Everyone’s already here, enjoying breakfast, a large family of misfits. Dante’s at the head of the table, Layla on his right, Carter on his left. Broadway’s inhaling half a baguette, and Violet slaps his wrist when he talks with his mouth full.
Hailey’s locked in conversation with Layla while Ryder harasses Dante’s staff, requesting a third shot of espresso. Looks like he didn’t get much sleep last night. The dark circles under Bianca’s eyes confirm they were getting busy instead of resting.
I wonder if I look as exhausted.
Leilani sure doesn’t. She’s bright-faced, sharp-eyed, her hair up in a crooked knot that somehow makes her prettier. She looks awake in a way I don’t. Alert. At ease, despite what’s waiting for her in under an hour’s time.
She’s nursing a cup of coffee, listening to Bianca vent about an uncollected bouquet she spent five hours making. Ryder moved her floral shop to Columbus after she threatened to make their relationship long-distance.
Leilani laughs at something Bianca said, a little hoarse from last night. My body lights up, eyes zeroing in on the faint mark on her throat. Proof she’s mine. Proof I had her moaning into the mattress... and she’ll need to hide it soon, covering me up with concealer for Anton’s benefit.
My jaw grinds until my teeth ache.
No one mentions the fucker or the approaching FaceTime. No one says a word about last night’s plan. We talk about nothing. Weather. A terrible movie Hailey made Carter watch. Violet’s fast approaching due date.
I don’t join in, but I’m far from quiet...
I’m a fucking countdown timer in my own head, eyes darting to my wristwatch every few seconds.
Eight forty-two.
Anton calls at ten. There’s still time, but each tick lands like a hammer. I hate watching her talk to him. She floats between my hellcat and his petal, and the jealous, territorial part of me rages against letting him think he still owns her.
Leilani spreads jam over a piece of toast, setting it on my plate. Her knee brushes my thigh when she shifts, andfuck.
I’m so needy it makes me nauseous. All I want is to pull her into my lap and keep her there.
“Eat,” she insists when I leave the toast untouched. “You can’t function on coffee.”
“I did before you turned up,” I grumble, immediately regretting my words.
They’re too harsh. Too close to sounding like I don’t want her. My lips part, ready to apologize, or spiral a little more, but Leilani just smirks, eyes glittering.
God, I don’t deserve her.
“Yes, I bet you did, but you didn’t burn off as muchenergybefore I turned up, so...” She picks up the toast, pushing it into my hand. “Eat. Trust me, you’ll need the strength.”
I kiss her temple, hide my grin and do what she says.
Eight fifty-seven.
My knee’s bouncing as I fold and unfold a napkin for no reason whatsoever. Broadway catches my eye across the table, his brow lifting in a question I don’t want to answer:you good?
I stare back until he gets the message and concentrates on his plate. I’m not in the mood for pep talks this morning.
Carter and Dante are telling an old story about a job that went sideways and somehow turned into a fishing trip. Everyone laughs. Everyone but me. I’m too busy counting Leilani’s breaths without staring at her... and she keeps pushing more food onto my plate as if preparing me for a fuck-a-thon.
Three minutes past nine.
Hailey exits through the patio door to take a call. Violet steals Broadway’s coffee and pretends she didn’t. He cut her off as soon as they found out she’s pregnant, and she’s been getting her fixes in secret. Dante’s phone buzzes with something he ignores, and Leilani eyes the pastries, deciding she’ll have one more. Or rather,I’llhave one more since she drops it on my plate after taking a tiny bite and cringing.
Nine eleven.
She moves behind my chair, her hand skating along my shoulders. “I should get ready,” she says, then thanks Dante and Layla for breakfast.
Given the riot inside my head, I should probably sit this one out. Not that I will. I follow her because there’s no way I’ll listen to the meaningless conversations over the table while she’s upstairs alone, dealing with Anton.
Voices blur into the background as we move up a flight of stairs, left, and into our bedroom.
