My stomach twists, equal parts anger and something dangerously close to relief.
I wait until the last person drifts away, until the space feels hollow and quiet again. I turn to Courtney. “Can you take Mum and Jordan home?”
She searches my face, hesitation flickering in her eyes, but she nods. “Call me.” I nod, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
When they’re gone, I walk toward the car.
The window rolls down further. Warren watches me approach, his expression unreadable.
He removes his dark glasses. “I’d ask how you are,” he says quietly, “but I think I already know.”
“I got your text,” I mutter. “I thought my silence was pretty clear.”
“I just wanted to be here for you, Lee.”
“I didn’t tell you the date,” I say. “How did you find out?”
“Get in the car,” he replies gently. “Let’s talk.”
I shake my head. “You always do that. Avoid the question by being bossy.”
“Five minutes,” he says. “That’s all. I’ll have you dropped straight home.”
I hesitate. I shouldn’t do this. I know that. But my chest is too tight, my grief too raw to fight him properly. With a frustrated sigh, I slide into the back seat. Anthony nods politely before raising the partition, sealing us into silence.
Warren turns toward me slowly, his gaze sweeping over my face cataloguing damage, every shadow, every crack that wasn’t there the last time he saw me at four in the morning, a week ago.
“You sorted things with your family,” he says.
“Is this really how you want to waste your five minutes?” I snap.
“What happened in Italy was—”
“A massive fuck-up,” I cut in.
He nods once. “Yes. And I regret it.” His voice softens. “But I miss you, Leoni.” The words knock the breath from my lungs. “It’s not the right time,” he continues quietly. “I know that. So I’ll give you the space you need. But we’re not over.”
“We’re from different worlds,” I whisper.
He shifts closer, closing the distance until his knees brush mine. His hands cup my face, firm but careful, forcing me to look at him.
“No,” he murmurs. “Same world. Different upbringings.”
“You could have anyone,” I say weakly, trying to pull away. “Anyone.”
He doesn’t let me go. “I don’t want anyone but you.” His forehead rests against mine. “I’ve got things to fix. Things to finish. But I’m coming for you, Lee. And when I do, I need you to be ready.”
His mouth meets mine in a slow, grounding kiss, not desperate, not rushed, just steady. Like a promise he has no intention of breaking.
He pulls back first and taps on the glass.
Anthony lowers the partition. “Where to, Leoni?”
“My mum’s,” I say.
The drive is silent.
But Warren keeps my hand in his, his thumb tracing slow, careful circles over my skin, reminding me he’s still here. And maybe, despite everything, that’s what finally makes me cry.
