"You can use the gym," Maksim states.
"We're still on lockdown?" I try to tease, but anger flares in my tone.
"Best until we sort things out," he deadpans.
"Why don't we let them get dressed? Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes," Aspen interjects, giving me another warm smile.
"Sounds good." Maksim leaves with Aspen in tow. She shuts the door.
Red gets out of bed. "Let's go eat, Bluebird."
"I'm not really hungry," I argue.
He grins. "Too bad. You heard your aunt. Can't upset her in her own house."
I groan, stepping onto the floor. "You're enjoying someone else making me eat. Aren't you?"
"Nope," he says while nodding, then chuckling.
I roll my eyes and slide into clothes.
Red takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom, through the penthouse, and outside.
Sunlight spills across the balcony in slow, golden sheets, warming the stone beneath my bare feet and brushing my skin. The city stretches below in quiet obedience while the morning air hums soft and clean, almost gentle, as if the day itself doesn't know what almost happened last night.
Aspen already has the table set and filled with covered platters.
Maksim lifts each one, revealing warm croissants torn open and layered with butter and honey, soft scrambled eggs flecked with herbs, crisp bacon, and thin-sliced fruit arranged with deliberate care. Steam curls up from a small dish of roasted potatoes next to a metal coffee carafe.
I stare at the food longer than necessary, cataloging each item, reminding myself that this is what normal mornings are supposed to look like. This is what my life has never really had since Red is now next to me.
Aspen pulls out a chair beside me. "Sit," she says gently, like it's a suggestion even though we both know it isn't.
Red drops into his chair.
I follow, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug she's poured for me. The heat seeps into my palms, steady, anchoring. I take a sip and let the hot caffeine warm my insides.
Maksim takes the seat across from us, his posture relaxed but eyes sharp. He pours coffee from the metal carafe with practiced ease.
For a moment, no one speaks. Platters are passed. Aspen places a croissant on my plate without asking. I don't protest. I don't thank her either. I just let it be there.
Red adds some scrambled eggs, declaring, "These look delicious."
"Aspen makes the best breakfast," Maksim praises.
"My mom was a great cook. She taught me everything I know," Aspen states, but there's a flicker of sadness in her expression.
Maksim slides his hand over hers. They exchange a glance.
Red nudges my ankle with his foot under the table. "One bite," he murmurs, low enough only I can hear.
I glare at him.
He smiles back.
I tear off a piece of croissant and eat it. The buttery flake melts on my tongue, and my stomach tightens with more anger. I swallow hard and take a sip of coffee to hide it. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "This doesn't change anything. Just because the morning's pretty."
Maksim doesn't look offended. If anything, he looks like he expected it. He evenly agrees, "No. It doesn't."
