Page 24

"Just... don't let him get to you," I said, the reassurance feeling thin even to my own ears.

Caleb's jaw tightened. "I didn't like his tone just now. Or what he was implying. Like he knows something."

A familiar knot of unease twisted in my own stomach. "He's probably just trying to rattle us. He's good at that game."

Caleb didn't look convinced, but he let the subject drop as I gathered our lunch wrappers. "I should let you get back to work. The lunch rush will be starting soon."

As he stood to leave, I noticed the discreet shopping bag still sitting untouched beside his chair. "You forgot one."

"No, that's—" He cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness in his movements as he nudged a smaller, velvet box towards me. "That's actually for you. No occasion, just... I saw it and thought of you."

My heart gave a startled jump. Inside, nestled on black satin, a delicate diamond pendant caught the light, sparkling with quiet elegance. This was... significant. "Caleb," I began, my voice a little thin. "I... I can't accept this. This is too much. Our arrangement—"

He cut me off gently, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It's just a necklace, Riley. I genuinely thought you'd like it. Consider it... a gesture of appreciation." He held my gaze, his eyes warm and steady, conveying a sincerity that belied the gift's potential implications.

The diamond glinted, undeniably beautiful. And undeniably expensive for a relationship that was, on paper, purely transactional. But his sincerity chipped away at my resolve.

"Even so, It's incredibly thoughtful. And I love it," I murmured, standing on tiptoe to press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.

His smile was warm as he squeezed my hand. "I'll see you at home."

Home . Such a simple word, yet so complicated between us. Because the truth was, the penthouse had begun to feel like home in a way I'd never anticipated—not for its sprawling luxury or the glittering city view, but for the quiet comfort and unexpected connection I found sharing it with him.

After the lunch rush, as I cleaned up, I found a small, familiar earring box tucked beneath the table—Megan's, undoubtedly. One of the servers must have dislodged it. I slipped it safely into my bag, planning to return it when I got 'home.'

The afternoon and dinner service passed in a blur of activity. Hat Trick was busier than ever, the dining room consistently full from opening to closing. By the time I left, snowflakes were falling more heavily, transforming Boston into a winter wonderland.

When I entered the penthouse, the sound of music led me to the kitchen. I paused in the doorway, struck by the unexpected sight before me.

Caleb stood barefoot at the stove, wearing worn sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, stirring something in a pan. He moved with surprising confidence, periodically tasting his creation and adjusting seasonings. He hadn't noticed me yet, and I took a moment to simply observe him.

When he finally turned and saw me, his pleased smile sent warmth cascading through me. "Hey, your timing is perfect. Come taste this."

I approached, watching as he dipped a spoon into what appeared to be some kind of sauce. "What are you making?"

"I'm trying to recreate that sauce from the Thai place last week," he explained, offering me the spoon. "The one you said had lemongrass and something else I couldn't identify."

I accepted the sample, surprised by the complexity of flavors. "Galangal," I supplied. "It's like ginger but more citrusy." I tasted again, impressed. "This is really good."

"Really?" His expression brightened. "I've been experimenting for an hour."

"It's almost perfect," I said, reaching past him for the reduced-sodium soy sauce. My arm brushed his as I added a few drops to the pan. "Try it now."

He tasted again, eyes widening. "That's it! That's exactly what it needed." He looked at me with such open admiration that I felt my cheeks warm. "How do you do that? One ingredient and it's transformed."

"Years of practice," I said, oddly pleased by his enthusiasm. "And a good palate, which you clearly have too."

We moved around the kitchen with practiced ease as he finished the stir-fry he'd prepared. I automatically retrieved plates while he turned off the burner, our movements synchronized in a domestic dance that felt natural.

As we sat at the kitchen island to eat, I remembered the earring box. "Oh, you left something at the restaurant today." I produced the velvet box from my bag. "It fell under the table."

"Thanks." He looked relieved as he pocketed it. "That would have been a disaster to lose."

A comfortable silence fell as we ate, broken only by my occasional compliments on his cooking. Finally, I broached the subject we'd left unfinished earlier.

"About Christmas," I began, setting down my fork. "I'd like to go to Minnesota with you. If the invitation includes me, that is."

His expression brightened immediately. "Of course it does. My mom's been asking what you'd like to eat, actually." He hesitated. "What about your family? Should we try to visit them too?"

I shook my head. "My parents are joining Danny at a tournament in Quebec.

It's a rare opportunity for them to see him play at that level, and they understand I can't close the restaurant for that long.

" It wasn't the whole truth—I also hadn't wanted to navigate complex explanations of my marriage during the holidays with my perceptive parents.

"Are you sure? We could probably arrange something if you wanted to see them."

His thoughtfulness touched me. "I'm sure. We'll do a video call on Christmas morning. It's our tradition when we can't be together."

Caleb nodded, but I could see concern lingering in his eyes. "You won't feel bad about missing them?"

"I'll miss them," I admitted. "But I'm looking forward to experiencing a Matthews family Christmas." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Your mom already warned me about your dad's eggnog. Apparently, it could strip paint."

Caleb laughed. "It's lethal. One cup and you'll be singing carols until New Year's." His expression grew more serious. "I'm glad you're coming. It wouldn't have felt right without you there."

The honesty in his voice made my heart trip over itself. Before I could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "It's Diane. I should take this."

I nodded, rising to clear our plates while he answered. From his side of the conversation, I gathered something was wrong. His responses grew increasingly terse, his posture tightening with each exchange.

When he finally ended the call, his expression was grim. "That was Diane," he confirmed. "She's been hearing some disturbing rumors."

"About what?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"About us." Caleb ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd learned indicated stress. "Specifically, about the authenticity of our marriage."

My stomach dropped. "Vincent?"

Caleb nodded. "Diane says he has connections to a sports blogger known for breaking scandal stories. He's apparently fishing for confirmation, offering significant money for evidence."

"Evidence of what, exactly?" My voice sounded distant to my own ears.

"That our marriage is a contract rather than a relationship." Caleb's eyes met mine. "Diane doesn't think he has anything concrete yet, just suspicions. But after today..."

"He's clearly looking for something to use against us," I finished, leaning heavily against the counter. "What do we do?"

Caleb crossed to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "First, we don't panic. Vincent is fishing, nothing more." His grip was warm and reassuring. "Second, we continue exactly as we have been. There's nothing to find because—" He paused, something shifting in his expression.

"Because what?" I prompted when he didn't continue.

"Because we're not just pretending anymore, are we?" he said quietly.

The question hung between us, loaded with all the unspoken feelings that had been building for months. I couldn't find the words to agree or disagree, my heart beating too rapidly in my chest.

Caleb seemed to understand my silence, squeezing my shoulders gently before releasing me. "Try not to worry about Vincent. Diane is already working on counterstrategies if he tries anything."

I nodded, grateful for the retreat from emotional territory neither of us seemed ready to fully explore. "Okay."

Later that evening, while Caleb reviewed game footage in the living room, my phone chimed with a text from Zoe.

It contained a link to an article about an international culinary competition in Paris.

Applications were due next month for the event, which could provide unparalleled exposure for participants.

You HAVE to apply for this, Zoe's message read. It's exactly what you've been working toward since culinary school.

I clicked the link, excitement building as I read the details. The competition was prestigious, featuring chefs from around the world, with judges from international restaurants and food publications. Winning—or even placing—could put Hat Trick on the international culinary map.

Then I noticed the dates.

The competition fell during the Blizzard's final regular-season push, a critical time when Caleb's captaincy performance would be under scrutiny. My absence would raise questions about our relationship, potentially undermining everything we'd built.

I glanced across the room to where Caleb had fallen asleep on the couch, game notes scattered around him. His face was relaxed in sleep, vulnerable in a way it never was when he was awake. Something in my chest tightened at the sight.

I'll think about it, I texted Zoe back, then closed the link without responding further.

I set my phone aside, disturbed by how automatically I'd prioritized our arrangement over my professional aspirations.

Yet as I looked at Caleb again, I acknowledged the truth—it wasn't just about the contract anymore.

My reluctance to pursue the Paris opportunity stemmed equally from not wanting to disrupt what was developing between us, whatever that might be.

I moved quietly to the couch, gently removing the tablet from Caleb's lap. He stirred slightly as I draped a blanket over him but didn't wake. On impulse, I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering against his skin.

"What are we doing?" I whispered, though there was no one to hear the question.

Only the soft sound of Caleb's breathing answered me as I retreated to our bedroom, leaving him sleeping on the couch with game notes scattered around him, my heart increasingly tangled in something that had never been part of our original deal.