Elijah chuckles. “I’m down for weird and good. Maybe some fresh coffee beans too? We can grind our own.”
I nod, feeling warmth bubble up. “Yes! And maybe some fresh flowers." He squeezes my hand gently. “Perfect. Saturday afternoon?”
I glance at him, biting my lip a bit. “There’s that new art exhibit downtown. You know, the one with the modern and abstract pieces? It seemed interesting.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.” His smile is easy, but then his gaze sharpens for a moment. “You okay with crowds?”
I nod, but the little knot in my stomach tightens unexpectedly. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Sunday”, he says, “It's all ours. No plans. Just breakfast in bed, cuddles, some binge-watching, and well… maybe some extra snuggles and more orgasms for my sweet baby girl?”
I blush but grin. “Only if you promise to keep being my Daddy.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Always, baby girl. Always.”
We settle back into the quiet comfort of the moment, the weekend ahead full of promise and the kind of love that makes everything feel a little brighter.
The morning smells like fresh earth and sunshine as we wander through the farmers’ market, hand in hand. We pick up a crusty loaf of sourdough, a jar of tangy raspberry-lavender jam, some ripe berries, and a bouquet of wildflowers with bright yellows and purples.
At a little stand, Elijah lingers over a bag of dark roast beans. “These will make mornings a lot better.”
“Best coffee,” I say, feeling happy to share this simple joy with him.
Chapter twenty-two
Ava
Later,attheartexhibit, the white walls and bright lights feel almost surreal. I squeeze Elijah’s hand as we move through the gallery, admiring the bold colors and chaotic brushstrokes.
Then, out of nowhere, I spot a familiar figure—George.
My ex. Standing not far away, chatting with a group of people.
My breath catches.
Elijah notices. His gaze sharpens, but he stays calm, pulling me a little closer.
“Do you want to leave?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head, trying to steady myself. “No. I want to stay. I …” I swallow hard, “I wasn’t expecting him here.”
Elijah’s fingers tighten on my hand. “You’re with me now. Whatever comes, I’ve got you.”
His calm steadies me as we continue through the exhibit, each piece a little reminder that the past is there—but so is this moment, and this new life we’re building together.
We linger near a large abstract painting—swirls of black and crimson bleeding into one another—when I catch sight of George across the room. He hasn’t noticed me yet. My heart flutters, a mix of old memories and new anxiety.
Elijah senses my change before I say a word. He gently squeezes my hand and leans close. “You okay?”
Before I can say more, George’s eyes find me. His smile is polite but guarded as he starts walking over, the crowd parting for him like a wave.
Elijah steps slightly in front of me, calm and steady. “Hello, George.” His voice is neutral but carries a clear undercurrent of ownership.
George pauses, eyes flicking between us. “Ava.” His tone is respectful, maybe a little surprised. “Well, this is quite the surprise, I wouldn’t have imaginedyouin a place like this.”
I take a breath, standing a little taller. “It’s a public exhibit and I do love art.” My voice is steady. “How are you?”
“Good,” he answers simply. “I see you’re… well.” His glance lands on Elijah, and then back to me, weighing. “I’msopleased to see you doing well. Truly.”
