Page 65 of Stick Fight

I show her a few more pieces I’d been working on at home, and then glance at the time. “I should get going. You’ve got book club, and I’m itching to finish up my designs.”

She opens her mouth like she’s about to invite me along, but I’m already turning to pack up my fabric and sewing machine. A quick kiss blown to Stella, a promise to be back tomorrow, and I’m out the door.

When I step back into Roman’s place, it’s oddly quiet, but not empty. Not anymore. The silence is full of warmth, of us. It’s crazy how this space—his space—is slowly becoming ours. A place where I don’t have to talk to myself just to fill the void.

The next couple of days blur by in a whirlwind of Stella, stitching and sketching. Roman and I missed our usual video chat the first night, but tonight, before he boarded the plane, he carved out a moment just to hear my voice. Just enough to remind me I’m on his mind.

Now, knowing he’ll be here when I wake, I slip into bed, cocooned in the sheets that still smell like him. And when the sun peeks through the window the next morning, he’s there. Right beside me. Warm, still, and so beautiful in his sleep.

My heart clenches. I pull the blanket over him with quiet care, resisting the fierce pull to wake him, to kiss him, to feel him again. But he needs rest. And I promised I’d wake him early. Just… not yet. Not until I can do it right.

There's something about seeing him here, though, so peaceful it makes my chest ache in the best way. We haven’t had any real talks yet. No deep dives. But as I look at him now, I can’t help but there’s more between us.

I dress in silence and slip out into the early spring morning. The air is fresh, thick with the scent of blooming flowers. If The Nook was closer, I’d walk the whole way, let the new season wash over me. But I drive instead, taking my time through the humming Boston streets until I find a spot near Gina’s café.

As I stroll toward the door, I admire the flower boxes overflowing with color. It’s a new season, a new day full of promise. The second I step inside, I’m wrapped in the scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon. I don’t bother grabbing a table. I’m on a mission to get a few of Roman’s favorite treats—he deserves them after a long road trip—and a quiet return home before he stirs.

Avery hands me the bag with a smile, and just as I push open the door to head out, I’m stopped—literally—by a wall of muscle in the form of a man stepping in.

Theo.

My stomach drops.

I try to step around him, but he shifts, blocking my path with that familiar smirk plastered across his face.

“What’s the hurry?” he asks, like he’s amused, like this is some game to him.

“Roman is waiting for me,” I say quickly, lifting the pastry box like a shield. My skin prickles in that way it always does around Theo. Yes, I instinctively know better than to trust him, even when I’m trying to play it cool.

“What’s he waiting for?” His smirk widens, cold and predatory, like he thrives on toying with women. Anger rises in my chest because I know exactly what he’s insinuating.

“I don’t have time for this. If you’ll excuse me—” I try to sidestep again.

Nope. He moves right with me. “What’s happening with you two, anyway?”

“That’s none of your business.” I keep my tone measured, tight, doing my best to shut it down before this spirals. The last thing I want is for Roman to be dragged into some testosterone-fueled pissing contest because of me.

He laughs. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know. Gotta say, though.” He shakes his head. “Roman is kind of an evil genius.”

Don’t engage. Don’t engage. Don’t engage.

My teeth clench. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gives me a slow once-over that makes my skin crawl. “Keeping a hottie like you at home while he’s off fucking bunnies on the road. That’s pretty damn convenient, don’t you think? But it won’t last.”

I should leave. Iwantto leave. But something inside me snaps.

“Meaning?”

He shrugs like he’s bored. “Just saying. When he gets tired of playing house, you’ll have no choice but to go crawling back to your fancy fiancé and your fashion world.” He tilts his head, mock innocence dripping from every word. “Cassisstill your fiancé, right?”

“No,” I snap, louder than intended. I catch myself before launching into a full-blown explanation that the tabloids are wrong, that Cass and his father are lying. Who else believes it? But he’s not worth the effort. I don’t owe him a damn thing. “None of this is your business.”

Theo steps in closer, and I take a reflective step back. He licks his bottom lip, eyes narrowing like he’s enjoying himself way too much. “How about we make it my business?”

You have got to be kidding me?

I’m one second from kneeing him straight where it’ll count, when the café door swings open behind him. He’s forced to step aside, and I don’t hesitate. I bolt, clutching the box to my chest as I push outside, desperate to put distance between myself and that whole encounter. I tell myself to shake it off, to move on, to forget it even happened.

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