My heart stutters.
Silas grins when he sees me.
“Okay,” he says. “Before you panic?—”
“I’m already panicking,” I interrupt faintly.
Caleb steps forward, hands open. “We wanted to do something nice for you.”
Boone meets my eyes. “You deserve to be spoiled.”
I laugh once, breathless. “You didn’t have to?—”
“We know,” Silas says gently. “That’s why we did.”
I step closer, moving slowly, as if the room might vanish if I move too fast. There are boxes on the counter. Handwritten labels, fancy logos, the kind of food reserved for anniversaries and celebrations.
“You ordered in?” I ask, stunned.
Silas nods proudly. “Multiple places. There was a spreadsheet.”
“There was not,” I say.
“There absolutely was,” Caleb counters calmly.
Boone clears his throat. “Sit.”
The word isn’t an order. It’s an invitation.
I sit.
They serve me first. Of course they do. Plates set carefully in front of me like I’m precious instead of a woman who cried in a café. Wine poured. Candles adjusted. Flowers nudged into place.
I blink hard.
“This is… a lot.”
Silas smiles softly. “That’s the point.”
We eat. And it’s incredible. Rich pasta. Perfectly cooked protein. A dessert I don’t even pretend to identify, but tastes of silk and sugar and effort. I laugh more than I expect to. So do they. The tension eases. My shoulders drop inch by inch.
Halfway through dessert, Boone stands.
My pulse kicks up immediately.
He reaches under the sideboard and pulls out a box. Then another. Then another.
He sets them in front of me.
“I don’t know how to do this casually,” he says. “So I’m not going to try.”
Silas exhales beside him. Caleb straightens.
Boone gestures to the boxes. “These aren’t obligations. They’re… markers. Of intention.”
I open the first one with shaking fingers.
Inside is a simple necklace. Delicate. A small charm shaped like a mountain.
