The metal folding chair made my muscles stiff after so many hours. My hands ached beneath the bandages. My head was thick and foggy. I caught myself blinking slower and slower, fighting the pull of sleep right there at the edge of the table.
That was when Roman’s hand wrapped gently around my wrist.
I startled and he leaned down, close enough that only I heard him. “I think it’s time I get you home.”
Relief hit me so fast, it almost made me dizzy.
They hadn’t wanted to leave me at the bed-and-breakfast alone earlier, which was why I’d tagged along to all of this in the first place. Roman offering me a way out now felt like a lifeline.
“But shouldn’t you stay?” I whispered back.
He shook his head. “August can take over from here. I should be good to go.”
His brothers were deep in discussion, heads bent over blueprints and notes.
“Just you and me?” I asked.
A faint, tired smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah. Just you and me for now.”
I nodded.
He helped me up, and we slipped out of city hall while the meeting continued behind us.
Outside, the air had turned sharper. I glanced up at the clock tower as we stepped onto Center Street, surprised to see it was already almost five o’clock. Dusk was settling in, the winter sky fading into that deep blue that always came too fast.
I was starving.
When we climbed into Roman’s truck, he blasted the heat immediately.
“Want me to grab something to eat on the way home?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb.
I shook my head. “No. I can cook.”
Eating out was one of my least favorite things. After a day like this one, I’d rather spend some extra time cooking a good meal that would taste and feel a thousand times better than takeout. I already had something in mind—dinner for everyone. I had some rotisserie chicken in the fridge that would be divine in some chicken and gnocchi soup. I even had some fresh sourdough to go with it.
Roman’s gaze flicked down to my bandaged hands, one brow arching.
I shoved them into the pockets of my coat. It was a proper winter coat that Roman insisted on buying me. I only took it because, honestly, it was nice. It wasn’t tight or restrictive and was made of soft, olive-green boiled wool.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t need to overdo it. It’s good to flex your hands, but it still has to hurt.”
I shrugged and stared out the passenger window at the snowbanks lining the street. “It doesn’t hurt. I want to cook.”
He didn’t argue, but I heard the quiet sigh as he drove us home.
It wasn’t long before the bed-and-breakfast came into view, lights glowing against the darkening sky.
As we walked up the steps and inside, I glanced at him.
“You did a good job at the press conference.”
His lips thinned. “I guess so.”
I tilted my head. “Do you not think this is a good plan?”
He locked the door behind us and turned on the security system before answering. The soft electronic chirp filled the quiet house.
