The eggs taste perfect, but I push them around the plate anyway, my fork drawing lines through the scramble while my mind runs an inventory of last night’s shift. “The card readerat station two glitched again around midnight. I reset it, but we need a replacement unit before the weekend rush. And the ice machine in the back is making that grinding noise again. I tightened the housing, but if the compressor’s going—”
Lorenzo sets down his coffee. “Jesus. Is it always work with you?”
I shrug. “Then what else is there?”
The question leaves my mouth before I can think better of it. Lorenzo’s amusement fades into something softer as he rounds the counter and stands in front of me, close enough that I can taste rain and honey on his skin.
“Gorgeous,youare here.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love that you throw yourself into the work, that it fills whatever hole you’ve been carrying. But Oliver and I don’t need you to fix every broken thing in that building. We just want you here. At this counter. Eating eggs.”
My fork stills against the plate. For a moment the eggs blur before I blink them back into focus. Lorenzo’s hand finds the side of my face, his thumb tracing my jawline just like last night when he told me to breathe.
He hesitates, waiting for a small nod from me before leaning down and pressing his mouth to mine, my hand moving to rest against his chest, and I kiss him back with the part of myself that’s slowly, terrifyingly accepting that this might be real.
Lorenzo pulls back, dragging his lower lip across mine. “I’ve got some calls to make. I tried Nicholas Cavallero a few times but everything’s gone to voicemail. I sent a couple of emails too. No response yet.”
“Maybe he’s busy.”
“Maybe.” Lorenzo clears our plates, then disappears into the bedroom. He reemerges wearing a blush pink suit that makes my breath catch, tailored so precisely it seems sewn onto hisskin. There’s no shirt under the jacket, just the gold chain resting against dark skin.
He catches me staring. “What?”
I shake myself. “Nothing.”Everything. He looks like something out of a painting in a museum I can’t afford. “Go make your calls.”
Lorenzo crosses back to me and cups my jaw, tilting my face up. He hovers there, lips an inch from mine. “Is this okay?”He always asks. Sebastian never asked. Sebastian only took, because taking was the only language he spoke.
“Yeah.”
Lorenzo kisses me again, leaving behind the taste of coffee before the apartment door clicks shut. Alone in the kitchen with just my thoughts, my attention drifts to my phone resting on the counter.
When I flip it over and scroll through the contacts, the names feel like artifacts from another lifetime. Former colleagues from Hearthstone I should have deleted months ago mingle with numbers I barely recognize.
Among them sits one entry saved under a single name, untouched since before the bite mark on my neck healed completely. Though the number matches the one the listing we found a few days ago, this contact belongs to years past, to whispered conversations through Sebastian's apartment walls during those precious thirty minutes when Sebastian religiously attended the gym and believed I was cleaning.
My thumb hovers over the screen, the apartment suddenly feeling too quiet and too empty. Without allowing myself another moment to reconsider, I press the screen and listen to the call connect.
Nicholas picks up on the first ring. "Wilson?" His voice rushes through the line, a warmth to his tone that I suddenly realize how much I’ve missed. "Hey. Hi. Will."
I press the phone closer to my ear. "Hey."
"I'm—sorry, I just didn't expect—I mean I was hoping you'd—" He takes an audible breath that trembles slightly. "How are you?"
"I'm okay." My chest tightens at the memories his voice is bringing up as I consider how much of the truth I want to give. "Nicholas, I need to ask you something and I want to do it in person. Can we meet?"
"Yes." The word tumbles from him instantly. "Absolutely. When? Today? I can do today. I can do right now if you want. I mean, I have a meeting at two but I can move it. I'll move it."
My chest tightens further as the eagerness in his voice fully hits me. The Alpha speaks exactly as he used to, sentences colliding into each other, words spilling out faster than he can arrange them properly. "Today works. The café on Fifth and Maple? Noon?"
"I know the one. The place with the cinnamon rolls." His voice warms with recognition.
"Yeah."
"I'll be there. I'll be there early. Wilson, I—" Silence fills the line for several seconds. When he continues, his voice drops lower, intimate against my ear. "I'm glad you called."
Heat rises unexpectedly to my face. "Me too."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
My fingers tighten around the phone as I force my voice to stay steady. "I'll explain everything when I see you."
