So I nod. We move around each other easily, like some small domestic dance we have done a thousand times. She rinses dishes. I dry. She wipes the counter. I stoke the fire.
When everything is clean, she turns toward me with a small smile.
“Dinner was amazing.”
I give her a shrug. “Glad you liked it.”
“I more than liked it. I think that was the best dinner I’ve had in months? Maybe longer.”
I smirk. “I’ll cook again.”
She raises and eyebrow in question. “Will you?”
“If you’re here.”
Her breath hitches.
She stares at me a long moment, eyes flicking over my face, searching for something. Maybe confirmation I’m not teasing. Maybe permission to want more.
“Tony,” Her voice softens. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
I step closer. Slow. Deliberate. Not touching her—just letting my presence settle around her like heat from the fire.
“Because I want to be,” I state simply. “Because you deserve someone in your corner.”
Her eyes shimmer.
I don’t touch her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t push.
I just stand there, giving her space to decide.
After a few seconds, she exhales shakily. “Thank you.”
“For dinner?”
“For everything.”
I nod once. “You’re welcome.”
She hugs her arms around herself like trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside. “I should probably go. I have a full day tomorrow.”
“You sure?” I ask softly.
She hesitate—just long enough to tell me she didn’t want to leave. But finally she nods.
“Okay,” I respond. “Let me walk you out.”
At the door, she pauses, looking up at me through her lashes. “I’m glad I came,” she whispers expectedly.
“So am I.”
She draws in a slow breath, then steps into the cold night. I standon the threshold, watching her climb into her car.
Before she shuts the door, she calls softly, “Goodnight, Tony.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Sleep well, Holley.”
Her cheeks flush again, and she begins back down the drive.
