Our eyes meet. Lars gives me a curt nod—the universal male salute that means:
I know you’re as exhausted as I am, brother. Respect.
I nod back. I like them. They’re genuine. And Lucy is the only person here—besides Sloane—who doesn’t look at me like I’m either an alien or an ATM.
We move down the buffet line.
I dive straight for the bacon but load a plate with pastries for Sloane. She needs sugar—and judging by how much shedumped into her coffee, and how she inhaled her (and my) giant marshmallow last night… yeah. The woman loves sweets.
To confirm it, she adds an extra croissant to the plate and flashes me a mischievous little smile.
As we walk, we stumble onto a scene at the scrambled-eggs station worthy of popcorn.
The stars? Silas and Daisy.
The vet looks like a man who’s lost the will to live—but not the will to drink coffee. He’s leaning against the counter, eyes closed, beard untrimmed, gripping his mug like it’s the Holy Grail.
Daisy, meanwhile, is a tornado of energy. She’s wearing a shirt that’s definitely men’s, leggings, leg warmers, and she’s trying to convince Silas to eat a heart-shaped waffle.
“Come on, Si! You need sugar! You’re grumpy!”
“Daisy,” he growls without opening his eyes, “if you put that thing near my face again, I’ll bite you.”
“Promise?” she shoots back, smirking.
Silas cracks one eye open, looks at her, and barely manages not to smile.
Sloane snickers beside me.
“I think we should adopt them,” she murmurs. “They’re as disastrous as we are.”
“I like him,” I admit. “He looks like a man who understands the pain of dealing with a woman who never sits still.”
Sloane elbows me in the ribs.
We head for the tables. Lucy spots us instantly.
“Sloane! Over here!”
Sloane smiles—a real, relaxed smile—and we walk over.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says, settling beside the florist and biting into a slice of strawberry-cream tart.
Lars gives me another nod as he takes a massive bite of an apple.
I return it—and start demolishing my bacon.
Sloane
“Good morning, people! I hope you’re hungry, because I basically robbed the buffet!”
A tornado of joy and chaotic sunshine crashes into our table.
Daisy.
I’ve talked to her only once—when I went with Ivy to bring Leo to Silas—but she was instantly likable.
Behind her, Silas trudges forward like a man walking to the gallows. His beard is scruffy, his hair a disaster, and he’s balancing two overloaded trays with the hollow expression of someone quietly questioning every life decision he’s ever made.
