The Morning After
April
The kitchen was full. Not full like a party. Full like a Wednesday morning when eight men had collectively decided work could wait.
They were around the table, some sitting, some leaning against counters, dressed in various states of morning casual that suggested they'd been awake for a while. Killian in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Arthur looking like he'd already been to the gym. Jax in yesterday's clothes, rumpled and caffeine-dependent.
The table was covered with food: eggs, pastries, fruit, and coffee that smelled imported.
They were talking.
Like this was normal.
"I'm just saying, if we're doing this we need a system," Jax was saying. "Shared calendar. Color-coded."
"You want to color-code a relationship?" Liam asked.
"I want to color-code my life. The relationship is just part of it."
"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Caleb said.
Jiro sat quietly, watching them with what might have been amusement. Don Dante had a tiny espresso cup that looked like a prop in his hands.
Arthur saw her first.
"Morning," he said, and the whole room went quiet.
They all turned to look at her, and the room settled.
"Sit," Killian said, gesturing to an empty chair that was very clearly meant for her.
April sat, because her brain had not yet returned from its unscheduled shutdown and her body was operating on autopilot.
Killian's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, silenced it, and set it face-down without a word.
Mateo moved to the coffee without being asked, and within seconds a mug appeared in front of her at the exact right temperature, cream already folded in like he'd memorized her preferences overnight.
"April, before this goes any further... we need to talk," Killian said.
Here it was. The letdown. The "last night was fun, but obviously this can't continue" speech.
The part where they explained this was temporary and they all had lives to get back to.
"Okay.”
Killian produced a leather folder and set it on the table with the weight of a final report.
"We had it notarized," Arthur said.
April's brain, which had been attempting to come back online, immediately crashed again.
"How did you get a notary at dawn on a Wednesday?" she asked, because that was apparently the first coherent thought her mouth could produce.
Don Dante took a sip of his espresso. "He owed me a favor."
Silence.
Killian cleared his throat. "We didn't ask what kind of favor."
