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Why is he apologizing? I’m completely overwhelmed by the simple fact that they remembered it at all. More so that they know I can’t have dairy, and they’re going out of their way to accommodate me without even seeming annoyed about it.

I set my wine down and move around the island. “Let me help⁠—”

“Absolutely not.” Cole’s voice is firm but gentle.

“No, really, let me help.” I reach for the asparagus that Gage just finished washing. Suddenly Cole’s hands are on my shoulders, guiding me to the barstool.

“Sit down and let us take care of you.”

I stare up at him, throat tight. How do I do that? No one has taken care of me in . . . god, I can’t even remember how long. I’ve been the one taking care of Mom, managing her appointments and memory care. I’ve been the one carrying the emotional load in every romantic relationship, making sure everyone else was comfortable and happy.

That’s probably why I stayed with Matt for so long. Frowning, I pick at my nails. “Is this because I cried?” The question slips out before I can stop it, vulnerability bleeding through my voice.

Cole’s features soften. “No, this is because you’ve been working your ass off, you’re probably hungry because it’s dinner time, and frankly, this food sounded good.” He grins at me, that charming smile that could probably get him out of any kind of trouble.

“If you really feel like you need to do something,” Hudson says, throwing me a lifeline. “You can set the table.”

I practically leap off the stool, grateful for a task. I’d rather have something to do with my hands so I don’t have to sit there feeling useless while they wait on me. I grab plates from the cabinet, silverware from the drawer, cloth napkins from the hutch. Simple tasks, but they help settle the restless energy buzzing under my skin.

Soon enough, dinner is ready and we all sit down around their beautiful dining table. The guys dish out the food, generous portions that make my mouth water, but then they sit there. Waiting. All three pairs of eyes focused on me.

They’re waiting for me to try it first.

“Oh, um.” I pick up my fork and take a bite of the risotto. The moment it hits my tongue, I nearly cry. Citrus bursts across my taste buds and that creamy texture sends my soul straight to heaven. “Oh my god,” I murmur, quickly taking another bite and humming in approval.

“I guess that means you like it?” Gage asks, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“I love it.” I ready another forkful, already planning my next bite. “You guys better start eating before I finish my food and go for yours.”

With light chuckles, they finally dig in. The conversation flows easily. They ask about my job and if I enjoy it. I explain that I love it, but it’s exhausting trying to make the career work. They ask about my mom. I appreciate that I don’t have to pretend that’s not a big part of my life. Matt hardly ever asked about Mom. I find myself sharing more than I should. The guilt that’s settled inside me because I can’t visit as often as I’d like, how hard it is to watch someone you love disappear piece by piece, how the financial burden of memory care is too much for a normal person.

“That has to be really hard,” Gage says quietly, eyes filled with compassion.

“My mom always says the hardest part about loving someone is watching them hurt and not being able to fix it,” Cole adds.

By the end of dinner, I’m feeling warm and happy, but a voice in the back of my mind keeps whispering warnings. This is too good. Too perfect. It’s exactly how things were with Matt in the beginning before he turned into a raging asshole who couldn’t be bothered to remember my birthday.

The thought has dread churning in my stomach. “Why are you guys being so nice to me?”

All three of them answer at the same time. “Because you deserve it.”

I stare at them, completely speechless. The words, so simple and matter of fact, steal my breath. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard those words before. Not from my dad, who left when things got hard. Not from Matt, who treated me like an obligation. Mom, she was amazing, the best mom I could have ever asked for, but now I don’t know if she’ll ever have the chance to say those words to me.

The guys get up to clear the table, leaving me sitting there in shocked silence. I watch them move around the kitchen, the same easy teamwork they displayed while cooking. Is this what Callie feels like with the Williams brothers? This sense of being cherished, protected, wanted.

It’s terrifying and wonderful, and I have no idea what to do with any of it.

Three days later, I push through the glass doors of Big Ridge Realty, already feeling frazzled. The early morning deep clean at Addison’s grandma’s house took longer than it should have and I’m not even done yet. She wasn’t kidding about her grandma holding on to things. The woman apparently kept everything she ever owned. It wasn’t filthy like some places I’ve seen on TV, but it was overwhelming and there was a ton of dust. I sneeze three times on my way to my desk, eyes watering. The respirator did its job, but I swear that the funk of old things still clings to me.

All I had time for was a quick rinse off, and I’m absolutely running behind for the rest of my day. My phone buzzes with a reminder about the two o’clock appointment, and I mentally calculate how much time I’ll need.

Sarah waves from behind her desk where she’s already deep in conversation with a young couple about starter homes. She looks so put-together in her navy blazer and her blonde hair sleek and perfectly styled. Meanwhile, I’m puffing for air like I’ve been running a marathon in heels.

I’m so distracted looking at her that I almost crash right into Laura.

“Watch it.” Her sharp reprimand instantly makes my hackles rise. She’s in a boxy black dress that is somehow flattering on her. She would be beautiful if not for the ugly pinch of her face as she glares at me. “Jesus, you look terrible.”

“You’re so sweet,” I tell her, giving her an overly indulgent smile and moving to step around her.