“Adrianna,” he says, stepping closer, voice deep and wrecking me softly, “I know years have passed.I know we’ve both changed.But you are every bit the girl I knew.And as for whatever’s different,to me, it’s only gotten better.”
He moves another step, his voice dropping, earnest and unguarded.“And I can’t fucking wait to learn everything about you.”
Oh God.
My chest squeezes painfully.
“Nathan, God, why do you have to say things like that?”
“Because it’s true, Sparky.”
“Look, let’s just take it slow, okay?”I whisper.“I mean—we did this to get through the thing with that Russo guy coming after Bella.So let’s handle that first.”
“Ad, that’s not why?—”
“Nathan, please.”My voice cracks, humiliatingly, betraying me.“Look, I know you’re a good man.I do.And I think you might even believe you mean all this.But I-I just can’t go through it again.”
“Adrianna—”
I swallow hard, fighting the burn behind my eyes, and I shake my head.
“Please don’t.I don’t want you making promises right now.Not when we’re still under the spell of Vegas weddings and honeymoon nights, and adrenaline, and—just, just not yet.Okay?”
Silence falls between us.
Heavy.
Thick.
Hurting.
He looks wrecked.
Like I reached into his chest and twisted something vital.
Like I took something he was just about to offer me and smashed it before he could finish the sentence.
And seeing that expression on his face—on the boy I loved, the man I married, the man I still want more than I should—makes my heart crack right down the center.
But I can’t let myself believe any of this is permanent.
Not yet.
Not until the ground stops shifting under my feet.
He doesn’t argue.
And somehow, that breaks my heart—I meanthat it really fucking hurts—even more.
We walk toward the kitchen—yellow walls, white cabinets, everything smelling faintly of lemons and something warm, familiar.
My throat closes up the moment I step inside.
It’s beautiful.
Thoughtful.
Homey in a way I didn’t expect.
