I smile. "It sounds perfect."
I sit beside them and take the mug Nora hands me. Gabe takes his next. The chocolate is still warm. The sight of Jace's sticky mouth untangles whatever tension was left in me. Normally, this would be the part where the night ends. Clean up. Pay Nora. Put Jace to bed. Pretend the world outside this house doesn't exist.
But tonight, my mind won't settle.
I keep replaying the dinner. The laughter. The moment Tom's face drained. The look Gabe gave me across the table when everything fell into place. Something is shifting under my feet,something steady and strong. I sip the cocoa to hide the flush creeping up my neck.
Nora glances at the clock. "Do you need anything else before I head out?"
"No, thank you." I reach for my purse. "Let me grab your payment."
After I've paid Nora and Jace has kissed her goodnight, Gabe reads him a bedtime story and puts him to bed. He then comes down to the living room. We make another round of hot chocolate, spiked this time, and sit on the couch, drinking it. The bell rings.
I stand, wiping my hands on a dish towel, and cross to the door. I'm still thinking it might be a delivery or a neighbor when I unlock it and pull it open.
My father stands on the porch.
I freeze.
His gaze flicks over my shoulder, into the house, and lands on the person sitting on my couch.
Gabe, with the mug of hot chocolate in his hand. My father blinks once, slowly, like he's trying to make sense of the scene.
Then his eyes shift back to me.
"Lena," he says. "I came to talk."
He pauses and looks at Gabe again. His brows jump, then pull down hard, like his face can't decide which expression to settle on. "Gabe?" he asks, voice confused. "What are you doing here?"
25
LENA
For a moment, everything in me goes quiet.
My father keeps staring at Gabe like the picture in front of him refuses to organize into something logical. He looks at the mug in Gabe's hand, then at the blanket tossed on the couch, then at my socks. Then he stares at Gabe again. His confusion tightens into something ominous, visible in the way his eyebrows look like they're about to go all the way up to his hairline.
I grip the door’s edge. "Dad… come in."
He steps past me, slowly, his jaw tight enough that I can see the muscles jump. His gaze moves through the living room, taking inventory of things he thinks he understands and things he clearly doesn't.
Gabe sets his mug down on a coaster. He stands, calm, steady, shoulders squared in that quiet way he has when he's ready to defend but not escalate. "Evening," he says.
My father answers with a curt nod. He isn't rude. He's suspicious. There's a difference, and I know both very well.
"Lena," Dad says, turning back to me. "Can we talk privately?"
I take a breath. "No. Not this time."
His brows lift. He wasn't expecting that.
I walk past him and stand near the arm of the couch, grounding myself with one hand. I'm not hiding. I'm not shrinking. I'm not explaining away something that doesn't need explaining.
Dad looks between the two of us again. "Is there a reason he's here tonight?"
"Yes," I say. "Because I wanted him here."
My father's shoulders stiffen. He opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. "You brought him into your home? With your son asleep upstairs? After everything that's been said about you two?"
