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Brynn smiled around a fork loaded with pasta. “I didn’t realize your appreciation for food fully until you sent me an entire letter that served as an ode to homemade garlic croutons.”

“Don’t you dare buy the boxed ones.”

“Well, I won’t after that impassioned letter. The guilt.”

“My work is done.”

They sat at that small table well past the meal, sipping the glass of wine, and then a cup of coffee, and then more than a few glasses of water just talking. Brynn held tightly to every moment. She loved hearing Aster express herself, give her take on things. And this time, she rejoiced in the knowledge that she didn’t have to police herself around Aster, turn off her attraction, or chastise herself for her feelings. At long last, she could celebrate what had been building steadily. No regret involved.

“Speaking of chefs, some of my old classmates are getting together tonight after the kitchens close down, something we do regularly to keep in touch. It’s at my friend Mitchell’s apartment.”

“The one you wrote has the obsession with heirloom tomatoes in food.”

Aster laughed. “You have a good memory.”

“I pay attention to what you say is all. I would love to meet your chef friends.”

“Really?” Aster inflated. “Should be good food. Lots of leftovers from the best kitchens across Boston.”

Brynn sat back, still full from lunch. “In that case, we should skip dinner.”

“That’s not in my DNA.”

“Oh. You’re really cute in your staunch defense of mealtime.”

She glanced at the table and back up at Brynn. “Yeah, well, when I find something to love, I don’t let go.”

Brynn felt drunk on those words, picking up on Aster’s insinuation but playing it cool.

“I’m really happy you’re here.” Aster placed her hand on Brynn’s knee beneath the table, just like she’d done at the hotel bar the night before. The weight of that hand grounded her. She exhaled. She could get used to this. Good conversation. Fantastic sex. Kindness.

“I’m happy I got on that plane.” She paused. “It wasn’t easy. You’re more than a little scary for me.”

Aster nodded. “I wondered about that part.”

“The last time I went all in, it about destroyed me. And you? Well, you inspire a lot in here.” She touched her chest. “It overtakes me sometimes.”

“Which is why it took a while for you to succumb to my mad game.”

Brynn laughed. “I will say, your game has come a long way from the first day we met and you could barely look me in the eye.”

“You were out of my league. You still are. You should go. Ditch me.”

She covered Aster’s hand on her knee. “Nope. I still haven’t seen Dill.”

“Want to?”

“Yes.”

The afternoon was a languid one, mostly spent on the floor of Aster’s apartment with the dog they’d once stayed up all night to save. Playful and still showing his youth, Dill danced around them, darting forward and then back again. “You never get tired, do you?” Brynn asked the adorable dog.

“He can run fifty laps around the perimeter of the dog park and then passes out in the car.” Dill offered Aster’s face a lick in agreement as if to stay,Yep. I do that. He ran circles around them, tossing his stuffed bone in the air and chasing it. A happy guy, content to just play and love and be a silly dog. The best kind, really. All because Aster had taken a bike ride that day.

“What are you thinking about?” Aster asked, looking up at Brynnfrom where she lay on the floor. Her dark hair was fanned out around her. She had her flirtatious eyes on. That was the thing about them—a mundane activity was still laced with an undercurrent of heat. She wondered now if it had always been that way between them. She was pretty sure it had. With other relationships, the feelings were a lot more even-keeled. She and Aster hummed. Always. Life would never be uninteresting. Who knew how satisfying this level of affection could be? Why had she run from it?

“I’m thinking about the past. You. Dill. Us.”

“I feel like he knows you helped save him.” Dill placed two paws on Brynn’s shoulders, stared into her face, and offered a tail wag before he was on his way again.