She sits.
I do not watch her bend at the waist. I do not watch the shirt shift. I do not imagine what her skin would feel like under my palms.
I am not that man.
I am not.
I sit across from her and immediately regret it because now she’s right there, close enough that I can see the tiny water droplets still clinging near her hairline.
Her eyes drop to the plate like she doesn’t trust it to be real.
“This is…” She looks up again, and there’s something in her face that makes my chest tighten. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It’s food,” I say, like that settles it. “You paid for a weekend here. Food included.”
She gives a small, surprised huff of laughter. “Okay. But it’s… nice.”
The word nice lands differently coming from her.
I nod once, then cut into my steak.
The first bite should be satisfying.
It tastes like effort.
Like restraint.
Nova takes a bite too, chews, and her eyes close for half a second like her body is so relieved it doesn’t know what to do with itself.
When she opens them, she looks embarrassed for reacting.
My chest tightens again.
“What,” I ask, even though I already know.
“It’s just… really good,” she says.
She stops.
Her fork hovers.
I don’t push.
I take a bite and let the silence fill in the space between us because she needs it. I can tell. She needs control over what she says and when she says it.
Nugget’s nails click across the floor, and he trots into the kitchen like he’s expecting his cut.
He sits beside Nova’s chair and looks up at her with shameless confidence.
Nova’s mouth twitches. “He’s so cute.”
“He’s a thief,” I mutter.
Nugget barks like he agrees.
Nova’s laugh is small but real.
“Does he always…” She gestures vaguely. “Stare like that?”
