“Soon.” Reluctantly, I take my seat beside Sam, offering the Thibaults a brief, polite nod—the kind of greeting that sayslet’s not pretend we like each other.“Good to see you both.” I turn back to Bas. “So tell me, what are you doing out instead of resting at home where you belong?”
He grins, unbothered. “Sam took me to an appointment this afternoon. And on the way back, he mentioned he was meeting these two.” He tips his chin toward the Thibaults, mischief lighting his pale eyes. “So naturally, I insisted on joining. I couldn’t let him face them alone.”
The grin I give him is equal parts affection and gratitude. “You’re a troublemaker, you know that?”
“Oui. But the best kind.”
I catch Sam’s quiet smile as he watches the two of us, his expression softening in his way that makes my chest ache. This—Bas laughing, Sam relaxed beside me—is everything I want to hold on to.
And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all. Knowing that moments like this are numbered.
Once I finish my drink, Bas starts his performance—loud sighs, muttered grumbles, and an exaggerated frown that leaves little doubt he’s ready to go. His fatigue is written in the slope of his shoulders and the dullness creeping into his bright eyes.
Bas puffs out his chest in mock authority. “Samson, Olivia’s taking me home.”
Sam immediately protests, his hand tightening around mine as if holding me there could make time stand still.
But Bas waves him off with a regal flick of the wrist. “Don’t be long. You know where to find her.”
The finality in his tone makes me smile, even as it squeezes something tender inside me.
Sam’s displeasure is palpable—the small furrow between his brows, the heat in his gaze as he leans in for a goodbye that’s brief but charged. His lips brush mine, soft yet possessive, and I can taste the protest he doesn’t voice.
I don’t want to leave either, but I’m glad for the excuse. The air at that table has grown thick with polite tension and too many unspoken things. He knows it too.
“I’ll be quick.” His presses his lips against my temple.
Still we both know if Daniel Thibault has his way, Sam won’t be leaving anytime soon.
27
OLIVIA
When we arrive at their home, Alec’s surprise melts instantly into joy. He abandons the mess of blueprints spread across his desk without a second thought, crossing the room to gather Bas into his arms. The sight of the two of them—love imprinted in every line and gesture—hits me straight in the chest.
I hover, feeling like an intruder on something sacred.
“I’ll just freshen up.” I head toward the washroom to give them space.
On my way, I glance back and catch Alec’s face over Bas’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips pressed to his husband’s temple, grief and devotion warring behind his expression. It’s heartbreaking. He’s already mourning, even while the man he loves is still here.
Once done and still eager to give them time alone, I drift by them into the kitchen.
From the living room, Bas’s voice rings out, booming with mock impatience. “Ma chérie,come here.”
I laugh softly and take my time in the kitchen, fussing with glasses and ice, pretending I’m busy so they can have anotherminute together. But Alec’s head soon pops around the doorway, eyes warm with amusement.
“Olivia, come.” Alec holds out a hand for me and, with the other, picks up one of the drinks I just poured. “His Majesty grows restless. And you know, what he wants, he gets.” He winks, leading me back to the living room.
Bas lounges on the couch, one hand dramatically pressed to his heart. “Our boy was being an idiot tonight. Instead of leaving with his love, he stayed to listen to that blowhard, Daniel Thibault.”
Alec chuckles, shaking his head. “Bas,ease up.You know you can’t stand Thibault, but Sam’s got a lot riding on this restaurant. He’s doing what he thinks he has to.”
“Bah.” Bas waves him off. “There’s always a choice. He just hasn’t learned yet that love is the only one that matters.”
His words hang in the air, soft and heavy, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s speaking to Alec, to Sam, or to both of us.
At their insistence, I sit between them, cocooned by their presence, my head turning from one to the other as they trade stories about Sam. It’s effortless, the way their love for him fills the room—teasing and fond, every word stitched with pride.
