Chapter 4

The last of the jazz trio had packed up their instruments, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the earlier clamor of clinking glasses and polite laughter. The rooftop restaurant, usually a hive of Sunday brunch energy, was now dimmed, the ambient lighting shifted from bright, cheerful yellows to a sultry, intimate amber. The mimosa bar, which had been a chaotic centerpiece of bubbles and fruit earlier, stood like a monument to the evening’s excess, empty flutes scattered across the marble counter like fallen soldiers. I sat in the private nook we had claimed as the crowd thinned, a secluded corner tucked behind a tall, leafy potted fern that separated us from the main floor. The glass walls offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, the skyscrapers twinkling like distant stars, but I couldn’t look at them. My entire world had narrowed down to the man sitting across from me, his tailored suit jacket discarded over the back of his chair, his cuffs rolled up to reveal forearms that I had been dying to trace with my fingers all night. He looked relaxed, but I knew better. I knew the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes