Not a dive bar. Not some seedy back alley.
A goddamn neighborhood market with too-clean tiles and cartoon fruit painted on the windows.
She’s inside five minutes before I even convince myself to move.
Just inside, I spot her.
Picking out apples.
Smiling at the clerk.
Arguing with some guy.
Dark hair. Silver at the temples.
Too old for her.
Or maybe not.
The way she looks at him says otherwise.
She nudges him in the ribs with her elbow and sticks her tongue out.
He flicks her forehead.
She laughs.
Holds up two bags of shredded cheese, mozzarella and cheddar, and the guy shrugs.
She frowns like it’s a personal betrayal, then tosses both in the cart.
He kisses the top of her head.
Not a quick brush.
Not a friendly lean-in.
He kisses her.
Like he’s done it a hundred times before.
Like it’s his place to do it.
Who the fuck is this one?
She was eating with Orion and Callum less than an hour ago and the way they looked at her like they’d set the world on fire if she asked?
That was nothing.
And now this?
That’s three.
Three men.
And they all treat her like she’s theirs.
How many does she have?
