He shifted his weight, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m glad I bought you that drink.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
The space between us felt suddenly smaller. When he leaned in, it wasn’t sudden. He gave me time, space, a quiet chance to step back, and I didn’t.
The kiss was brief at first. Soft, like he was waiting to see if I would meet him there. I let myself stay in it for a heartbeat, maybe two. I stayed for the comfort of another mouth, another presence that wasn’t a memory.
His hand came up, resting lightly at my waist, hesitant even then, as if he was still asking, still giving me room to choose.
And that was when it hit.
This wasn’t right. It felt… nice, yes. Comfortable. Easy, even. But not right. Not what I wanted. NotwhoI wanted. And that truth still held too much of me.
I pulled back gently, the distance returning all at once. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He didn’t press. Just gave a small, understanding nod.
“You did nothing wrong,” I added, a small smile slipping through.
“I know,” he replied.
“Take care, Tommy,” I said, more certain this time.
“You too, Elena.”
CHAPTER 40
Elena
Sunday mornings used to feel different.
Back then—before Haille, before everything—Sunday meant brunch plans, lazy kisses pressed into my hair, Adrian’s hand at the small of my back as we walked into places like we belonged there.
Now, Sunday meant something else. It meant waking up to a quiet house, making pancakes with a toddler who insisted on cracking the eggs herself, and choosing what kind of peace I wanted to build with my own hands.
Today felt different from the Sundays before it. It was my birthday.
Last night, I’d only told Haille to go to bed early after her video call, saying there was something special the next day. But Adrian had already told her the truth, and she’d taken that information like a sacred responsibility, nodding so hard her curls bounced.
This morning, the moment she shuffled into the kitchen—hair messy, eyes still half asleep—she paused, like she could sense it in the air.
She blinked at me. Then her face lit up, as if she’d remembered something important.
“Mommy...” she said slowly, like she was testing the moment.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
She leaned forward conspiratorially, cupping her hands around her mouth like she was about to tell me the biggest secret in the world. “HAPPY BIRTDAYYYYY!”
It came out too loud, too joyful.
Something in my chest softened instantly, like the day had decided to give me mercy before it gave me anything else.
I laughed, crouching down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, baby.”
Haille grinned. “We go cake?”
“We will,” I promised. “But first... Mommy wants to take you on a date.”
