Page 44 of ICED
“So,” he says after a few bites, “Lila told me this morning she’s going to teach me how to make cupcakes that sparkle.”
“They need glitter,” she explains, mouth full. “Pink glitter. And blue sprinkles. And hearts.”
“That sounds dangerously cute,” he says. “I might need a training montage to prepare.”
I laugh, and he catches the sound like it’s something precious. There’s that look again, the one that hits me too hard and too fast.
He reaches for the syrup, and when our hands brush, I don’t pull away. Neither does he.
Something shifts. Quietly, but undeniably.
His fingers are warm. Steady. I let mine linger. Just a second too long.
Lila’s busy building a whipped cream mountain, so she doesn’t notice the way our hands settle together on the table. He turns his palm slightly, inviting mine in, and I let it rest there. Lightly. Tentatively. But it’s there.
He looks at me, and his voice drops a little. “You okay?”
I nod. “Better than okay.”
And I mean it.
After breakfast, we walk through the nearby park. Lila skips ahead, chasing pigeons and narrating a dramatic soap opera involving three ducks and a chip bag.
The air is crisp, but his hand is still holding mine. He grabbed my hand to steady me as we left the café when I stumbled on the step, and he hasn’t let go since.
It shouldn’t feel this natural. This easy. But it does.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, as we pause near the swings. “For the tickets. For breakfast. For being... like this.”
His thumb brushes my knuckles. “Like what?”
I shrug. “Kind. Steady. Not in a hurry.”
He watches Lila chase a pigeon like it owes her money. “You don’t need someone in a hurry, Maya. You need someone who’ll wait at your pace.”
I blink at him. That lump forms in my throat again, annoying and emotional.
He notices. Of course he does.
“I mean it,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I squeeze his hand. Just once. Just enough to say,I believe you.
Lila calls for us to push her on the swings, and Owen jogs ahead to get her started, letting her kick off into the air with a laugh that fills the whole park.
I stay back, watching them. Him. This big, gentle man, the size of a fridge freezer, who somehow slid into our lives like he’d always belonged there.
Maybe he does.
Maybe I’m finally ready to let him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
JACKO
Lila’s laugh echoes through the park like a song I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. She kicks her legs wildly, hair flying behind her as I steady the swing. She’s fearless. Wild. Full of sunshine and whipped cream.
Maya stands a few feet away, hands in her coat pockets, eyes soft in the Sunday light. She looks tired in that way mums always seem to, like she’s been holding up the entire world with one hand, but there’s something lighter around her edges today. Something less braced for impact.
