Page 42 of How To Not Need You

Luca is leaning back in his chair, fingers laced around his coffee mug, watching everyone with a small private smile that suggests he’s been sitting on a solution since Rebecca’s name entered the conversation.

He waits until the noise settles. Until everyone has exhausted their objections and their semi-serious suggestions and their increasingly creative euphemisms for surveillance. Then he sits forward.

“You know what this needs?”

Nobody answers. The silence is deliberate. We’ve all been here before. We’ve all learned that encouraging Luca is a terrible idea. He doesn't need encouragement. He needs supervision.

He grins anyway. “Professionals.”

Harper raises an eyebrow. “Professionals?”

“I know exactly who we need.”

Elsie immediately sighs. The sigh of a woman who has seen this movie before and knows exactly how it ends. “Luca. Don’t.”

He waves her off. “No. Trust me.”

“Trusting you is historically a terrible idea,” I point out.

“Historically, my terrible ideas work.”

Harper folds her arms. “And who would that be?”

Luca’s grin widens. It’s the grin of a man who knows he’s about to make everyone’s lives significantly more complicated and is deeply, sincerely delighted by the prospect. “Leave it to me.”

The table goes quiet. Not the comfortable quiet of friends sharing coffee. The type quiet that only happens when everyone in the room has simultaneously realised they are about to become unwilling participants in one of Luca’s ideas, and there is absolutely nothing any of us can do to stop it.

Natalie exchanges a look with Freya. Freya glances toward Wren, who quietly takes another sip of coffee and decides, wisely, that whatever is happening is none of her business. Sophie turns to me for answers. I immediately outsource that problem to Harper, who’s already pinching the bridge of her nose like she can physically prevent the headache she knows is coming.

Elsie exhales slowly. “I’m going to regret whatever you’re about to do.”

Luca simply smiles into his coffee. “So much.”

I watch him over the rim of my mug. His eyes are bright. His fingers tap against the ceramic in a rhythm that suggests he’s already delighting in the fact that none of us have any idea what’s coming.

This is going to be a disaster.

Best case, we embarrass ourselves. Worst case, somebody gets arrested and Luca frames the mugshot on the wall behind the cash register.

And, against all common sense, I’m kind of looking forward to it.

Chapter

Eight

Jake

The warmth of Page & Grounds hits me the moment I push through the door, still in my station jacket with the collar turned up against the morning chill. My boots leave damp prints on the floor that Luca will definitely notice and probably complain about later, but right now I don’t care. Fourteen hours of night shift is finally done, and the only thing I want is coffee and five minutes of silence before Ben starts talking. Considering he wasn't on shift last night, my chances aren't good. I find him in the corner by the window, already installed at a table with two mugs in front of him. One leg stretched out, chair tipped back just far enough to suggest he owns the place, which he doesn’t, and a grin that makes me immediately suspicious.

“You’re late,” he says.

I drop into the empty chair across from him. “I’m not.”

“I was expecting you ten minutes ago.”

“Captain needed to ask me about a shift change.”

The coffee is exactly how I like it, black, no sugar, still steaming, and I wrap both hands around the mug and let the heat seep into my palms. Ben watches me over the rim of his own cup, still grinning.