“Yeah. The bed’s still the same, which means I have a kink in my neck,” I teased and smiled.
He gave a small huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Good on sleeping okay. Shitty about the worn mattress.”
I nodded, watching him over the rim of my mug. In the morning light, the silver in his dark hair caught and seemed to glow for a split second. The lines around his eyes were deeper, but they didn’t make him look older as much as… experienced. His T-shirt clung to the hard planes of his chest when he leaned forward to reach for the salt. I caught myself staring at the waythe cotton outlined every ridge of muscle and quickly dropped my gaze to my plate.
“So,” he said, setting his fork down. “About the divorce.”
The last word landed like a stone in still water. I looked up and held my breath.
He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging under his sleeves. “You've probably heard bits and pieces from your mom. Figured I should give you the short version from my side.”
I nodded slowly. “She said you two… drifted. No big, blowout fights. Just grew apart.”
“That’s the simple version but not the whole truth.” He exhaled. “Truth is, we stopped talking. Stopped touching. Stopped everything except sharing the same address. It was like that for over a year. I threw myself into work, and she found someone else. When I found out, it wasn’t even a shock. It just confirmed what I already knew.”
Bitterness edged his tone, but unmistakable. Not loud anger, just the low burn of something that had been smoldering for years.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know about the affair.”
“Don’t be.” He met my eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It’s just how life is sometimes. People change and love between them ends.”
I swallowed. “Do you hate her?”
A pause. “No, not anymore. I did for a while right after I found out about the affair. Now? I’m just… done and have moved on. The house is paid off, the company’s solid, and I’ve got my health. That’s more than a lot of guys get after twenty years of marriage, let alone five.”
“But it’s too hard to stay here?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I want something smaller and more manageable, and I’d like to own some property that I can grow old on.”
Five years. That’s all it had been between them. He’d married Mom right as I turned eighteen, right as I was packing to leave. We’d lived under the same roof for less than twelve months before I went to college. Barely enough time to form habits. Barely enough time for anything real.
And yet, here we were.
I watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed his coffee, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, and the steady rise and fall of his chest under that damn T-shirt. Heat crawled up my neck. I forced my gaze back to my plate.
But he caught it, and when I looked at him under my lashes, a slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The air between us thickened, and my pulse kicked hard against my throat.
He leaned forward slightly. “Grew up real pretty, Lila. Real pretty.”
The compliment landed low in my belly, taboo and hot. I tried to laugh it off. “Flattery from the man who threatened my prom date with a hammer if he brought me home late?”
“Didn’t threaten,” he said, smirk deepening. “Just made sure he understood the rules.”
“Rules,” I echoed. “Like family rules?”
“Something like that.” His eyes darkened. “Families have a lot of secrets, don’t they? Things we never say out loud.”
My breath caught. The words hung there, loaded, dangerous, and laced with every taboo thing I’d pretended didn’t exist back then.
I swallowed. “Like what?”
He studied me for a long beat then shrugged one shoulder, casual in a way that felt anything but. “Like how some lines areonly lines because we drew them. And how easy it is to erase them when no one’s watching.”
The kitchen suddenly felt too small. Too warm. I should’ve changed the subject. Should’ve laughed, stood up, and walked away.
Instead, I held his gaze. “And if someone wanted to erase them?”
