He gave a humorless huff. “That’s why I took the job with my father. Why I took the safe option. The respectable option.”
Lauren felt his hand pull her just slightly closer, as if instinct demanded it.
“And then I spent so long trying to match his style that I lost sight of my own,” Tom said. “I started designing like him.Thinkinglike him. Seeing the world like my parents do.”
His voice cracked a little. “I was always weak.”
Her breath snagged. She almost told him no, he wasn’t, but he kept going.
“But you?” His fingers brushed her jaw, slow and reverent. “You’ve always been strong. You’ve always known who you are. You’ve never needed anyone to give you permission.”
The song swelled, soft and shimmering, the notes floating in the snow-lit dark.
Loving him was just like falling—soft and unstoppable.
Just like their song.
Tom’s forehead touched hers. Their noses brushed. Their breaths mingled, warm and fragile.
His thumb traced a slow line under her ear, down her neck. The gentleness of it undid her, made her dizzy.
“You’re freezing,” she whispered, voice trembling.
He smiled—small, soft, unguarded. “Worth it.”
The laugh that broke from her was a soft, startled thing—part ache, part relief.
"I can't help falling in love with you,” he said. Then he kissed her.
The music surged. The cold vanished. The world fell away.
There was only the warmth of him, the aching familiarity of his mouth, the way his hands slid to her back like she was still his.
The ride back was quiet.
Not tense. Not awkward. Just… quiet.
When he pulled up in front of the house, he turned off the engine. His breath fogged the air between them. Snowflakes began to fall again, floating lazily in the beam of the streetlamp.
“Thank you,” Lauren said. Her voice sounded small.
He nodded. “Anytime.”
Part of her still believed that. Part of her still wanted to.
She opened the door, boots sinking into the soft snow that blanketed the front walk. The night felt too quiet after their song, too hollow after the warmth of his hands.
“Lauren?”
She looked back. Tom stood on the porch, eyes darker in the low light. Wrecked. Determined.
“Goodnight,” he said softly.
She forced herself to smile—just barely—and closed the door.
She listened to the engine as it faded away, leaving the house in heavy stillness.
Lauren stood there for a long moment, staring at the home he’d designed for her.
