But something was underneath.
Something meant for her.
She held his gaze, smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “Guess we’ll see if your brunch game matches your brooding.”
Laughter stirred the room. Mugs clinked against marble; chairs scraped back with sleepy groans; the usual tightness around Gideon loosened slightly. One by one, the staff drifted toward the spread, plates in hand, voices rising with something close to ease.
Arden hung back,letting the others claim their seats and dive into the spread. She watched from the edge of the room, arms crossed and coffee in hand, as her team laughed over syrup-drenched pancakes and piled their plates high with buttery pastries and fruit so fresh it glistened.
A simple thing.
But from Gideon? It was a seismic shift.
He appeared at her side without a word, the soft tread of his shoes barely audible over the low murmur of conversation; hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the table with a quiet sort of focus. He didn’t speak right away, and neither did she.
Finally, he glanced her way. “Well?”
She looked over at him. “Well, what?”
His mouth twitched. “The food, Arden. The atmosphere. My… evolution into a halfway-decent human being.”
She arched a brow. “You want a Yelp review or a standing ovation?”
“I’ll settle for the truth.”
She studied him, coffee warming her hands, humor playing at the edge of her voice. “It’s nice. Unexpected. But… really nice.”
“They’re not used to seeing this side of me,” he said, almost to himself.
She tilted her head. “Neither are you.”
That earned her a quick look: one part amused, one part resigned. “Fair.”
He shifted, his stance loosening enough to betray the weight behind his words.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, quieter now. “About what you said… what this place could be. What I want it to be.”
That stopped her. Her amusement faded, something softer replacing it.
She hadn’t expected a follow-up, let alone reflection.
“I didn’t think you were actually listening,” she said, the words falling out before she could pull them back.
His gaze darted to hers.
"I always listen," he said—quiet, certain.
The rawness in his tone made her stomach tighten, not sharp, not heavy. Just real. And for a second, she had nothing to offer in return. No joke, no sidestep.
The silence stretched, but it didn’t press down on them. It settled between them, still and open. Something unfinished.
Then he straightened, slipping the moment back into his pocket like it hadn’t happened at all. “Enjoy the brunch, Rivers. You’ve earned it.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away. Somewhere behind him, a glass clinked or maybe a cork gave a soft pop—normal sounds returning like nothing had shifted at all.
Arden let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She watched him from across the room—how Marco’s mug clinked against the bar as Gideon refilled it; how Fatima’s laugh lifted into the room like smoke; how he leaned in to actually listen when someone spoke.
