"I didn't bring you here to talk about him," Mateo said, setting the spoon down. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes serious. "Tell me about you, April. Not the revenge. Not the ring. Just... you."
"I..." She took a sip of wine, buying time. "Today has been... I'm actually kind of happy? Which feels insane to say."
Mateo nodded, encouraging.
"I never thought all these people would be interested in me. It doesn't make sense." She laughed, but it sounded shaky. " I feel like I’m not enough and too much at the same time."
She set the glass down, staring at the burgundy liquid like it held answers.
"I'm collecting men like loyalty punch cards, and I don't even know what the free item is supposed to be. Maybe it's me? Am I the free item? Is that… bad?" She shook her head.
"I'm going to try not to overthink it."
Mateo was silent for a long moment before he closed the distance in two measured steps, his hands came up to cradle her jaw as he leaned in, close enough that the room seemed to narrow around them.
“Be greedy,” he said looking into her eyes. “Take everything you want.”
His thumbs moved along her cheekbones, unhurried. “You think wanting makes you cheap?” His mouth brushed the corner of hers. “No.” He stayed there long enough that her breath faltered before he grazed her skin again.
“You don’t owe exclusivity to deserve care.” He didn’t look away when he said it. “I want you. Even if I’m not the only one.”
"If there are other men, I won't shame you. I won't punish you. Jealousy is for men with empty hands."
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering. "Just don't pretend you don't want me, too. Let yourself want. Let me be one of the ones who gets to hold you."
He stepped back, smiling slowly.
“Come here,” he said, releasing her face and returning to the stove. “I need you to taste this.”
April slid off the stool and went to him, steadier now than she had been all day. A small silver bowl waited on the counter. Mateo lifted a single wild strawberry from it, deep red and shining, and dipped it into the dark balsamic reduction before bringing it toward her mouth. He paused just short of her lips, long enough for her breath to give her away.
“Open for me.”
She did.
He fed it to her slowly, his thumb brushing the curve of her lower lip as her mouth closed around the fruit, sweet and slick with reduction. She barely kept the sound in.
“Tell me what you taste,” Mateo murmured, leaning in until his nose grazed hers.
“I—” She swallowed. “It’s perfect.”
“Good.”
His mouth found hers, tasting strawberry and balsamic from her lips as his hand slid into her hair. The kiss deepened and she answered it, matching him.
“Now,” he said, his hands settling at her waist, “let’s see what else you like.”
He lifted her with easy confidence and set her on the cool marble of the prep island. The cold shocked against her thighsand she sucked in a breath as he stepped between her knees, hands braced at her hips.
“It’s my turn to taste.”
He reached for a crystal bowl of champagne sorbet, pale gold and glittering. Instead of a spoon, he dragged his fingers through it and brought the cold sweetness to her mouth. The ice kissed her tongue.
Then he kissed her again, gathering the taste from her lips. The sorbet melted between them, cold dissolving into heat.
His palms slid down to her thighs and drew her forward until she reached the very edge of the counter. Her legs fell open automatically to make room for him.
The kitchen went quiet with the low hum of industrial refrigerators and April's own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
