“Fantastic,” Allegra muttered.
“Oh, it gets better. Well, worse, actually. The paparazzi were tailing them in Interlaken. Apparently, when you travel with three black SUVs and matching security, people notice.
“Fuck.”
“You could come home,” Clara suggested. “Or at least move cities. Zurich. Milan. Somewhere harder to triangulate.”
Allegra shook her head. “I can’t.”
There was a pause. “Why not?” Clara asked.
Because Nate existed, and she couldn’t let their last moment be that train wreck in the hotel lobby. She needed to change the ending. Or at least add a new scene.
“I’ll explain later,” Allegra said. She swallowed. “And thanks. For the tip-off.”
Clara studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “Be careful, Allie.”
“I will,” Allegra promised, even though they both knew it was a hopeful fiction at best.
The call ended. Silence rushed back in. Allegra stared at her phone, her thumb poised over the screen. She opened the message thread from Nate and typed.
Allegra: Hey. Sorry, just saw these.
Then, before she could chicken out:
Allegra: Coffee sounds good. I know a place. I’ll message the details.
Her thumb pressed send, and adrenaline flooded her veins. It was the rush that came with doing something reckless, like leaping off a cliff and only afterward wondering if there was water below. But it was too late now. The message was out there, floating in the digital void.
“Okay then.”
Step one: hydration. Step two: aspirin. Step three: find a bra that hadn’t been lost to the chaos of last night. The rest? She’d worry about it later.
***
Allegra spotted him first.
Nate was hunched over a round table inside the Ariana Museum of Ceramics café, his espresso sitting untouched, like he’d ordered it out of politeness and immediately forgotten it existed. The marble arches and soaring ceilings loomed overhead, making him look even more out of place. A cowboy who’d wandered into a royal ball and decided to stay.
The café itself was tucked into a mezzanine corner, hushed and shadowed, the kind of place where even sunlight seemed to behave. Allegra had chosen it deliberately. Forgiving for someone trying not to be seen. Forgiving of hangovers.
Naturally, Nate looked unfairly good, if worn around the edges. Rumpled hair. Open collar. Sleeves shoved up his forearms like he had no idea what that did to her. Her pulse fluttered, even as her brain ticked off the lobby fiasco.
She lingered by the railing for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the thigh-high hem of her cotton cami. The one she’d bought in a burst of practical optimism at Zara, as if a $49.99 dress could armor her against the kind of morning that followed a night like last night. She adjusted her sunglasses for the third time, the frames digging into her nose, and took a slow breath. Then she exhaled and made her way across the cafe, her sandals clicking against the marble.
Nate looked up the second she stepped into his line of sight, standing so quickly his chair scraped. “Hey. Ella.”
“Hey,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral.
They hovered there, caught in that excruciating limbo where neither of them knew the rules. Was this a hug moment? A cheek-kiss moment? A polite wave-from-a-safe-distance moment? They did a small, synchronized shuffle, rocking on their heels like they were both trying to remember how to move, before finally sitting down in unison.
Nate cleared his throat. “About last night—”
“No.” She lifted a hand, palm out. “I was tired. Fried. So let’s not.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then his shoulders dropped, visible relief loosening his posture. “Okay. It’s just—” He rubbed the top his head. “I meant what I said. About having some stuff going on. And about you being…” He hesitated and exhaled. “Incredible.”
Allegra gulped. She’d braced for smugness. For the glow of a man privately congratulating himself on moral fortitude. A subtle air ofI did the noble thing, you’re welcome.But he didn’t look pleased. He looked shaken. Like walking away had cost him something.
