Page 41 of Until the Storm Breaks (The Midnight Men #1)

The hostess lights up when she sees Calvin. “Mr. Midnight! Your brothers are already here. They’re at the chef’s table tonight.”

She leads us through the main dining room, weaving between tables, the smell of garlic and wine and something incredible wafting from the kitchen.

The chef’s table sits in view of the kitchen, close enough to see the controlled chaos of service but separated by a wall of glass.

It’s where Theo and Alex seat family, VIPs, and apparently, us.

“There they are,” Alex calls out as we approach, already standing with a grin that promises trouble. “The worst-kept secret in Dark River.”

“Subtle, Alex,” Theo says, but he’s smiling as he embraces me briefly, then grips Calvin’s hand in a firm shake that turns into a half-hug.

“Thanks for coming, Maren,” he says, pulling out my chair. “Both of you. I know this was last minute.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” I say, settling into the seat.

My hands won’t stop fidgeting with my napkin, which is ridiculous.

I’ve known Theo and Alex for years, they’re at my bar constantly, arguing about sports and leaving decent tips.

Theo and I practically share custody of Laila.

But sitting here as Calvin’s girlfriend, or whatever I am, while we all navigate the awkwardness of the cabin situation?

That’s new territory. Calvin’s knee presses against mine under the table, steady and reassuring.

“Wine?” Theo offers, holding up a bottle. “This is from that vineyard Mom loved up in Woodinville.”

“The one where she tried to convince them to name a wine after Dad?” Calvin asks, and his face softens at the memory.

“She brought his picture and everything,” Alex confirms, grinning. “Said ‘Hank’s Red’ had a nice ring to it.”

“The sommelier didn’t know how to tell her no,” Theo says, pouring generous glasses for everyone.

“She was so earnest about it,” Calvin adds, shaking his head, and suddenly they’re all laughing.

I sip the wine and feel the atmosphere shift. Calvin’s laughing, really laughing with his brothers, and the nervous energy we walked in with starts to fade. My own shoulders drop as I realize this might actually be okay. We might get through this dinner intact.

“So,” Alex says, leaning back in his chair with that troublemaker grin, water glass in hand. “How long has this been going on?” He gestures between Calvin and me with a piece of bread. “Because from what I hear, you two are the hot new couple of Dark River.”

Calvin laughs, his arm sliding along the back of my chair. “A little while now,” he says easily, fingers brushing my shoulder. “Though apparently we weren’t as subtle as we thought.”

“Betty at the post office told me she knew something was up when Calvin started smiling,” Alex says. “Said it was unnatural.”

“I smile,” Calvin says, mock-offended.

“Not like that you don’t,” Theo says, gesturing at Calvin’s face. “That’s what we’re talking about. That right there.”

“What?” Calvin demands.

“You look happy,” Alex says simply. “It’s weird on you.”

Calvin laughs and throws a piece of bread at him, which Alex catches easily. “Asshole.”

“But a correct asshole,” Alex grins.

“Anyway,” Theo says, turning to me with warmth in his eyes, “we’re really glad about this. About you two.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling Calvin’s thumb trace small circles on my shoulder.

“All right, enough embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend,” Calvin says, but he’s still smiling. “Can we order?”

“The night is young,” Alex grins.

A server appears at Theo’s elbow with menus. “Should I tell you about tonight’s specials?”

“Actually,” Theo glances at Alex, who nods almost imperceptibly, some silent brother communication passing between them. “What do you think about doing the tasting menu? If you’re up for it? It’s seven courses that Alex has been perfecting.”

“Sounds perfect,” Calvin says, looking at me for confirmation. “Maren?”

“Are you kidding? Yes,” I say, probably too eagerly. “I’ve been dying to try it. Eleanor came in last week and wouldn’t shut up about some beet thing Alex made that apparently changed her life.”

“The beet carpaccio with goat cheese mousse,” Alex says, clearly pleased. “That’s course three tonight, actually.”

“Then I’m definitely in,” I say, and Alex grins before heading toward the kitchen.

The courses start arriving almost immediately, each one somehow better than the last. An architectural salad with microgreens and edible flowers that’s almost too pretty to eat, followed by seared scallops with a brown butter sauce that makes me close my eyes to savor it.

A pasta with truffle cream that makes me reconsider everything I thought I knew about food.

Between the fourth and fifth courses, we’ve relaxed into trading stories.

Alex tells about the time Calvin got stuck on the roof trying to retrieve a frisbee and had to wait three hours for the fire department.

Calvin counters with Alex’s attempt to impress a girl by cooking dinner that ended with the smoke alarm and an evacuation.

Theo moderates like always, laughing at both of them while occasionally throwing in his own embarrassing memories about that disastrous family camping trip where they forgot the tent poles.

“Remember that vacation to the coast?” Alex says, wiping his eyes from laughing. “When Mom tried to convince us that hiking ten miles in the rain would be ‘character building?’”

“We all got so sick,” Calvin adds, shaking his head. “Even she admitted it was a mistake.”

“After we got home,” Theo corrects. “During the hike she kept insisting we were having fun.”

“‘Adventure is just discomfort viewed later with nostalgia,’” they all say in unison, clearly quoting Susan, and then they’re laughing again.

“Speaking of Mom,” Theo says when the laughter dies down, his expression shifting to something more serious.

He looks at me directly. “Maren, we wanted to apologize. About the way the whole housing situation has been handled. The cabins, the sale, you not knowing until it was basically done. It wasn’t right. ”

Calvin’s hand finds mine under the table, warm and steady. I can feel him wanting to jump in, to defend me, but he waits.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I say, and I mean it.

The truth is, I understand why things happened the way they did.

They were grieving, trying to manage an estate, dealing with Dominic’s legal authority.

It’s messy and complicated and there’s no villain here, just a difficult situation.

“I know you couldn’t really tell me before it was finalized. It’s a complicated situation.”

“It’s still not right,” Alex says, pushing his water glass in small circles on the table. “Mom would have hated this. The way it’s all gone down, I mean. She talked about you like family, and then we go and basically evict you without warning.”

“Two months isn’t eviction,” I point out, trying to lighten the mood slightly. “And honestly, maybe it’s time. I’ve been in that cabin for ten years. That’s a long time to be in such a small place. Originally it wasn’t supposed to be so permanent.”

But even as I say it and know there’s truth in it, my chest tightens. Ten years of morning coffee on that little porch while looking out at the Puget Sound, of watching the seasons change through those windows, of feeling safe in my small corner of the world.

“I still want to try to find a solution,” Calvin says, leaning forward slightly.

“I just can’t accept our childhood home being bulldozed for some wellness center.

And Maren losing her home in the process?

There has to be another way. Maybe we can negotiate with the buyers, carve out the cabins from the sale, something. ”

“Calvin, really, it’s okay,” I start, but he shakes his head.

“It’s not okay. None of this is okay. Mom and Dad built that house. We all grew up there. And you,” he looks at me, “you’ve made that cabin your home. You shouldn’t have to leave because some big company wants to build a meditation dome or whatever they’re planning.”

Theo and Alex exchange a look. Another one of those silent brother conversations that happens in milliseconds.

“Listen, Cal,” Theo says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “If you really want to try to stop this or change it, I’ll talk to Dom about delaying things. Maybe we can buy some time, see if there are other options.”

Calvin nods, his expression softening. “Thanks, Theo. That would help. Maybe if we both talk to him, he’ll at least consider alternatives. I know he’s got the legal authority, but he’s still our brother.”

“Good luck with that,” Alex says, not unkindly. “You know how he is once he’s made a decision.”

“I know,” Calvin says. “But I have to try.”

“Okay, enough heavy stuff,” Alex declares, pushing back from the table slightly. “We need dessert. Life’s too short to skip the sweet course, especially when Theo’s pastry chef is having a good week.”

“That sounds great,” I say, grateful for the shift.

Dessert arrives, a generous slice of tiramisu thick with mascarpone and espresso-soaked ladyfingers dusted with cocoa, alongside a blackberry lemon curd tart topped with fresh mint. I’m in heaven from the first bite.

As we’re finishing up and getting ready to leave, both brothers stop to hug me. Theo’s is gentle, careful, like he’s apologizing again for things he can’t fix. Alex’s threatens to crack ribs, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Thank you,” Theo says quietly while Alex is bear-hugging me. “For taking care of Mom. For being there when we couldn’t be. We all know how much you did those last few months.”

“For putting up with Calvin,” Alex adds, louder, setting me back down. “We know he’s difficult. Moody. Prone to brooding in corners and writing depressing things in notebooks.”

“I’m right here,” Calvin protests, but there’s no heat in it.

“We know,” his brothers say together, grinning with the synchronization of people who’ve been doing this routine their whole lives.

In the parking lot, Calvin helps me into the truck, his hand warm on my back.

“Thank you,” he says once he’s in the driver’s seat. “For tonight. For dealing with my brothers’ teasing.”

“They’re sweet,” I tell him. “And they love you. That’s obvious.”

“Yeah, well, they have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” But he’s smiling as he starts the truck.

“Take me home?” I ask, suddenly tired from the wine and the emotions and the rich food.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “Let’s go home.”

The drive back is quiet, but it’s a comfortable quiet. Calvin’s hand finds mine over the console, and I watch the familiar streets pass by. The harbor with its boats, the old church, the turnoff to the bar. I try not to think about how many more times we’ll make this drive together.

When we pull up to the property, Calvin doesn’t head to the cabins. Instead, he parks by the main house, the headlights sweeping across the front porch.

He leads me around to the side of the house, past the herb garden that’s gone wild without Susan to tend it, rosemary and thyme tangling together.

We stop at what used to be a construction zone, where the sunroom has been under development since he got here.

But when he opens the door, I gasp. It’s finished.

The room looks better than before the storm. New windows frame the view of the water perfectly. The water-damaged floors have been replaced with warm wood that gleams in the evening light. The built-in benches that got ruined have been rebuilt, painted the same soft white Susan always kept them.

“Calvin,” I breathe, looking around. “You fixed everything. It looks exactly like it did before. Maybe even better.”

“I tried to match what she had,” he says, running his hand along the new window frame. “The hardware store guy thought I was crazy, bringing in paint chips from the damaged wood to match exactly.”

“She loved this room,” I say, moving to the windows.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I wanted to finish it before Saturday. Before the memorial. I think I just needed it to be done. Even if I can’t save this house…”

He trails off, shaking his head, and we sit together in the chair that survived the water damage, the old leather one that was Hank’s, watching the last of the sunset through the new windows.

The house is quiet around us, and I can almost feel Susan here, pleased that her favorite room is whole again.

“It feels like once we do the memorial, she’s really gone,” I say quietly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his arms tightening around me. “Like we’re admitting it’s real.”

Later, inside, we get ready for bed with the easy rhythm of people who’ve been doing this longer than we have.

Calvin brushing his teeth while I wash my face, me changing while he checks his phone for messages from Seattle he’s been ignoring, both of us ending up in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Thank you,” I say into the darkness. “For tonight. For your brothers. For the sunroom. For everything.”

“Thank you,” he says back, pulling me against him. “For taking a chance on this. On us.”

I fall asleep listening to his heartbeat, trying not to think about how many more nights we have. Trying not to count. Trying to just be here, now, in this moment that feels perfect even though everything around us is uncertain.