I walk back into the living room. The lights are dimmed, the TV playing a nature documentary about river otters. Ryker and Norah are still in the same position. Jude is in the armchair, scrolling through his phone.
The air in the room is thick with contentment. It’s wonderful, and it’s suffocating. I feel like an intruder in my own life, a ghost haunting a happy home that isn’t really mine.
“I think I’m going to go for a drive,” I announce, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.
Jude looks up, frowning. “A drive? It’s almost 8:30. Where are you going to go?”
“Just around. I need to… clear my head.” I grab my keys from the hook by the door, jingling them nervously. “I’ve been inside all day. I need some air.”
Norah shifts, looking at me over Ryker’s shoulder. Her eyes scan my face. “Is everything okay? You seemed off at dinner.”
“I’m fine. Really.” I force a smile. “Besides, you two look cozy. I feel like a third wheel. I figured I’d give you guys some privacy for a bit.”
Ryker frowns. “Amber, you’re not a third wheel. This is your house too. We don’t mind you being here.”
“I know. I just… I need to drive. Please.” I don’t want to explain. I can’t explain. If I say I’m going to a restaurant to meet a man I met today, Jude will want to come with me.
He’ll want to vet him. He’ll turn this into a big deal, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just pastries.
Jude sighs, the big brother worry radiating off him. “Keep your phone on. Check in with me in an hour?”
“I will,” I promise. “I won’t be long.”
I pull my coat on and step out into the night air, closing the door firmly behind me. The cold hits me instantly, waking up my senses.
I get into my car and sit there for a moment, the engine off, just breathing. The dashboard lights cast a pale green glow over the interior.
“God, Amber,” I whisper, dropping my forehead against the steering wheel. “What are you doing?”
I look in the rearview mirror. I’m still wearing my work clothes—a slightly stained sweater and jeans that have seen better days. I haven’t brushed my hair since this morning. I look like a wreck.
I dig into my glove box and find a tube of lip gloss. I slick it on, staring at my reflection. It’s too shiny. It looks like I’m trying too hard.
I scrub it off with a napkin until my lips are raw and bare.
The first guy who shows me a shred of kindness, and I’m rushing out into the snow like a pathetic puppy. It’s humiliating.
Luke’s voice whispers in my ear again.You’re broken. You’re too much.
I’m doing it again. I’m looking for a man to fix the mess inside me. I swore I wouldn’t do that anymore. I swore I’d rely on myself.
But then I remember Eli’s hand covering mine. The warmth of his skin. The way he didn’t get angry when I ran into him. The way he talked about his grandmother, like she was a saint.
He didn’t look at me like I was broken. He looked at me like he was… hungry.
And he’s waiting.
The thought hits me with a pang of guilt. He said he’d be there. What if he’s sitting in the dark restaurant, watching the door, wondering why I’m not coming? What if he thinks I stood him up?
I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t bear being the source of someone else’s disappointment, not tonight. Not after Luke’s disappointment already feels like a weight on my chest.
It’s just pastries, I tell myself firmly. It’s food. He’s a chef. It’s his love language. It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s not a life-altering decision. It’s just… comfort.
I check the time again. 8:40 p.m.
I shouldn’t go. I should go back inside, make a cup of tea, and read a book.
My hand turns the key. The engine sputters to life.
