She comes around and rubs my back. Resting her head on my shoulder, she whispers, “What caused his anger?”

“Probably the same thing that caused mine.”

“Your aunt?”

Angling to the side, I kiss her forehead and then spin around in the chair. Settling her on my lap, I run my hand over her thigh, admiring her pretty eyes. She sees me, the real me, and shines a light on the darkest parts of my life. “Lucas and I had grown apart. He was my best friend, but I didn’t recognize him anymore. Weed can be fun occasionally, but he’d moved on from that, and I just wanted off that ride.”

“What changed?”

“I was fighting with family, my grades had turned to shit, and I was borderline about to be kicked out of the University. Talks were happening.” I scrub over my chin and the few days of growth shadowing my jawline. “The fun times weren’t so fun anymore.” Her hand replaces mine, but her soft touch is soothing.

“Your family cares about you, Harbor. They wouldn’t be in talks if they didn’t. I don’t know them well, or at all, but I’ve been to enough events in The Pointe to know they’re special. They’re not like the others.”

I take her hands between mine and look into her eyes. Stardust embodies her green eyes, the romantic heart seen so clearly in the coloring. She allows me to open my heart and pour my sorrows on her lap. I’ve been so fucking selfish, almost letting her day slip unnoticed. “Why did you quit your job?” I ask, brushing my fingertips over the exposed skin of her shoulder.

She shifts, and as if the pot called her name, she’s drawn to it. Turning the knob off, she says, “I think it’s ready.”

I stand and come around to get the plates out of the cabinet. “And I think you’re avoiding the question.”

Stopping with the spoon in her hands, she seems to think about it, and then with what she was doing. “I think our night is full already. My problems can wait for another day.”

I set the plates on the island and dig through the silverware drawer, trying not to put a spotlight on the issue but hoping she’ll want to share. I feel better than I have forever. I want her to feel the same.

Lark starts plating the food like she’s a real chef. It looks as good as it smells, so maybe she has another career in her if medical school doesn’t pan out. Placing the peas in a perfect line with deft precision, she says, “I quit because one of the ladies at the brunch said her purse was worth more than my life.” Standing up, she looks proud of her creation. “Voilà,” she adds like what she just said prior isn’t worth a second thought.

Sliding my arm around the small of her back, I kiss her cheek. “Looks amazing. You did good, baby.”