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I clear my throat, forcing a lightness into my voice that I don’t feel. “I’m just focused on the clinic right now. That’s all.”
Stella sighs, unconvinced but merciful enough to let it drop. “Fine. Stay in denial. But when he kisses you again and you don’t pull away? Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”
She winks, then turns back to the clipboard, talking about shelving options like she didn’t just crack me wide open.
I nod along, but my mind is elsewhere on Bryan’s voice drifting from the kitchen, on the way my heart kicked when he looked at me, on the way Stella’s words cling like salt to my skin.
She’s right. I am falling for him again. And I don’t know what to do about it.
***
The living room glows golden with the fading afternoon sun, stretching long, warm streaks across the wooden floor. Buddy thumps his tail lazily against the couch, completely unbothered by the world, and for a moment, everything is still. Peaceful.
And then Bryan walks in, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. I raise a brow immediately, already suspicious. “What?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he drops a box onto the coffee table with a loose ribbon tied around it.
“Got you something,” he says, nodding toward it.
I blink, glancing at the package, then back at him. Bryan isn’t the random gift-giving type. Sure, he’s been sweet unbelievably so these past few weeks but this? It feels different. Intentional.
I hesitate. “What is this?”
He shrugs, too casual. “Open it and see.”
A part of me wants to refuse. Because accepting gifts from Bryan feels dangerous. Feels like giving in to something I’m still terrified to name. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I carefully pull the ribbon free, lifting the lid. Soft blue fabric spills over my fingers.
My breath catches as I lift the dress from the box, light, elegant, beautiful. A pair of matching heels sit underneath, delicate but practical enough that I won’t break my neck wearing them.
“Bryan… I can’t accept this.” My voice wavers as I shake my head. “This is too much.”
His eyes soften. “It’s not too much. It’s part of the night. Please?”
There’s something about the way he says it, something almost nervous in his tone that has me faltering. This isn’t just a dress. It’s an invitation, into whatever tonight is supposed to be.
And I want to know what that is. I exhale, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Where are we going?”
His smirk returns. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”
Those words undo me. Because for the first time in years, I do. So, I swallow my hesitation, grab the box, and head upstairs.
By the time I emerge, the dress hugs me perfectly. It’s like it was made for me, skimming just above my knees, floating like something out of a dream. I barely recognize myself in the mirror, and for the first time in a long time, I feel beautiful.
When I step back into the living room, Bryan’s eyes widen and I think I see his jaw drop, just a bit.
His gaze sweeps over me, slow, appreciative, and my skin heats under the attention. He doesn’t say anything at first, just takes me in, and when he finally steps forward, offering his arm, my heart stumbles.
“Shall we?”
I almost laugh at his formality, but I slip my hand into the crook of his arm anyway, ignoring the flutter in my stomach when my fingers graze solid muscle.
Bryan, for his part, looks unbelievable. A crisp button-up stretches across broad shoulders, his usual scruff neatly trimmed. His hair is combed back, but still messy enough to be undeniably him. And the scent of cedar and something subtly sweet clings to him, pulling me in before I can stop myself.
As we step out onto the porch, I let the words slip before I can stop them. “You clean up nice.”
He smirks, eyes flicking to me. “I was about to say the same thing.”
When the car finally pulls up to the restaurant, my breath catches.