I’d tried to tell her.Tried to tell her that there was no going back after that.
That once we crossed that line, it was done.
No undoing it.
No pretending it didn’t mean something.
But she’d said no, not there.
What the hell did that even mean?
I clenched my jaw.Did she regret it?Did she not feel it the same way I did?
My eyes shifted down the street again.That’s when I saw him.
Same guy.
Third time I’d clocked him.
Mid-thirties maybe.Baseball cap.Hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t know where to put them.
He walked past the building again, slower this time.
Like he was looking for something, or someone.
My body went still.
I took one last drag, then crushed the cigarette out against the tray on the sill and filed him away in my memory.Not a threat yet, but not nothing either.
“Dinner.”
Her voice pulled me out of it.
I glanced back once more, committing the guy’s face to memory, then pushed off the window and headed into the kitchen.
And damn, the smell hit me first.
Rich.Warm.Comforting in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Britta stood at the counter, two plates already set up.Spaghetti.Garlic bread.
Simple, but it hit me harder than it should’ve.
“Damn, sugar,” I said, stepping in.“You made this?Hell of a lot better than what I’ve been making.”
She laughed softly, handing me a fork.“It’s just jar sauce and boiled noodles, Swift.”
Maybe, but it wasn’t about that.
It was about her doing something for me.
I looked at her then, really looked, and I saw it.That tension and uncertainty.
And I was done with it.
“We gotta talk, sugar.”
Her shoulders stiffened.“No, it’s okay, Swift.”
