Shit, who am I kidding? It’s huge.
The walk from the restaurant to the construction site feels shorter than usual, the morning air sharp and clean after the overnight rain. My boots crunch over wet gravel as I approach the chain-link fence, the skeletal frame of the building rising ahead like a giant ribcage under the pale winter sky.
I’m nervous. Happy that Antonio has accepted his side of the deal, but worried that when it comes to Danny, it might all be a bit too much too soon. For a moment, I even consider turning around and heading back to the restaurant. Maybe it’s not a good idea to show up at the site like this? Maybe it could be better if I wait until Danny is done for the day.
“Get a grip,” I growl, my mind focusing and doing its best to clear the butterflies from my stomach and the inner doubts from my overstimulated brain. “Here goes…”
The crew is already in motion—forklifts beeping, men shouting coordinates, the rhythmic clang of steel on steel.
I spot Xander first, standing near the entrance with his clipboard, hard hat tipped back, watching the site like a general surveying a battlefield.
He sees me coming and breaks into a wide grin, raising a hand in greeting.
“Well, well. The chef returns,” Xander says, full of his usual charismatic swagger. “You here to collect your boy and steal him away from the crew for good?”
“Ha,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“That’s hardly a denial…” Xander retorts, his arms folded across his powerful chest.
His tone is teasing, but there’s a real question behind it—concern for Danny, for the balance of the team.
I shake my head, smiling. “Quite the contrary, Xander. I’m here to make sure he staysexactlywhere he belongs. With all of you. And with me too.”
“Now we’re talking,” Xander says.
Xander’s eyebrows lift, curiosity sparking.
Before he can ask more, Danny appears from around the side of the forklift, wiping his hands on a rag, high-vis jacket unzipped just enough to show the thermal underneath. He spots me and freezes mid-step, eyes widening. There’s a flicker of nerves there—uncertainty, maybe even fear that I’ve come to deliver bad news.
My chest tightens.
I hate that he’s braced for disappointment.
I know that I need to put my boy’s mind at ease as quickly as I can.
I stride forward, closing the distance, and stop just in front of him. The whole crew has gone quiet now, tools lowering, heads turning.
Mikey and Taylor lean against a beam, arms crossed, watching with barely contained grins. Taylor pretends to check something on his phone but keeps glancing over.
Even the crane operator has paused, engine idling.
“Danny,” I say, voice low enough for him alone at first, then louder so everyone can hear. “I’ve been thinking about us. About the future. About what happens when this job ends and you go back to the coast.”
Danny swallows, clutching the rag like it’s a lifeline. “Y-y-y-y-yeah?”
“I don’t want long distance,” I say. “I don’t want weekends apart, video calls, counting days until the next visit. I don’t want any of the bullshit that comes with that. It’s not us. I respect anyone who can make that work, but I know it’s not what either of us needs.” I take his hands in mine, feeling the calluses from heavy lifting, the faint tremor of nerves. “I wanteveryday.Everymorning.Everynight.”
His breath catches. “But… your restaurant? Your life here?”
“I’ve just spoken to Antonio,” I say, my voice full of a rising excitement. “He’s taking over. Full control, eventual ownership. He’s ready. And I’m ready to let go.” I pause, letting it sink in. “I’m moving to the coast. Starting fresh. I’ve always wanted a restaurant with a sea view, you know? Waves crashing outside, salt in the air, fresh catch every morning. I can do that. I will do that. But only if it’s what you want too.”
There, I said it.
Cards on the table.
It’s now or never for Danny and me…
Danny’s eyes are huge, shimmering. He looks around—sees the crew watching, waiting, all of them holding their breath.
