“Well, I’m starving,” Ava announces, standing. “Let’s hit the buffet before they run out of those amazing-looking mushroom skewers.”
The group rises in a chorus of scraping chairs. Even though I’m starving, too, I hang back, not wanting to get caught in the awkward dance of navigating the buffet line beside Slade. He seems to have the same idea, engaging Bryce in what appears to be an intense medical discussion as they move toward the food.
I follow at a safe distance, ending up behind Naya and Zara. The selection is impressive—a spread of vegetables, grains, and proteins, each with a small card detailing its origin. In any other circumstance, the care taken to create such a conscientious meal would fascinate me. Now, I’m just trying to load my plate without dropping it as my peripheral vision tracks Slade’s movements further down the line.
He reaches for a serving spoon, his surgeon’s fingers wrapping around it with the same precision they wrapped around parts of me earlier. I drop a roasted carrot, remembering the sensation of those fingers on my skin. When he glances up, I jerk my gaze away, focusing on the quinoa salad.
“The tempeh looks good,” Zara says, nudging me. “You should try some.”
“Thanks,” I manage, scooping some onto my plate.
When I reach the end of the buffet line, my plate is loaded with food I don’t remember selecting. I head toward the drinks station, needing something stronger than water to get through this dinner. The eco lodge’s bar offers a selection of organic wines and local craft beers. I opt for a beer—something substantial enough to occupy my hands and give me an excuse to avoid conversation if needed.
“Owen.”
Maia’s voice makes me tense. I turn to find her standing close to me.
“Hey,” I respond, trying to sound casual.
She glances around before taking my elbow and guiding me to a quiet corner of the deck, away from the others. “I wanted to check on you. You sounded…off when I knocked on your door earlier.”
“Just the hangover,” I say quickly.
Maia shakes her head. “No, it’s more than that. I know what’s really going on.”
My blood turns to ice. She knows about Slade and me. My mind races, trying to figure out how much she could have heard.
“It must be hard watching me move on with Jace.” Maia lowers her voice to a sympathetic murmur.
Relief floods through me so suddenly, I have to suppress a burst of hysterical laughter.
“Seeing us happy…it’s bringing up a lot of feelings you thought you’d processed,” she continues, placing a hand on my arm. Her touch, which once would have sent warmth through me, now feels like nothing compared to the fire Slade ignited. “I just want you to know that it’s okay to feel that way. Healing isn’t linear.”
The absurdity of the situation—standing here with my ex-girlfriend who thinks I’m pining for her while my body still tingles from another man’s touch—is too much to bear. If she only knew what I was doing when she knocked on that door…
“I appreciate your concern,” I say, maintaining a neutral expression. “But really, I’m fine.”
She tilts her head, giving me that look I remember well—the one that says she thinks she understands me better than I understand myself. “You don’t have to put on a brave face, Owen. Not with me.”
“I’m not. Honestly, Maia, seeing you happy with Jace is a good thing. I’m happy for you.”
She studies me for a moment, clearly not believing me. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it…”
“Thanks,” I say, seizing the opportunity to end this conversation. “We should get back before our food gets cold.”
As we return to the group, I notice the seating has shifted. Jace now sits in my previous spot, and the only empty chair is at the opposite end of the table from Slade. I slide into it, setting my plate and beer down.
The conversation flows around me—talk of the pottery class, plans for tomorrow, Ava and Bryce’s wedding. But my attention keeps straying to Slade. Unlike earlier in the day when his gaze sought mine, now he makes an effort not to look in my direction. When I speak, his eyes stay fixed on his plate or on whoever else is talking. The contrast to his intense focus in our room is jarring.
Did I do something wrong? Was this just a one-time thing for him—an experiment, a curiosity satisfied? The questions burn in my throat. I take a long pull of my beer, wishing it would drown the confusion roiling in my chest.
“So,” Ava says, clapping her hands together as the meal winds down. “I’ve got a fun surprise for tonight.”
“Please tell me it involves more alcohol,” Zara jokes, finishing her wine.
“It absolutely can,” Ava laughs. “The lodge has set up a scavenger hunt for us—an eco-themed one, of course. We’ll be searching for hidden objects on the property, solving clues about local ecology.”
“Sounds like good clean fun,” Jace says, his arm draped around Maia’s shoulders.
