I grin at that, despite everything. “Maybe a little. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not playing.”
Her eyes search mine for a moment, and then she relaxes, the tension easing from her shoulders. I lean in and press my lips to hers, soft and deliberate. “Just wanted to say thank you. That’s all.”
Her breath brushes against my cheek when she whispers, “You’re welcome.”
We stay like that for a while, not talking, not needing to. The quiet between us feels easy again, like the weight of last night has finally lifted.
Later, we eat breakfast on the terrace—coffee, eggs, toast. Ordinary. Easy. The kind of morning that sneaks up and makes you wish for more of them. She sits with her hair loose around her shoulders, the sunlight catching strands of gold. It feels…normal. Like we’ve been doing this for years.
Afterward, I hit the shower while she lingers outside, finishing her coffee. The sound of her laughter drifts in through the open doors, soft and low, and it hits me—how good this feels. How dangerous that is.
When I’m done, we trade places. She disappears into the steam while I check in with Manon and Anton about last night’s service at both restaurants. A few quick updates, a couple of texts, and it’s done.
I glance toward the terrace again, where two empty mugs sit side by side. It’s still early, the day full of promise, and for once, work doesn’t feel urgent.
What I really want is to spend the rest of the day with Bas and Alec with her beside me. To hold on to this quiet before the world demands its pound of flesh again.
Her phone buzzes on the terrace table, and I start toward it, intending to bring it inside, but the screen lights up before I can stop myself.
Pete:Dinner next Friday when I’m back from Florida? You and me, 7? We could go to one of our favorites? Padano?
The words hit harder than I expect.You and me.One of our favorites.
My stomach knots. I stare at the message, thumb hovering. It’d be so easy to swipe, to see the rest. But I don’t. I won’t. I shove the phone into my back pocket before the jealousy turns into something uglier.
“Ready?” When she comes out, purse in hand, smiling like nothing is wrong, I have to gather my wits before I’m able to utter a single word. I speak.
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Let me grab my keys.”
I turn to the counter, then double back, pulling her phone from my pocket before I do something stupid. “You left this outside.”
“Thanks.” Grabbing it, Olivia glances down at the screen and swipes.
Her expression remains neutral and I don’t want to see anymore. I already know and turn away, pretending to check the lock on the front door. My chest feels tight, heavier than it should.
Pete. Her ex. The father of her kids. He’ll always have a place in her life. I get that. But the wordsyou and meshouldn’t sting the way they do. Dinner isn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be.
Butone of our favorites?
That’s personal.
That’s history.
And for the first time, I’m not sure I know where I stand in hers.
21
OLIVIA
Rapt by the sight before me, I stop in the doorway, completely gawking. Two men—equally striking, equally magnetic—stand side by side at the stove, mid-conversation. Bas and Alec. Their silver hair gleams under the kitchen light, their voices rich and animated as they talk, hands flying in the air for emphasis.
Every few seconds, one reaches out to touch the other. A hand at the waist, a brush of fingers along an arm, a light squeeze at the shoulder. It’s not for show. It’s instinctual. Natural.
Love radiates from them. Real, enduring, unapologetic love.
I never thought of myself as the kind of person who’d stare at another couple like a voyeur, but Jesus, as the heat rises to my cheeks, I’m tempted to grab a glass of wine and a seat. There’s something mesmerizing about them. How they move in sync, the easy intimacy, the quiet devotion threaded through every glance.
It makes you yearn for what they have, not in a jealous way, but in that deep, aching way that reminds you every person deserves to be seen like that. Loved like that.
