We drove back to her apartment with the radio filling the silence between us. She hummed along to a song I didn’t recognize—something soft, with piano—and I filed that away. Another piece of her I’d need to learn. Or relearn. I wasn’t sure anymore which parts of her were new and which I’d just never noticed before.
At her door, she turned to me.
“Goodnight, Jacob.”
“Goodnight, Indira.”
As I drove home, her words played on repeat.The bare minimum.My knuckles went white on the steering wheel. She was right—ash and splinters didn’t erase betrayal.
But she’d said it mattered that I was trying. My grip loosened.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Chapter 21
?
— Indira —
The community hospital campaign was eating my life alive.
I’d been at my desk since seven this morning, and it was now past nine at night. My eyes burned from staring at market research data, my shoulders ached from hunching over my laptop, and I was pretty sure I’d forgotten to eat lunch again.
The campaign launch was in three days, and the client had just requested major changes to the messaging strategy. Changes that meant starting over on half the materials I’d already approved.
My phone buzzed with a text from Emma in Nashville:How’s life back in small-town Oregon? Missing the excitement of Music City yet?
I almost laughed. If only she knew that being back in Millfield was proving to be anything but boring.
The dinner with Jacob last week had been... unsettling. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made me question everything I thought I knew about the man I’d left behind. It had been our first real date since I’d moved back to Millfield—he’d taken me to my favorite restaurant, the upscale one with the garden view, and let me make every decision. What wine to order, what to talk about, whether I wanted to stay for dessert. He’d asked questions about my work, remembered that I hated onions and had my plate remade without making a big deal about it. At my door, he’d been a perfect gentleman, waiting for me to kisshim goodnight. He’d been attentive without being overbearing, interested without trying to fix my problems, respectful of boundaries I hadn’t even had to articulate.
It was confusing as hell.
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that the granola bar I’d eaten at three probably didn’t count as dinner. I was debating whether to order pizza or just go home and crash when I heard a knock at my office door.
“Leave it for today,” I called out, not looking up from my screen. The cleaner usually came by around this time to empty the bins and vacuum, but I wasn’t in the mood to move my feet or make small talk.
The door opened anyway, and I looked up to see Jacob. He filled the doorway in his leather jacket, a trace of cool night air clinging to him, takeout bags dangling from one hand. The warm smell of garlic and tomato sauce reached me before he did—food from the little Italian place that had the best chicken parmesan in town. My favorite comfort food when I was stressed.
“Wrong answer,” he said.
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“I know the night security guard. I may have mentioned I was bringing dinner to my hardworking wife.”
“I’m not your wife.”
“Fair point. Hardworking woman I’m trying to earn the right to call my wife.”
Despite my exhaustion, I smiled. “That’s better.”
He set the bags on my desk and started unpacking containers. “Chicken parm, garlic bread, that Caesar salad you like. And...” He pulled out a bottle of wine. “That Pinot Grigio you ordered at dinner last week. And water, in case you don’t want to drink.”
I stared at the spread he’d laid out. “You remembered all of this?”
“I pay attention.” He pulled a corkscrew from his jacket pocket. “Mind if I open this?”
I gestured for him to go ahead, still processing the fact that he’d noticed I was working late and decided to do something about it. I was trying to reconcile it with the Dutch who would have called and complained that I wasn’t available when he wanted to see me. And I would have stopped work and gone because time with Dutch was so precious.
