No.
The further I let this go, the more it’ll hurt in the end.
I’m chopping some chives, tomatoes, and peppers to put next to the omelets, checking on them now and then and finding them looking at me every time. Both following my every move.
I don’t even realize that I’m smiling. Heat blooms in my chest.
I line the vegetables up by color and plate them with the omelets, sprinkle the chives on and push the plates toward Kiara and Adrien. Then I take mine and sit next to them on another barstool.
“Wow, did you ever think about putting down the gun and becoming a housewife?” Adrien mocks me and Kiara laughs.
“Don’t think it comes for free. You’re getting on your knees afterward, both of you,” I state.
Kiara snorts and Adrien gives me a light smack on the head, so I punch him back and Kiara bursts in laughter again.
I like this.
How does this house suddenly feel like home just because of one crappy breakfast?
We eat and joke around, Kiara is a little quiet, probably processing what happened this morning, but her face is covered with light pink blush and a wide smile that doesn’t come down for a second because Adrien keeps making an idiot of himself by trying to show her that he can balance a spoon on his nose.
Their laughter fills the kitchen, echoing off the marble.
I think this is how normal life feels like.
I want to make them breakfast at six in the evening, then watch a movie and cuddle Kiara to sleep, kick Adrien for trying to cuddle with us, then fall asleep next to them.
But I have a bad feeling that this is just another temporary thing, just to remind me what I can’t have and how fucked up my life is. I crush the thought before it grows into self-destructiveness.
I can have one day. I can pretend I’m normal for one day.
We finish the breakfast and head out of there, none of us sure where we’re going, until Adrien stops in the main living room.
He sprawls out on the leather sofa, grabs the TV remote and starts scrolling through streaming apps.
“I’m thinking Fight Club, what do you guys think?” he says without looking at us.
Kiara instantly lights up. She drops onto the sofa beside him, tucks her bare feet onto the table and giggles, the blue glow of the TV flickering across her face.
“I love that one!” she squeals, and Adrien gives her an approving smile. Before I can even process sitting down with them, she turns to me, catching me frozen halfway across the room.
“I’m not going back to my princess chambers,” Kiara announces, voice firm.
She pats the empty spot beside her, chin lifted.
“Sit. Down.” She tries to sound commanding, but the corner of her mouth gives her away.
I hesitate. Just a heartbeat, but I know exactly what’s happening. None of them wants this to end. And neither do I.
For almost the whole day, none of us said a word about work, Lucien, drugs, Vermilion—any of it. I don’t think they even thought about the shit we carry on our backs.
I know I didn’t.
We can stretch this day. Make it last. I don’t want it to end either.
A massive chandelier hanging from the high ceiling is casting a soft halo over them. Kiara’s dark hair catches warm brown highlights under it and the cloudy light spills through the tall windows. I drop onto the sofa next to her, spreading my arms along the headrest and letting my head fall back.
Her presence still makes me slightly nervous, something curling warm and unfamiliar in my chest. My spread legs brush against her thighs, and she’s got her feet up on the table, arms crossed over her chest.
