He chases the moment, but I know him. He won’t let himself finish unless he thinks I’m there too. So I draw in a shaky breath and let out a sound I don’t feel, forcing my body to tense as if something real has hit me.
It’s enough.
His relief rushes out in a harsh exhale as he stills, burying his face against my shoulder as he shudders.
I keep my forehead pressed to my arm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, breathing through the ache in my chest. Because nothing has changed. Nothing feels better. I take a deep breath, straighten my dress, and turn to face him. My hands are shaking, so I hide them behind my back and force a smile.
“Will you sleep in our bed tonight?” I ask quietly.
Kade finishes tucking himself away, brows pulling together before he lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Maybe.”
It isn’t the answer I want, but it’s better than no. I step closer and kiss him. He hesitates at first—just a flicker—but he still kisses me back, his lips soft but guarded.
“I love you,” I whisper, needing him to hear it.
“I love you too, Eden.” His gaze drifts to the little rooftop table, then to the empty bottle of wine beside it. “Did you drink that whole bottle?”
I laugh, light and fake and awful. “I must’ve. I was so busy setting everything up, I didn’t really keep track.”
“So you’re drunk?” His voice isn’t accusing—it’swounded, and that makes everything worse.
My mouth opens, but nothing sensible comes out. I stumble over my own lie. “I wouldn’t say drunk. Maybe tipsy? A bit?”
His jaw tightens. “So that’s what this was?” he mutters. “You had to get shit-faced just to touch me?”
“Ka—”
But he shakes his head sharply, eyes burning with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “Unbelievable.” He turns and stomps away, the sound of his boots fading across the rooftop.
I stand there, breath catching in my throat. The candles flicker like they’re mocking me. And the night I’d planned so carefully in a desperate attempt to patch us back together, collapses in front of me like everything else.
I groan, pressing my hands to my face.
Well. That didn’t go well at all.
KADE
“You?” I hiss, turning on him. Liam just smiles like this is a fucking joke. “Jimmy didn’t say it was you.”
“Well,” he drawls, shrugging, “did you ask?”
“I wanted aprofessionalto follow her,” I snap. “Not you.”
He rolls his eyes and slides onto the bar stool beside me like he owns the place. “Iamgood at what I do.”
I nod to the barman for another double. I need it. It’s been days since I last properly saw my ol’ lady. Days of silence, nights on the office couch, hours of walking the floor wondering what the hell she’s hiding from me.
“Do you want the information I have or not?” Liam asks, smug as hell.
“Go on,” I mutter, downing half the whiskey.
He places a small packet on the bar. Then a crumpled receipt. “Found this in her bag.”
My stomach twists. “You went through her bag?” I snarl. “How the fuck did you manage that?”
“I told you,” he shrugs. “I’m good.”
I stare at the packet. An empty blister strip. Then the receipt. Dated a few weeks back.A day after her birthday.
