Page 78 of Meet Me In The Dark

She shakes her head. “Enjoy the challenge of figuring someone out who clearly doesn’t want to be figured out. Obsession? Attraction? Call it whatever you like. But from everything you’ve said, you findCeleste fascinating.”

“Fascinating.” I bark a humorless laugh. “That’s one word for her.”

“She’s making you uncomfortable, pushing your boundaries. That’s exactly the kind of thing someone like you needs.”

“Someone like me?”

“A man who’s gotten too comfortable controlling every outcome. Celeste seems to defy control, and that terrifies you.”

I stare at her silently for a beat, then two, before standing. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“Same time next week?”

“Fuck it,” I mutter. “Why not?”

Outside her office, I pull out my phone, hoping for a distraction. Instead, I see an unread email from Celeste. It’s a short, polite note about the construction timeline.

I read it four times.

Yeah.

I’m definitely fucking obsessed.

Twenty-Four

Celeste

Julian is officially the most stubborn man alive.

I’ve lost count of how long he’s been running with me, but it’s every damn morning, Monday to Friday. This was supposed to be my peaceful morning routine. My zen time. Instead, it’s turned into a weird, silent game of chicken.

And every day, he inches closer. At this rate, next week he’ll be running in my sports bra.

Music hums in my left ear, and only my left ear because Julian has taken permanent ownership of my other earbud. On my right, the steady rhythm of his breathing matches my pace as if he’s synced himselfjust to annoy me.

I should hate it, but it’s stupidly comforting.

We don’t talk because I know how that goes. One word leads to ten, ten leads to lingering glances, and lingering glances lead straight to a disaster I’m not naming.

So I keep quiet, praying he’ll get bored and leave me to run in peace.

He never does.

We round the bend into the park just as the sun edges over the trees.

I always love this time of the day.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t.

Something shifts on a distant bench. Two bodies, to be exact.

“Are they—”

“Yep.” Julian cuts me off. “They’re fucking.”

My jaw drops.