“Yeah. Elias is checking in.”

I nod, trying not to overthink it. But my brain, being my brain, runs with it anyway—because I know this man. And something is off. Not bad, but different. And I can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s not telling me.

Dinner at Le Rue is perfect in every kind of way. The food is rich and ridiculous and full of things I can’t pronounce, let alone order with confidence. I fumble with the food on the menu and Alex leans over, taps the corner of the page. “You’ll love this one—trust me.”

I do. And of course he’s right. Somehow, he orders all my favorites. He’s good like that—quietly observant, always three steps ahead, a man who listens.

He pours the wine, calm and unhurried. At one point, he slides a fork across the table, offering me a bite of something from his plate. I don’t even ask what it is—I open my mouth and let him feed it to me, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine.

I swallow, arch a brow, and murmur, “Careful, Sebring. Keep this up and I’m gonna think you’re trying to seduce me over duck confit.”

He grins like he is. “Is it working?”

His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, soft and possessive, like he can’t help reaching for me. And all of it is making me crazy.

But I want more. And lately, I’ve been waiting for the big question. Hoping for it. Craving it.

I want to bring it up—our future, what we said we wanted, what we promised each other that night in Dallas. But I can’t quite find the nerve.

Not here. Not now. Not when I’ve told myself he’ll ask when he’s ready.

Alex watches me for a beat. “You’re quiet tonight. Is everything okay? You feeling all right?”

I smile, probably a little too quickly. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He doesn’t push. Just gives my hand a light squeeze and flags down the check with a nod.

A few minutes later, we’re stepping out into the golden spill of early evening. The air is thick with the scent of salt and honeysuckle, and Alex slips his hand into mine again.

“Take a walk with me? I enjoy using my new ankle every chance I get since it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“A walk sounds perfect.”

It’s warm as we stroll through Waterfront Park, the breeze carrying salt and laughter and something else I can’t name. Golden light spills across the harbor, soft and honeyed, wrapping the world in that kind of glow that makes everything look like it has a filter on it—too perfect to be real, too beautiful to capture in a photo.