But their expressions aren’t neutral anymore. Not entirely. There’s something else under them now—something more aware, like they’re watching for what I’ll do next instead of just waiting for an answer.
“I...” I start, then stop, not sure how to finish the sentence. Want dinner? Want to stay? Want to pretend I didn’t just lean into him like it was the most natural thing in the world?
“We don’t have to decide now,” Elias says, his voice quiet from his position beside Adrian. “We can just... see how it goes. No pressure, no expectations. However long you need. However much you can handle.”
Something inside me softens at the reassurance in his words, the instinct to pull away fading beneath a growing desire to stay exactly where I am. Because part of me doesn’t want distance anymore. I want to stay close to them and see what happens if I stop treating every instinct pulling me toward them like something dangerous. “I’d like that,” I say finally. “Dinner, I mean. If it’s not too much trouble.”
Adrian’s face lights up with something unguarded, a warm, genuine smile that feels nothing like the practiced expressions he wears in interviews. “No trouble at all,” he says, already pushing to his feet. “Bash, you want to help? Or are you going to make me do all the work again?”
“Again?” Bash asks, his tone deliberately wounded. “I helped last time. I handed you the mustard. That counts.” His tone stayslight, but his attention flicks to me for a beat too long before it settles back into the conversation.
“It really doesn’t,” Adrian says, but he’s still smiling as he says it. “Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner we eat.” They move toward the doorway together, but I notice things I wouldn’t have before. The slight glance Bash sends back over his shoulder before he disappears into the hall. The way Adrian avoids calling attention to the moment between us, giving me room to recover without embarrassment. Like they’re both giving me space on purpose instead of just moving on.
Elias remains seated, his attention intently focused on my face. “You okay?” he asks after a moment, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. His gaze doesn’t flick away when I look at him. It stays on me, calm and perceptive in a way that makes it clear he noticed everything. “We can go if you need to,” he adds. “Whenever you’re ready. No pressure, no questions. Just... say the word.”
The sincerity behind the offer affects me more than it should. “I’m good,” I say, and mean it. “Really. This is... helping. More than I expected.”
He nods once, accepting the statement at face value. “Good,” he says simply.
We sit in relative silence for a moment, the only sound the distant clatter from the kitchen and the soft hum of the heating system. The silence should feel like the kind that needs filling.
I'm starting to realize it never really does with them.
“I should help,” I say finally, pushing the blankets aside as I rise to my feet. “With dinner, I mean. It’s the least I can do.”
Elias nods, already moving to stand. “They’d like that,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. There’s something in the way he says it—like it’s already decided, like he knows I’m not walking away from this now, even if I try to convince myself I could. “Having you there. Being part of it.”
The words settle warmly beneath my skin, carrying the same attentiveness they’ve shown me all night. Not focused on what I’m becoming, but on who I already am.
“I’d like it too,” I say, the words coming out quietly.
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods once. “Then let’s go,” he says simply. “Before they eat all the good mustard.”
A laugh slips out as I follow him toward the doorway, drawn forward by the warmth and easy companionship waiting in the next room.
Chapter 18
Maya
The kitchen feels lived-in, golden light catching on the countertops as Adrian moves between the stove and the island. He holds a knife as he cuts tomatoes into neat slices. Bash stands at the island, his attention focused on whatever he‘s mixing in the bowl in front of him. Their conversation shifts between the documentary and tomorrow's filming, their voices blending into a familiar hum.
I pause at the doorway for a second, just watching them. Elias stops beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him through the space between us.
“There she is,” Adrian says, looking up with a bright smile. “Perfect timing. I was just about to send a search party.” His gaze flicks to Elias, then back to me. “You guys want to help? Or just supervise from a safe distance?”
“I can help,” I say, already stepping farther into the kitchen. “What can I do?”
Adrian smiles a little at that, like he’d already known I wouldn’t be able to sit still while they worked. “Perfect,” he says, already reaching for a cutting board. “You can start with the cheese. Bash likes it thin enough to see through, but I think we can compromise on ‘not falling apart’ as a baseline.”
I cross the room quickly, drawn closer by his smile. Bash looks up as I approach, his expression softening. “Hey,” he says.“You’re just in time. Adrian was about to start talking about his sandwich philosophy again, and I’ve already heard it fourteen times this week.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
The exchange is simple, ordinary even, but I still find myself caught off guard by how natural it feels to step into it.
“I have not,” Adrian protests, unable to hide his grin. “And it’s not a philosophy. It’s a system. There’s a difference.”
“There’s really not,” Bash says, but he’s smiling too. “But go ahead. Enlighten us. I’m sure Maya’s dying to know the proper order for a club sandwich.”
