"Get dressed," Edward said.
I blinked at him from the doorway, still in my robe. "What do you mean get dressed?"
"We're going out."
"No," I replied instantly. "Absolutely not."
He leaned against the doorframe, completely unbothered. "It's lunch, Leah. Not a marriage proposal."
"Lunch is dangerous."
"That's dramatic."
"It's true," I snapped. "Public is messy. Public is… stupid."
He raised a brow. "So you're scared someone will see us?"
"Of course I'm scared someone will see us!"
He pushed away from the frame and walked inside, stopping right in front of me. "Why? Because you think your ex-husband is hiding behind every napkin dispenser?"
"This isn't funny, Edward."
He softened. "I didn't say it was."
I crossed my arms tightly. "We agreed rules."
"You love those rules, don't you?"
"They keep things simple."
"Nothing about us is simple."
"Exactly my point."
He sighed, brushing a finger under my chin like he always knew how to disarm me.
"It's one lunch," he murmured. "One."
"Why?" I whispered. "Why do you want to take me anywhere? What's the point?"
His answer was so soft I almost missed it.
"Because I want to be seen with you."
My heart did something stupid something warm and sharp and terrifying.
"Edward…"
"No," he cut in gently. "Don't overthink. Don't panic. Just… have lunch with me."
He held out his hand.
I stared at it for a long, stupid second.
I should've said no.
I should've closed the door in his annoyingly handsome face.
I should've remembered who he was, who I was, what we were doing.
But I stepped forward and put my hand in his.
His grip tightened, triumphant and warm.
"I hate you," I muttered.
"You'll forgive me when you taste the food," he said smugly.
I wore something simple.
Black jeans. A fitted top. A jacket that made me feel slightly less vulnerable.
But the moment I walked out and caught him looking at me, I felt like I'd made the worst mistake of my life.
His eyes dragged down my body slowly. Hunger. Admiration. Something deeper.
"Beautiful," he said.
"Stop," I whispered.
He smiled. "No."
We drove in silence. Pleasant silence. Dangerous silence.
The kind that made me too aware of him.
The way his hand rested casually on the gear.
The way his eyes flicked toward me at every red light.
The way he smirked when he caught me staring at his jawline.
"Do you ever not stare?" he teased.
"I wasn't staring."
"You were."
"Was not."
He chuckled. "You have a terrible poker face."
"I don't care."
"You do."
I looked out the window. "Edward, this is a terrible idea."
"And yet you're here."
I didn't respond.
Because he was right.
He picked a small upscale restaurant.
Not loud, not crowded, not flashy.
Something almost intimate.
We sat at a small table by the window.
I kept my eyes on the menu even though I couldn't read a single word.
Edward leaned across the table. "Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"No, you're sitting like someone's threatening your family."
I glared. "I don't go on dates. Ever."
"This isn't a date."
"It feels like a date."
"Does that scare you?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't deny it either."
I snapped the menu shut. "Edward. Stop digging."
He held up his hands. "Alright. Fine. No digging."
The waitress came. He ordered for us confident, effortless, like he'd done this with me a thousand times.
When she left, he reached for my hand across the table.
I yanked it back so fast I nearly knocked over the water glass.
"Leah." He chuckled. "Relax."
"Stop saying that."
He rested his chin on one hand, studying me like I was a puzzle he enjoyed solving.
"You're cute when you're panicking."
"I'm not panicking."
"You are."
"Edward."
"Leah."
I groaned. "Why did I agree to this?"
He smirked. "Because you missed me."
"I did not"
He cut me off with a look.
That look.
The one that said he knew exactly what I felt even when I didn't say it.
The truth burned in my throat, so I took a sip of water instead.
Halfway through lunch, something shifted.
The tension the frantic, nervous kind eased a little.
We talked.
He teased me about my coffee addiction.
I mocked him for being annoyingly perfect at everything.
He laughed. That deep, warm laugh that hit me low in my stomach.
At one point, he said, "You're fun."
"No one's ever described me as fun."
"Then they've been blind."
I blushed.
Actually blushed.
"Stop flattering me," I muttered.
"I'm not flattering you," he said softly. "I'm telling the truth."
The sincerity in his voice hit me harder than the flirting.
Suddenly it wasn't just lunch.
It was something dangerously close to normal.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Something we were absolutely not supposed to have.
When the check came, I grabbed for it.
He moved faster.
"Edward—"
"It's lunch," he said. "I invited you."
"That doesn't mean you get to pay for everything."
He leaned close, voice dropping. "Let me do this."
My heart thudded stupidly.
I sat back, defeated.
He smiled like he'd just won something important.
⸻
We stepped outside.
The sun hit his face, making him look unreal jaw sharp, eyes bright, lips curved in that dangerous almost-smile.
He walked toward me.
"Leah."
"Don't," I warned.
"Don't what?"
"Don't kiss me."
He smirked. "I wasn't going to."
I exhaled in relief too early.
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek.
"That wasn't a kiss."
My breath caught.
"Edward…"
"I like being out with you," he murmured.
"Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it means something."
"It does."
My eyes snapped to his. "Edward"
"It means," he continued softly, "that I enjoy your company. That I like hearing you talk. That I want more time with you."
Everything inside me froze.
My pulse, my breath, my thoughts.
He smiled gently. "Is that so terrifying?"
"Yes."
He laughed under his breath. "Too honest?"
"Way too honest."
He took my hand just for a moment squeezing gently before letting it go.
"You'll get used to it."
"No," I whispered. "I won't."
But as we walked toward the car, our shoulders brushing, my body betraying me with every step…
I knew the truth I refused to say aloud:
I already was.