Page 20 of Window Seat for Two
"Of course." Marcus stood, smoothing down his jacket. "But don't take too long. This kind of opportunity won't wait forever."
He moved around the table, and Ari didn't pull away when warm lips pressed against his forehead. The kiss felt like a claim being staked, a reminder of territory once held.
"Neither will I," Marcus added softly.
The bell above the door chimed as he left, and Ari sat alone in the empty bakery, staring at the check until the numbers blurred together. He should call Nate. Should explain what was happening and ask for advice, or at least for someone to sit with him while he figured out how to choose between impossible options.
Instead, he folded the check and slipped it into his pocket, where it pressed against his thigh like a guilty secret.
Only then did he notice the coffee carrier and paper bag sitting by the front door, a folded note tucked under the cup holder. His name was written across the front in Nate's careful handwriting, and his chest tightened as he read the message inside.
*Thought you might need these. See you later? - N*
The coffee was still warm.
---
Nate's hands shook as he climbed the stairs to his studio, the image of that conversation burned into his memory. The way the stranger had leaned across the table. The familiarity in his gestures. The envelope that could have contained anything—a contract, a letter, something that made Ari look like he was carrying the world's weight.
And Ari hadn't pulled away when the man kissed his forehead.
Nate set up his easel with mechanical precision, trying to lose himself in preparing to work. Canvas, brushes, palette knife. The commission sketch that was due by noon lay forgotten on his desk as he squeezed paint directly onto the canvas—violent slashes of red and black that bore no resemblance to the gentle illustrations that paid his rent.
His phone buzzed.
*Ari: Sorry I missed you this morning. Long night, slept in. Dinner later?*
Nate stared at the text, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Ari was lying. The bakery should have been open hours ago, and Ari never slept past six. And if he'd been sleeping, who was the man in the expensive suit?
*Can't tonight. Deadline crunch.*
The response felt petty even as he sent it, but Nate couldn't shake the image of Ari's bowed head, the careful distance he'd maintained from that stranger even as he accepted whatever was in the envelope. There were explanations for everything he'd seen—business meeting, family emergency, someone from his past that had nothing to do with their fragile, days-old relationship.
But explanations required honesty, and Ari had already lied once today.
Nate's brush moved across the canvas in angry strokes, the paint thick and unforgiving. He'd been an idiot to think someone like Ari would want more than casual friendship. Had been reading too much into shared coffee and a single kiss, building fantasies around a man who clearly had more complicated concerns.
The afternoon crawled by in frustration and obsessive window-watching. Every time movement caught his eye across the street, he looked up hoping to see Ari emerging from the bakery, maybe with some reasonable explanation for the morning's secrecy. Instead, the CLOSED sign remained in place, the windows dark.
His phone stayed silent.
By evening, Nate had abandoned any pretense of working productively. The commission sketch lay half-finished, his usual attention to detail sacrificed to the anxious energy that kept him pacing between his easel and the window. Maple Walk settledinto its dinner-hour quiet, string lights flickering to life between the buildings as the last of the commuter traffic died away.
Then he saw him.
Ari stood in the bakery's doorway, looking across the street with that uncertain expression that had become so familiar. He raised his hand in their usual wave, but instead of the easy smile that typically accompanied the gesture, worry creased his features.
Nate remained at his desk.
The wave became more insistent, Ari stepping fully out onto the sidewalk. Still Nate didn't respond, though every instinct urged him to go to the window and fall back into their comfortable routine. Instead, he hunched over his sketchbook, pencil moving in meaningless circles as he fought the urge to look up again.
When he finally gave in, Ari was still there.
Their eyes met across the narrow street, and the distance felt vast. The joy that usually lit Ari's face when they spotted each other was replaced by something raw and troubled, an expression that confirmed Nate's suspicions.
Ari knew he'd been caught in a lie. And from the way his shoulders sagged, whatever secret he was keeping was bigger than a simple misunderstanding.
TWELVE
