Page 76 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Like what?"
"How to be seen. Be... real. With someone." I swallow hard. "I've spent so many years hiding behind shapewear and shadows and carefully angled photos that I don't know how to just... exist in my body."
"Then we'll figure it out together." He cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek. "Because I'm not going anywhere, and I'm sure as hell not letting you hide from me again."
"That's presumptuous."
"That's a promise." He kisses me, soft and thorough, until my knees go weak again. "Now come on. Let me feed you breakfast before I have to pretend to be a responsible adult at the office."
CHAPTER 21
Caleb
She's wearing my Harvard t-shirt and it's doing things to me.
Serena's perched on my kitchen barstool, drowning in my clothes, hair still damp from the shower, and she looks more stunning than any woman has a right to. Not because she's perfect—she's not, and that's the fucking point—but because she's here. In my kitchen. Instead of rushing out the door.
"How do you even work this thing?" She's examining my coffee machine like it's a spacecraft.
"Years of practice and a YouTube tutorial I'll never admit to watching." I move behind her, reaching around to hit the right buttons. "Latte?"
"God, yes."
The domesticity hits like a warm surge. I’ve never wanted anyone in my space like this. I want to freeze the frame—her in my t-shirt, steam curling off her mug—and label it on the back:start of something real.
While the machine works its magic, I watch her explore my kitchen with curious fingers, touching the marble countertops,the overpriced knife block I never use, the fruit bowl that's purely decorative.
"This place is ridiculous," she says. "Your kitchen is bigger than my entire living area. Maybe my whole apartment."
"I went through a phase where I thought I'd learn to cook."
"And?"
"And I learned I'm excellent at making reservations."
She laughs, and the sound fills the room better than any of the expensive art on the walls. This is what I want—her laughter in my kitchen, her presence making this sterile penthouse feel like an actual home.
My phone buzzes. Logan. I ignore it.
"Shouldn't you get that?" she asks.
"No." I hand her the latte.
"It could be important."
"Nothing's more important than this."
She rolls her eyes. "You can't just ignore the world because we had sex."
"We didn't just have sex." I move between her knees, needing to be closer. "We had a breakthrough."
Her cheeks flush. "Caleb?—"
"Serena."
She shakes her head, but the smile she's fighting is real. She wears it warily, like it might betray her. "Do you ever turn it off?" she asks, meaning the relentless charm, the confidence, the way I make everything about us sound like cosmic inevitability.
"The short answer is no." I lean in, nuzzling the patch of collarbone peeking from under my ancient Harvard tee. "But honestly, there's not much I want to turn off about what just happened."
