Page 77 of Neap & Spring

“We’ve had this conversation. Beans are a food.”

I stand up, my knees protesting slightly from crouching. Man, I need to stretch more. “Come on.”

“What? Where?”

“We’re getting out of here.”

She blinks up at me. “What?” she repeats.

“You’ve been cooped up in this office for over a week straight. We just sent off the most important document of my career. And you need food.” I hold out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

The words are out before I fully think them through.

In Paris, she used to take walks when she was stressed. I’d see her slip out between practicals and come back an hour later calmer and more centered. I never went with her. She always seemed like she needed the space. And I would have given her anything she needed, even if it was space.

I think I would still give her anything she needed if she asked.

And now, watching her sit in this office surrounded by papers and stress and the weight of my entire future on her shoulders, I want to give her that.

“A walk?”

“Yeah. You know, that thing where you put one foot in front of the other and move through space?”

“I know what a walk is, Cal.”

“Then come on.”

She looks at my hand like it might bite her if she reaches for it.

I’m asking too much. Overstepping. She probably wants to be alone to decompress without me hovering.

She doesn’t look up from my outstretched hand. “What about dinner prep?”

“Roman’s got it. I’ll put him in charge.”

“You never leave during prep.”

She’s right. I don’t. I haven’t in years, probably. But the thought of staying doesn’t even cross my mind right now. The restaurant — my entire world for the past two years — feels distant. Like something happening to someone else at this moment. All I can think about is getting her out of this office. Getting her outside, away from the stress and the spreadsheets and everything we just sent off.

All I can think about is her.

“I’m leaving today.”

“Callum.”

“Vivienne. Please.” I wiggle my fingers, trying to entice her. “Just take a walk with me. Get some air. Eat something that isn’t coffee beans. We both need a break.”

She studies my face, and I can see her processing. Weighing whether this is a good idea.

I want her to say yes. So badly.

Then she slowly takes my hand.

Her palm is warm against mine. I pull her up out of the chair, maybe a little excitedly, and she stumbles slightly, catching herself against my chest.

For a second we’re so close. I can smell her floral shampoo and see the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. I can feel the warmth of her breath on my lips.

Then she steps back quickly.