Comfortable.
The kind of comfortable that takes time and history and maybe shared mornings.Or maybe whatever they have is open enough that her seeing him hold another woman’s hand isn’t a big deal.The thought tightens something low and sharp in my chest.
I force a smile, but it feels brittle.
“Give me a second, I just need to grab something,” Nate says, releasing my hand.
He disappears down the hallway, and Luiza busies herself with stacking plates, humming softly under her breath.She doesn’t look at me again, doesn’t clarify anything, doesn’t seem remotely bothered.
If anything, she seems fond.
Of him.
Of us.
Of whatever she thinks this is.
Nate reappears less than a minute later, rolling his sleeves up as he walks, hair slightly mussed like he ran a hand through it.
“Okay,” he says, breath a little uneven.“Ready?”
I nod, even though ready isn’t the word I’d choose.
The entire rideto the city centre, my thoughts are a tangled mess.When we finally get out of the car I ask, “are you going to tell me where are we going?”
“Do you trust me?”
I don’t even think before answering.
“Even when I don’t want to.”
The honesty hangs between us, startling us both.He glances at me, something shifting behind his eyes, but we’re already walking down narrow streets that pulse with nighttime life.
Friends spill out of tapas bars, laughter catching on the warm breeze.The scent of grilled seafood mixes with blooming jasmine, and the stones beneath our feet radiate the last of the day’s heat.
We stop in front of what looks like a small church, its façade worn smooth by centuries.
“We’re breaking into a church?At ten p.m.?”
"Chapel, actually.”He holds up a key.“And it's not breaking in when you have the key."
The heavy wooden door swings open to reveal something that steals my breath.The entire space glows with candlelight, hundreds of candles placed with careful intention throughout what was once a sanctuary.
Art covers every available surface: paintings that seem to move in the flickering light, sculptures that cast dancing shadows, installations that transform the sacred space into something entirely new yet somehow still holy.
"The chapel burned down about eight years ago," Nate explains, his voice hushed in the reverent way people speak in spaces that demand respect.
"It sat empty for years until the community decided to rebuild it as a shelter for women and children.Now it's a gallery.Local artists exhibit here, and all the proceeds go back into community programs."
I turn slowly, taking in the transformation.
"It's incredible."
"The current exhibition is by a friend of mine, Valentina.She gave me the keys for tonight."He moves through the space with familiarity, pointing out pieces that speak to him.
"The whole show is inspired by the sky—day and night, the way light changes everything it touches.She says the sky is the same everywhere, but we all see it differently depending on where we're standing."
"So Valentina is..."I start, then trail off, not sure how to finish the question without revealing the jealousy that's been growing like a vine through my chest all evening.
