“From the moment I first saw him, something short-circuited in my brain. I tried to fight it, I really did, but the more I resisted, the more I wanted him. And not just physically. I want all of him. His mind, his heart, his fears, his brilliance. I can’t let him go. I won’t.”
A tightness swells in my chest. Just imagining a life without Sebastian feels unbearable.
Francis reaches across the table and places a hand on my forearm. His touch is steady, grounding. When I meet his eyes, they’re softer than I’ve seen them in ages. That one gesture says it all:I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.
Right then, our food arrives, smelling absolutely divine, but my stomach is still doing somersaults. I can’t even look at my plate properly.
Francis, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat. He tucks in without hesitation, chewing contentedly like I haven’t just dropped a bomb on him.
I blink at him. Then burst into laughter.
“How are you eating right now?”
He glances up, unfazed. “Because I’m not a drama queen like you,” he says brightly. “And if you don’t start eating, I’m nicking yours too.”
I reach for my wine glass and pour myself a very generous amount. “Fine. But I need this first.”
Without a word, he slides his glass across the table. I fill it.
“You’re impossible. How are we even still friends?”
“Because you love me,” he says, smirking. “Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”
I groan, but I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. He’s already bounced back from the shock like only Francis can.
“Just trying to lighten the mood, mate,” he says with a shrug, his tone warm. “You looked like you needed it.”
“I get it," I mutter.” But this is serious. It’s a mess.”
A few diners glance over, and I hadn’t even noticed my voice had climbed.
“Remi, chill,” Francis says under his breath, sliding my plate toward himself. “You weren’t eating it anyway. Maybe dessert will tempt you.”
I knock back the rest of my wine, letting the burn settle in my chest. When he starts talking again, I’m a little lighter. A little fuzzier. But calmer.
“Look, Remi,” he says. “I didn’t expect this, but honestly? I’m not that surprised. Drama aside, if you and Seb want to be together, that’s not the end of the world. Weirder stuff has happened. Wait, hedoeswant to be with you, right?”
I snort. “Yeah. Somehow. I don’t get it either. He’s brilliant, gorgeous, magnetic… and I’m just a stressed-out nerd with a thing for obscure academic theory.”
Francis whistles. “Wow. You’re screwed.”
“Excuse me?”
“Remi, you’ve got itbad. I’ve known you half your life, and I’veneverseen you like this.”
“So what the hell do I do?!”
He leans back in the booth, considering. “Well, since it’s pretty clear you’re not letting go of your beautiful pianist, and fair enough, you’ve only got one real option.”
“Which is?”
“Tell Maddie. Soon. This isn’t something you can keep under wraps much longer.”
I wince. “Anne’s going to hate me. That’s bad enough. But what if she turns her back on Seb, too? He came back to rebuild their friendship, and I’ve just gone and wrecked it.”
“Stop.” Francis fixes me with a look. “You told me he wants you back. That means this is mutual. You didn’t trick him or drag him into anything. Life’s messy. Love’s even messier. But it’s also rare. And if you find the real thing, you don’t walk away from it. You hold on.”
He pauses. And for just a moment, I see something shift in his eyes, something raw and unspoken. It pulls me straight back to the day my dad died. Francis was sitting on the edge of my bed, not saying a word. No empty reassurances. No clumsy attempts to fix it. Just a quiet presence, holding me while I let the grief come.
