Izzie’s face, the hint of moisture that made her eyes glisten. A blue vein beat wildly on her neck as she combed her black pixie hair with her long fingers, locking them behind her neck for a moment, before returning her hands to her lap. He noticed she didn’t wear a ring on each finger as she used to, but she wore the Claddagh he gave her on senior prom night.

Not subtle at all, Ms. Anderson.

That solid wall he had built around his heart just got chipped.

Damage control was in order.

He reminded himself of Izzie’s betrayal and how much it had cost him.

He resumed scowling.

Before Izzie had a chance to say how sad she was for his mom, he needed to say something. He didn’t doubt her concern was sincere, but Lilly Knight was a major soft spot in his armor. Izzie knew it just too well. He needed to keep the upper hand. An attack sounded like the best defense.

“Cut the small talk. Why are you here?” Tristan repeated.

His office furniture had been hand-picked to put visitors at ease, which wasn’t working for Izzie. Watching her fidget with her hands got to his oversensitive nerves. Yet he waited for her next words.

When her tight lips remained sealed, he blew out an impatient sigh and draped one leg over the edge of the desk, resting his ass on its top and dangling his foot. He hoped she bought into his unruffled act because the tight leash he kept his self-control under was about to give.

“After fifteen years, Izzie, why now?”