Page 130 of Before Dawn

As he stepped into the next room, his voice turning all business, I tidied up—putting away the scissors, sweeping up the hair—then took a quick shower. After changing into a simple shirt and gathering my curls into a puff, I found Mikkel still on his call, pacing the living room, his focus elsewhere.

Grabbing my bag, I waited near the door, not wanting to interrupt. The moment he hung up, his gaze lifted, softening as it landed on me. “Ready?”

I nodded, slipping on my coat as we headed out.

The city hummed with life, downtown traffic crawling as we drove. I settled into my seat, absently tapping my fingers against my lap. Then, without warning, Mikkel pulled off to the side of the road.

I glanced at him in confusion.

“I’m buying you lunch,” he said with a grin, nodding toward the familiar Chipotle sign.

I beamed, warmth blooming in my chest at the small gesture. “You’re the best.”

A moment later, he handed me the warm bowl, and my smile deepened.

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking a bite as he refocused on the road.

As we neared the bookstore, he slowed to the curb. His fingers brushed against mine before he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. Brief but grounding, it settled something deep inside me.

“Take care of yourself, please,” I whispered, my hand still restingon his.

His thumb traced gentle circles over my knuckles before he kissed me again—this time slower, more tender. “I’ll be fine. Just call me when you’re done so I can come get you.”

With a small nod, I stepped out of the car, my heart full. “I will. Have a good day.”

Even as I walked to the entrance, his gaze remained—steady, unwavering. A sense of comfort settled over me, wrapping around me as I started my shift.

Chapter twenty-eight

Mikkel

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.”

~ Alfred Tennyson

My control was slipping. Maybe it was the long hours at the office or the constant demands coming at me from every direction, but everything felt wrong. The tension in my neck and the pounding in my head weighed heavier than usual, as if my body was rebelling against the pressure I refused to let up. I’d dealt with worse before, but this time, everything was stacking up—one thing after another—until I was teetering on the edge of snapping.

I tried to push through, focusing on the presentation in front of me. I meticulously adjusted every slide and fine-tuned every number, but even the smallest imperfection—a bracket out of place or a line slightly misaligned—set my teeth on edge. My fingers tapped against the desk, my irritation building with each futile attempt to regain control.

The expansion of Elite Rides was everything to me. Chicago was a success, but I needed that same outcome in every other state. Every detail had to be flawless—meetings, investor calls, follow-ups, and endless back-and-forth with my team. It all demanded perfection. And the more I pushed for it, the more it seemed to slip through my fingers.

Oddly enough, the best part of my week was the haircut Abigail gave me. It might sound ridiculous, but when her fingers brushed through my hair, her touch careful and deliberate, it soothed me in a way nothing else could. For a moment, I felt calm, the chaos and the crushing need for perfection fading into the background.

That calm vanished the moment I answered the phone. First, Arnoldo launched into a rant about zoning laws. Then, my mother called, dragging me into petty arguments with her and Emilia—like I wasn’t busy enough already.

This morning, though, I found some peace. I attended a seminar on women’s health,The Healing Path: Navigating Endometriosis and Chronic Pain. The women eyed me curiously, likely because I was the only man in attendance. One even recognized me and asked for a photo, which I agreed to with a smile. At the end of the session, I wrote a check for the awareness fund, hoping to contribute however I could.

But despite the calm of the morning, as I sat in the car parked outside Abigail’s therapist’s office, that restless energy clung to me like a second skin. No matter how much I tried to push it down, it wouldn’t leave.

The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my thoughts. She slid into the seat, and before she could even settle, I leaned in, cupping her cheek as I pressed a deep, slow kiss to her lips.

“Hey, baby,” I murmured, my voice softer than the tension curling in my chest. “How was the session?”

“It was good,” she said, smiling up at me. That smile eased the tight coil of unease just a little.

I reached for the bag beside me, handing her lunch, watching the way her eyes lit up.That helped too.

“You’re definitely a mind reader,” she said, her voice light. “I was starving.”

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