CLAIRE BEAR: P.S. I’m letting Marco buy me coffee today. If this ends in vows and a home extension, you’re maid of honor.
BEYA SLAYA: I’ll coordinate your bouquet with the wall paint.
A crisp knock at the door startled Bea. She looked up from her textbook.
She opened it. And there he was. Not in a suit for once, in slacks and cashmere.
It had been a handful of days. A few clipped texts. She’d needed the space. Used it, even. Studied. Slept. Gotten her head clear.
Gage’s blue eyes caught hers. “Had dinner?”
She shook her head.
“Didn’t think so.”
He didn’t wait for permission. They weren’t broken. Just dented.
He headed straight for the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter like it was just another Thursday.
She closed the door slowly so she wouldn’t have to look at him right away.
He was already at the sink, sleeves rolled, calm as you please. Like she hadn’t snapped at him last week. Like he hadn’t deserved it, and taken it.
She padded to the stool, tugged her sleeves over her hands.
He peeled garlic, crushed it flat, and set it aside. The pan was heating while he seasoned the chicken with zest, thyme, and lemon juice.
He steam-fried the asparagus and broccolini in garlic and butter. It smelled divine. Once the greens were done, he set them aside, added oil. The pan hissed when the chicken hit.
By the time he returned the vegetables to finish, she was already salivating.
Once it was done, he plated for one. Just her.
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate earlier.”
“You came just to feed me?”
“Yes.”
She stared at the plate like it might blink first. He’d cooked for her before, but it was different this time. What was this? Damage control? Apology? Repentance?
He set the fork beside it. “Eat.”
Her stomach, miraculously, had the decency not to grumble. She reached for the fork as if she could just as easily take it or leave it, and started eating.
Gage sat next to her. Not touching or talking. Just there.
They’d never fought before. She wasn’t even sure what she’d expected, but hadn’t been bracing for succulent rosemary chicken and garlicky blistered vegetables.
Halfway through her plate, she paused. “You’re really not going to bring it up?”
“No.”
“You’re just…waiting?”
“I’m not waiting,” he said. “I’m here.”
