Breathe. Smile. Don’t crack.
“The Dickens Festival is this afternoon. Will you join us, or is it too much, even with masks?” She asks, taking Anna in her arms, pausing to blow a raspberry on her stomach.
“As much as I’d love to go, I think it’s safer if we skip this year.”
Another sting to add. Not missing something I love, but knowing it won’t even occur to Mason to stay with Anna. A simple, thoughtful gesture that would cost him nothing and mean everything.
“James, is the guest room okay?” Margaret asks.
He nods, flushing. “Yeah, it’s great. Thank you.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you know it’s fine if you stay in Ivy’s room. We’re all adults here.” She disappears, her words echoing in her wake.
I turn to the sink full of dishes. Anything to silence the quiet chaos left behind from Mason. From Margaret.
James grabs a dish towel and steps beside me, falling into sync. Wash, dry, put away. The rhythm is oddly steadying.
“You okay?” he asks after a round of drying mugs.
“I’m fine.”
He tilts his head, studying me with that unnerving ability to peel back layers I’ve spent years stitching in place. Layers no one is supposed to see.
I snap, sharper than I mean to. “Will you please stop doing that? I can’t have you looking at me like that.”
His brows lift with that maddeningly smug expression. “Like what?”
My pulse trips. Because this man is making it impossible to keep lying to myself.
His voice drops. “You know, there’s a thin ring of gold around your irises. When you’re flustered, it’s like it catches fire. You keep yourself so locked down, but that, Sydney… you can’t control.”
“Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what, Sydney?” He lets each syllable roll off his tongue. His eyes pin me in place, and when he bites his lower lip, the smugness sharpens into something darker.
My careful control shatters. And the truth slips out.
“Like… you’re undressing me.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. He breathes in, slow and deep, and I feel it everywhere. I lean forward as his towering body bends. One more inch and—
“Good morning!” Ivy says breezily as she enters the kitchen.
I jerk back, spinning toward the sink. My cheeks blaze as I grab an already-clean plate and start scrubbing desperately. I pray Ivy doesn’t notice.Doesn’t see. But the chemistry is so potent it could set a high school science lab ablaze by sheer proximity alone; I don’t know how she can’t.
James stands frozen, blinking like someone turned on a spotlight. He clears his throat and says, “We’re finishing up the dishes.”
“What are you guys chatting about? Looked intense.” Ivy leans against the island, tone casual.
A high-pitched laugh escapes, quick as the lie tumbling out of my mouth. “Just debating a book we both read.”
Her head tilts. “What book? Maybe I’ll read it too.”
“A thriller, dark and twisty,” James offers. “Probably not your thing.”
“But maybe it could be, if I gave it a shot.”
“Lock Every Door,” he says without hesitating.
