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“Because this is where you belong. Not in some boardroom. Not buried in an office.” He taps on the table. “Here. In a kitchen, creating things like this.”

It should piss me off that he’s saying what I’ve already figured out for myself. But it doesn’t. Because it doesn’t feel like a dismissal.

It feels like respect.

Naomi’s hand finds mine under the table.

“She’d be proud,” he continues. “I am. Dad would?—”

“Eli,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “He made his opinions pretty clear.”

His jaw tightens. “Brandon.”

“No.” I snatch up the plates, stacking them. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Naomi starts to rise, but I shoot her a look that keeps her seated. This is my mess to clean up.

“You’re right,” Elijah says, his voice softening in that calculated way he uses to close million-dollar deals. I swear if he— “It’s about you. And your future.”

I pause at the sink, my back to them. “My future?”

“I’ve been thinking.” The sound of his chair scraping back. “The other building you were looking at back then… it’s still available.”

My hands grip the edge of the counter.

“Corner location, foot traffic.” His footsteps approach. “And a recently renovated kitchen.”

I turn slowly. “What’s your angle?”

“Let me invest. Silent partner.”

“You want in on my restaurant?”

“After tonight?” He gestures at the empty plates. “I’d be an idiot not to.”

I study his face, looking for the catch, the strings attached. But all I see is my brother, the same asshole who taught me to ride a bike and throw a punch, offering an olive branch in the only way he knows how—through business and a checkbook. You could say it’s his love language.

“I’ll think about it,” I say finally.

Gemma rises, social grace personified. “We should head out. It’s late.”

Elijah nods, accepting my non-answer with unusual grace. “The offer stands.”

“Tonight was incredible.” Gemma hooks her arm through his. “You’ve got a gift.”

I walk them out, clicking the door shut behind them. The silence settles like a blanket, broken only by Naomi loading thedishwasher, and me slumping against the wall, letting out a deep breath.

“You alive over there?” Naomi calls out.

“Barely.” I push off the wall and join her in the kitchen. “Just… processing.”

She passes me Gemma’s unused wine glass. “Which part? His offer or him admitting he was wrong?”

“Both.” The glass clinks as I set it down. “Hell might be freezing over.”

“People can surprise you.” She closes the dishwasher. “Sometimes in good ways.”

I pull her against me, breathing in vanilla and something uniquely her. “Like you changing your stance on dessert?”

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