Someone knocked softly at the kitchen doorway, and I turned to see Braxton standing there.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
He looked tired, cheeks still flushed, hair slightly messy. He hesitated like someone approaching a line he didn’t know how to cross. “Are you busy?”
“We’re just finishing desert service then there is the clean up,” I replied.
He swallowed. “Can you spare a moment now or should I come back to talk with you later?”
Later.
The word settled between us like a promise that might never be kept.
“Now,” I decided.
His gaze searched my face for something and I wasn’t sure what he expected from me.
Chapter Twenty-Five: What He Chose
Braxton
The kitchen had reached that point where everything important had already happened.
Dirty plates were stacked neatly, waiting for their turn in the dishwasher. Molly and Erin moved through plating the last of the desserts with the quiet efficiency of people who were experienced and trusted. Jane stood at the counter by the sink with both hands braced against it, watching them like she was making sure nothing slipped after the fact.
She looked smaller than she had earlier. Not diminished but tired in a way that came from holding responsibility too tightly for too long.
I stopped in the doorway and waited.
It felt important not to rush this. I had rushed too many things already today, all of them with good intentions and poor execution.
Jane sensed me before she turned. She always did. Something in her shifted, shoulders tightening just slightly, as if she were bracing herself before she looked.
I knocked on the frame of the door.
When she met my eyes, her expression was careful. Neutral. The kind of face you wore when you were prepared to be polite but not vulnerable.
“Are you busy?” I questioned, even though I knew she was.
“We’re just finishing desert service then there is the clean up,” she replied.
I should probably wait but waiting felt like the conversation so desperately needed might not happen. I could admit to myself that I was worried Jane might try to avoid me. I swallowed. “Can you spare a moment now or should I come back to talk with you later?”
Her gaze flicked briefly to the counter, to the clock, to the movement behind her. She was calculating if she could get away or not. Jane always accounted for the needs of the room before her own.
“Now,” she decided.
It surprised me a little although I was grateful she wanted to talk right away.
The dining room noise carried faintly down the hall behind me with laughter and music. Someone clinked a glass for attention. The wedding was well underway, and this conversation did not belong inside it.
“The library is quiet right now,” I suggested.
Jane hesitated, then nodded once. “Okay.”
We walked there without touching, side by side, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off her arm. The lack of contact felt intentional, like we were both afraid that if one of us reached out too soon, the conversation would tilt in a direction neither of us was ready to manage.
I let Jane go into the library door first before closing it behind us with a sound that was soft but final. I wasn’t leaving until Jane and I understood each other.
