I nod my head, a strange sense of relief washing over me. "I can handle that. I will pick you up at seven."
The restaurant is located in a part of the city I usually avoid after sunset. It is a crowded, narrow space filled with the scent of heavy spices and the loud, overlapping sounds of traditional music and shouting voices. There are no white tablecloths and certainly no reservations. We are seated across from each other at a long communal table, our knees occasionally brushing in the narrow space under the wood. I feel the urge to call a manager and demand a private booth, but I catch the look of genuine joy on Zora’s face and hold my tongue.
She looks comfortable here, her light-brown skin glowing under the warm amber lights of the dining room. She has her hair styled in two loose braids, and she is wearing a vibrant green knit dress that hugs her curves in a way that makes my mouth dry. She looks like she belongs in this beautiful noise, while I feel like a suit-clad intruder from another world.
Zora looks at me and smiles, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "You look like you are waiting for a safety inspection, Reid. Relax and try the coffee before it gets cold."
I pick up the small ceramic cup and take a sip, the dark liquid bitter and strong enough to wake the dead. "I am trying. I am not used to eating with twenty strangers in a room this small and loud."
A server places a large circular tray in the center of the table, covered in a flat, spongy bread and various piles of colorful stews. There aren’t any utensils. Zora tears off a piece of the bread and uses it to scoop up a portion of the spicy lentils. She holds it out to me, her fingers hovering near my mouth with an intimacy that makes my heart skip. "We eat with our hands here. It is about sharing the experience, not just the food."
I lean in and take the bite from her fingers, the spicy lentils hitting my tongue with an intensity that makes my eyes water. The flavors are complex and deep; a heat builds at the back of my throat and stays there while I try to maintain my composure. Ireach for my coffee and take a long sip to kill the burn, the strong brew doing nothing to cool the spice.
Zora watches me with a playful smirk as she prepares her own bite, her fingers moving with a practiced ease. "I have already looked at three different resumes for the lead nurse position. I want someone who has experience with residential care but also knows how to talk to kids who fear their own shadows."
I set the cup down and try to focus through the lingering heat. "That is a specific niche to fill. Most pediatric nurses are used to regular clinics, not long-term residential homes."
She nods and scoops up a pile of the soft, turmeric-seasoned cabbage with her bread. "Exactly. That is why I am looking at military medics who transitioned into nursing. They understand how to stay calm when the room gets loud. We need people who can create a home environment without making the kids feel like they are being processed like luggage. I was even thinking about the budget for the overnight staff and how we might need to adjust the..."
I reach over and place my hand over hers on the table, effectively stopping the motion of her fingers. "No business talk, Zora. You were the one who made that a condition for tonight, and I am holding you to it."
Zora blinks at me, her mouth parting in a small gasp before a sheepish grin spreads across her face. She turns her hand over and interlaces her fingers with mine, the warmth of her palm grounding me in the middle of the chaotic room. "You are right. I am terrible at turning my brain off lately. It feels like I have spent my whole life waiting for this project to happen and now I cannot think about anything else."
I squeeze her hand and lean a little closer to her across the tray, the scent of honey and vanilla rising from her skin to meet the spicy air of the restaurant. "I know the feeling. But eventhe Director of the Sunflower Center needs a break from the paperwork."
She looks down at the tray of food, her expression softening as she tears off another piece of the spongy bread. "The smell of these spices and the way we have to tear this bread with our hands reminds me of those late nights in the shelter kitchen. Do you remember when Micah found that stash of cinnamon rolls and we ate them all before the sun came up?"
I let out a low laugh, the memory hitting me with a sudden, vivid clarity. "I remember thinking we were going to be in so much trouble. You had icing all over your face and you kept trying to hide behind Dameon because he was the only one big enough to cover you even back then."
Zora lets out a melodic laugh that carries over the noise of the music. "I was terrified of Mrs. Thatcher. But you stood at the front of the line and told her you were the one who stole them. You took the heat for all of us and I remember thinking you were the bravest person I had ever met."
She grows quiet for a second, her thumb tracing the line of my knuckles as the laughter fades from her eyes. "Actually, that wasn't even the bravest thing. I still have nightmares about the fire at the home. I remember looking back at the second-story window after you pushed me out and seeing the roof collapse into the room."
I frown, the weight of that memory shifting the air between us. "You remember the roof giving way?"
Zora nods, her grip on my hand tightening. "The smoke was everywhere and the sound of the beams snapping was so loud it felt like the world was ending. I was on the ground looking up and I was sure you died in there trying to make sure I hit the grass safe. I spent a decade carrying that guilt around because I thought I was only alive because you gave up your life for mine."
I reach across the tray and cup her jaw, forcing her to look at me. "I didn't stay inside, Zo. I followed you out that window about five seconds after I pushed you. I landed in the bushes and spent a week in the hospital with a concussion and some bruised ribs, but I made it out."
Zora stares at me, her mouth dropping open as she processes the information. "You fell out after me? I never saw you hit the ground. I think I passed out the second the cold air hit my lungs and the adrenaline ran out."
She lets out a shaky, breathless laugh and wipes at the corner of her eye with her free hand. "I realize something in this moment. I don't think I ever actually thanked you for saving my life that night."
I lean forward until our foreheads are almost touching, the noise of the restaurant fading into a distant hum. "You don't ever have to thank me for that. I would do it again every single day if it meant you were safe."
She grows quiet for a moment; her gaze lingering on my eyes. "You have been doing that for sixteen years, Reid. You have been the one standing at the front of the line. I think that is why it was so hard for me to see you as anything other than a protector. I forgot that the boy who stole the cinnamon rolls was also the boy who used to tell me stories about the stars."
I feel a strange tightening in my chest, a mixture of pride and a lingering regret. I spent so much energy becoming the man who could provide everything she needed that I buried the boy who simply wanted to be with her.
I take a piece of the bread and scoop up some of the lamb, offering it across the table to her this time. "I still remember the way you used to hum when you were happy. You would sit by the window in the common room and watch the cars go by, planning where we were going to go when we finally got out."
Zora takes the bite, her eyes never leaving mine. She swallows. "I always knew we would end up somewhere like this. I didn't realize it would take us this long to sit at the table as equals."
When we leave the restaurant an hour later, I lead her to the car and hold the door open for her. I have already booked a suite at a high-end hotel downtown, a neutral territory where we can talk without the ghosts of our past interfering.
The hotel lobby is a hushed expanse of polished stone and the scent of expensive lilies as I lead Zora toward the elevators. My hand rests at the small of her back, but I don't feel the same wall of resistance that has been there for months. The silence between us has shifted from the suffocating weight of the last six months into something electric and expectant. When the doors slide open, I lead her to the room and feel the heavy thud of my heart against my ribs.
I swipe the key card and let us into the suite. The room is a vast space of neutral tones and floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the flickering lights of the city. The air in here is cool, but the honey and vanilla of Zora’s scent already thickens in the small sitting area outside the bedroom.
