She nodded, but her lips were tight. “It feels like him.”
“Yeah.” I brushed my fingers along her side. “I hate that you’re carrying the weight of it.”
She gave me a smile. “Maybe we should forget about Graham. Maybe I should pep talk you like you did for me.” Her eyes sparkled, and that was all it took.
“Come here,” I said again, softer this time.
She leaned in first—just a gentle kiss, warm and slow—but it deepened fast. Her fingers curled in my shirt, and my hand slid up her back, not to push, just to hold. Her breath was warm on my cheek, the close comfort of her presence making the rest of the world fall away. For a moment, nothing else seemed to matter—just the air between us and the promise in her eyes. I let myself get lost in it, in her, wanting to hold onto this fragile peace before reality crept back in.
The kiss turned hungry. Like something we both needed and didn’t want to let go of.
She made a small sound against my mouth, and I pulled her closer before catching myself. Her hand lingered for a moment longer on my shoulder, her thumb tracing an absent pattern through the fabric before she let go. The silence was heavy, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—just full, like the space between us was charged with everything unsaid. Time seemed to slow down, stretching those few seconds into something that felt almost infinite.
We pulled apart slowly. I didn’t want to let go, but something in the way she looked at me made my chest ache like she was pulling away.
Her voice was quiet. “I should go.” She stood up and paced a little, running a hand through her hair. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. You’re dealing with all of this, and I just—threw myself at you.
“Hey.” I stood too, catching her wrist gently before she could retreat. “You didn’t throw anything. That kiss?” I held her gaze. “It was the best part of my day.”
She looked up at me then, eyes too bright, like she was holding something back.
“Eliza…”
“I’m scared I’ll make things hard for you,” she said quickly, like she needed to get it out before I could stop her.
There it was. Not fear for herself—fear of being a burden. Of being the problem. I could see the walls going up, not out of self-preservation, but guilt. The kind that came from being made to feel responsible for other people’s discomfort for too long.
“You won’t,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice. “You make everything feel easier. I promise.”
She shook her head faintly, already reaching for her coffee like it was an exit strategy. “I’ll see you later, Nate.”
I nodded, even though every part of me wanted to ask her to stay. “I’ll walk you out.”
Outside, the air was sharp with a breezy chill, and I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets to keep from reaching for her again. I wished I’d said more. Wished I’d told her that if Graham was circling, if he was trying to make her doubt herself again, I wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time. Not when I could already see what she couldn’t yet—that she was strong, and capable, and still very muchherselfbeneath the old wounds.
The Taste-Off wasn’t just a competition. It was a chance. A way back into the kitchen on her own terms. A way to remember that her joy didn’t belong to Graham—or to anyone who’d ever tried to shrink it.
She turned at her car door. “Text me if anything changes with the fridge?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I will.”
She hesitated, fingers curling around the handle. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“Eliza…” I started, wanting to tell her all of it—that I wasn’t afraid of hard things, that I believed in her more than she knew, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
But she smiled, small and careful, and I let the moment rest where it was.
As she drove away, I stood there a second longer, resolve settling in my chest. Whatever Graham was playing at, I wasn’t backing down. And neither was she—whether she knew it yet or not.
Outside, the air was sharp with chill, and I wished I’d said more. Wished I’d told her how much I wanted her to stay, even if just for a few more minutes.
She turned at her car door. “Text me if anything changes with the fridge?”
“Yeah. I will.”
She hesitated. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“Eliza…” I started, but stopped short. Instead, I just smiled. “Um, thanks for the coffee.”
