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He looks at me for a long moment, his expression crumbling. And then he says it—voice raw, eyes glassy.

“I love you, Laney.”

My heart stops.

“I am so—so—in love with you, and I don’t even know how to breathe at the thought of leaving you.”

My lips tremble as I cup his face, fingers framing the man who has turned my world inside out. “I feel it too,” I whisper. “I feel you in every part of me. I think I’ve been falling since the moment you looked at me like I wasn’t invisible.”

His forehead presses to mine. His lips brush mine. And then he just holds me there, still inside me, still wrapped around me like I’m something he can’t afford to lose.

And I hold him back.

Because I feel the exact same way.

25.Eddie

The little Italianplace is tucked into a quiet corner of the village like it doesn’t want to be found. No signs, no flashing lights—just a plain wooden door, a hanging, vine-covered lantern, and the soft scent of garlic and baked dough drifting out into the night. The kind of place Nico’s family has probably owned since before half the buildings in this town were upright.

Inside, it’s warm. Familiar. Brick walls, low lighting, a wood-burning oven still glowing at the back. Every table has a bottle of red already breathing on it. And in the far corner, in the booth that always gets held when Nico’s in town, the five of us are crammed in and loud as hell.

Laney’s curled under my arm, her head tucked into my shoulder like it belongs there—and it does. She’s laughing at something Sam said, while Lucas and Sam are bickering across the table like it’s a contact sport.

“I’m just saying,” Sam insists, twirling her fork through her pasta, “nobody keeps emergency condiments in the glove box unless they’re a full-blown psychopath.”

Lucas blinks. “It was one packet of sriracha.”

“One?” Sam scoffs. “I found six. And two soy sauce, a mystery mayo, and a fortune cookie.”

Laney snorts beside me. “A fortune cookie?”

Lucas shrugs. “You never know when the universe is trying to talk to you.”

Nico leans back, sipping his espresso, his expression dry. “If you listen to fortune cookies, I have so many concerns.”

“You’ve had worse ideas,” Lucas fires back.

“True,” Nico admits, and just like that, the table explodes into laughter again.

It’s easy. Comfortable. Home.

We don’t get this often—me and Lucas and Nico all in the same place. Not with everything that pulls us in different directions. But when we do, it’s like no time’s passed at all.

Nico’s got that usual calm, controlled look—three-piece charcoal suit, dark shirt open at the collar, Rolex glinting under the low light. He always looks like he’s walked out of a magazine and possibly also a mafia war council, which… isn’t far off.

He’s guarded, always has been, the kind of man who doesn’t speak unless it matters. But when he does speak, you listen. Especially if you’re one of the few people he lets in.

Which Lucas and I are. Always have been.

“So,” Nico says, his gaze cutting over the table. “The donor event. That’s still on for London?”

Lucas nods, suddenly all business. “Yeah. Week two. Finalizing venue details, but the press is coming together. We’ve got a couple of hospital partners and a radio spot locked.”

Sam adds, “We’ve had a huge jump in pre-registrations for kidney screening. The buzz is picking up.”

Laney beams beside me, glowing with pride. She’s the reason this event even exists. Her work, her heart—it’s in every detail.

Nico tips his glass toward her. “Well done, Laney.”