He didn’t comment. That was new. Roman could be a dick, but he was careful when it counted, and the fact that he was choosing not to ask made my throat feel tight.
Vanessa had texted.
Vanessa: Aspen confirmed. Sent you the details. We can talk tonight?
I stared at it until the words stopped making sense.
Talk tonight meant real talk. Not logistics. Not room reservations. Not what time is your flight, did you eat, can you wear the blue suit. Real talk.
Across the room, Declan laughed quietly at something Benny said.
My stomach dropped.
Olivia probably texted him in the morning. Maybe he woke up and called her. Maybe he said love you with that warm voice while I was in my room feeling calm because another woman’s husband told me to sleep.
The coffee machine hissed again, sharp and loud.
Milo’s chair scraped backward.
Someone behind me dropped a fork.
My skin prickled all at once, like every nerve had decided to face outward. Too many sounds. Too many things to answer. Too much guilt, attraction, schedule, breakfast, Roman’s concern, Vanessa’s text, Declan across the room, my own stupid foot bouncing under the table like it wanted to leave without me.
I picked up my phone.
Opened Declan’s thread.
My thumb hit the letters before I could overthink it.
Amber.
I sent it, then locked the screen so fast it clicked against the table.
Roman looked up. “You good?”
“Yep.”
The lie came out too bright.
My phone vibrated thirteen seconds later.
Declan: Put both feet on the floor.
I did it.
Declan: Unclench your left hand.
I looked down. My fist was tight around my napkin. I opened my fingers.
Declan: Eat three bites. Then water.
No are you okay. No what happened. No big dramatic rescue from across the breakfast room. He didn’t even look over right away.
I ate a bite of eggs.
They tasted like nothing, but I chewed and swallowed.
Second bite. Toast.
