Page 54 of The One Who Saw Her: Boone

"And what do you want now?" she asked.

His voice went low. "Peace."

Her heart sank a little, because that ruled her out. If he was peace, she was the spark that made it messy—the fire that left scorch marks in his calm. She could practically hear the metaphorical smoke alarms blaring.

Only she silenced them because this wasn't about her. This moment was about Boone and his perfect match. It was about finding someone calm and steady—someone who fit neatly into his meticulously, organized world. That was most definitely not her. She was all noise and disarray and sticky notes—the kind of person who tripped over a chair while singing Taylor Swift on a kitchen table and still thought she could keep it together.

"Go on," she prompted.

"I want a home that doesn't feel empty when the lights go out."

Something in her went very still. It wasn't the kind of thing most men admitted—not out loud, not like that.

A home that didn't feel empty.

The words echoed in places she tried not to acknowledge because she wanted that too. Not the picture-perfect house with the white-picket fence or the performance that came with that but the actual warmth of being known. Of not having to carry the whole conversation just to fill the silence. She wanted someone who would choose to stay when the lights went out.

"Favorite quality in a partner?"

His smile was the kind that started in one corner and ruined her composure entirely. "Someone who calls me on my bullshit."

"I'm sensing a theme."

"Yeah?" he said softly. "I'm sensing one too."

She looked up, and for a heartbeat the air between them went completely still. His gaze wasn't teasing anymore. It was open and careful. And it made her palms sweat.

Vivi tapped her pen against the notebook, pulling herself back. "Okay, serious question. Guilty pleasure TV show?"

Boone blinked at her like she'd just asked him to solve world hunger with a spatula. "The Bachelor."

Vivi nearly choked. "What?"

He shook his head, eyes briefly closed, like he couldn't quite believe the admission. "God, I didn't just say that out loud. Did I?"

"Oh, you did," she said, laughing hard enough that the corners of her eyes went wet. "Now I need to know why."

"Easy. Feelings aren't endlessly analyzed, they're acted on. Dates. Choices. Roses. I respect momentum."

"And?"

"And my mom used to make me watch it."

Of course. It wasn't about guilty pleasure or reality-TV drama. It was about a time when watching something silly with his mom had felt like enough. Boone didn't watch The Bachelor because of the roses. He watched it because it reminded him of being loved without having to earn it.

It was a small epiphany, but a sharp one: Boone didn’t cling to things because he was stuck—he held onto them because they mattered. Suddenly, Vivi wondered if that was what she’d been doing too. Mistaking loyalty and care for fear of moving on.

"I need the full last-season recap," she said. "Immediately."

He maintained careful composure, though the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Fine. But only if you promise not to judge me."

"No judgment. Not yet, anyway." Vivi leaned forward, pen poised, as he walked her through The Golden Bachelor—who won, who he'd rooted for, and why the runner-up deserved better.

When he finished, she nodded solemnly. "That was very brave of you."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "Next question."

"Go-to weekend hobby?"