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She let out a loud scoff from her spot at the island, setting her mug down so hard that she’d probably almost cracked the ceramic. “Excuse me? I do not harass you, Thayer. I provide necessary social commentary.”

“Necessary to who?” he shot back without hesitation. “I never need social commentary. What I need is peace and quiet, and that’s always in short supply when you’re around.”

She rolled her eyes, then shot me a tragic look. “That’s it. I’m moving out. Clearly, I’m no longer wanted in this house, so I’ll just go pack my bags and leave you two lovebirds to your own misery.”

“Don’t,” I blurted immediately, a spike of panic shooting through me at the thought of being left alone with my husband.

“Please do,” Holden said at the exact same millisecond, completely deadpan. “When can we expect you to be gone?”

Tasha shot him a lethal glare, but I didn’t give her a chance to retaliate. They could have it out on their own time. I didn’t want to her to move out—obviously—but I also wouldn’t have wanted to live with him if I didn’t have to, and she didn’t have to.

Plus, our situation was so entirely awkward that living with us was probably worse than living with actual newlyweds. Even so, I pushed open the front door and took a step toward the porch. “If you’re serious about coming, we need to leave right now. I have a schedule to keep. Tasha, don’t you dare move out while I’m gone. I know this is weird, but we’ll figure it out eventually.”

She arched an eyebrow at me, not saying another word as I held her gaze until she finally nodded. Holden followed me out to the porch, his hand disappearing into his pocket and coming out with a set of keys.

“Fine, let’s just go,” he muttered. “We’ll take my car.”

“No, thank you,” I said, stopping on the sidewalk and gesturing to the old bicycle locked near the steps. “I usually just take my bike across town or, if it’s raining, I use the green line.”

Holden didn’t even look at the bicycle. He walked straight toward his dark, immaculate sedan parked at the curb, pressing the key fob to unlock the doors. “You’re not biking through city traffic when I have a perfectly functional vehicle sitting right here. Get in the car, Alicia.”

“I have a routine,” I said stubbornly. “It helps me wake up.”

“Sure, but I don’t have a bike,” he returned, waving at the car again. “How about a compromise? We take my car, but we follow your route.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but an icy wind swept down the street, biting through my cardigan like it wasn’t even there. Plus, if he was willing to compromise and cave on the route, I supposed I could compromise on the method of transportation.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I marched over to the passenger side of the car and yanked open the door, climbing in without another word. As always when we were in his car together, I used the suffocating silence to wonder why he drove a vehicle this normal instead of some fancy SUV or sports car, and he brooded quietly behind the wheel.

As he pulled away from the curb and navigated the quiet, tree-lined streets, I stared out the window and muttered instructions, surprised that he stuck as close to my usual route as he could. Finally, I pointed toward a corner near the next set of traffic lights. “Since you insisted on crashing my morning commute, the least you can do is stop at that small coffee shop right over there. It’s my regular spot.”

Holden glanced at me, eyes eventually tracking the movement of my hand until his gaze landed on the slightly crooked sign hanging over the door. “That’s your regular? It looks like a drug den.”

I scoffed. “They’re an independent place who’s refused to sell out to some big franchise and their small drip coffee only costs a dollar. That’s worth more to me than fancy wallpaper and strategic lighting.”

He sighed but pulled up to an empty spot by the curb right around the corner and shoved the car into park. As I climbed out, I took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of freshly baked bread and pastries from the bakery next door, and waved at the owner of the small bookstore on the other side.

Holden followed me, but while I could practically feel him just a few steps behind, I didn’t turn to look at him or wait for him to catch up. Instead, I just pushed through the door of the little shop, smiling at the soft tinkle of the bell from above.

“Good morning, Bobby,” I said to the only barista behind the counter. “I’ll just have my usual, please.”

She looked up, giving me a warm smile as she nodded. “Hey, Alicia. Coming right up.”

I pulled a crumpled dollar bill out of my pocket, but then Holden stepped up beside me at the counter. He took one look at my single dollar bill, let out a soft, disapproving grunt, and gently but firmly pushed my hand down, tapping his shiny, black credit card against the tabletop.

“Actually, we’ll take two large dark roasts,” he said, his deep voice carrying this effortless command that made Bobby stop in her tracks. “Give us two of the avocado and egg breakfast sandwiches as well, please. To go.”

“I don’t need a sandwich,” I whispered as we moved to the pickup counter. “I never eat heavy breakfasts, Holden. I always just have a piece of toast at home if I’m hungry.”

“Did you have one today?”

“No, I wasn’t hungry.”

He leaned with his back against the wooden counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at me. To my complete surprise, a sudden, passionate spark flared in his eyes and he launched into a completely unexpected tirade while Bobby went about filling the order I hadn’t placed and completely ignoring the one I had.

“Skipping breakfast is scientifically idiotic,” he said, his tone weirdly animated for a guy who usually spoke in single-syllable words or grunts. “You’re about to spend the next four hours being crawled over by infants and shouted at by toddlers. Your body cannot sustain the level of energy required for that on nothing but water flavored with beans. The human brain requires complex carbohydrates and fats to maintain glucose levels. If you crash by ten, you’ll be useless to the children of Chicago and unable to effectively do your job.”

I stared up at him, my mouth slightly open as he continued to lecture me, sounding exactly like a grumpy, overprotective older brother or a very intense sports coach. “Eating a good meal in the morning supplies glucose to your brain and your muscles, and it also helps maintain your blood sugar levels. It’s downright dangerous to skip it, especially without a valid reason.”