August POV:
Again, they were all gathered for dinner.
His mother always insisted.
"No matter how hard your day was, it can wait. This table comes first."
The long wooden table was filled, roasted chicken, shrimp, bowls of salad, warm bread, laughter already bouncing off the walls.
Malcolm, August younger brother, was halfway through stealing shrimp from Liam's plate.
"Malcolm! Stop eating my shrimps!" Liam protested loudly.
"I'm protecting you from seafood poisoning," Malcolm replied smoothly, popping one into his mouth.
"Pass me the salad," His dad said calmly, cutting into his chicken.
August reached across, scooping some onto Liam's plate instead. "Eat this first."
Liam groaned dramatically. "Daddy…"
"Salad first," August said, firm but amused.
His mother watched all of it with quiet satisfaction. This was how she liked her sons, loud, seated, together.
Then Liam, mouth half full, looked up.
"Daddy, can we leave some for Celine?"
It wasn't loud.
But it landed.
Malcolm froze mid-reach.
Ezekiel paused.
His mother blinked once.
"Celine?" she repeated carefully.
August didn't rush. He folded his napkin, wiped his hands, calm as ever.
"Yes."
Silence hovered, not cold, just curious.
"Are you seeing someone?" his mother asked, serious but not sharp.
August met her gaze. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Mom."
She gasped softly, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. "Of course you do! I carried you in here!" She gestured vaguely toward her stomach. "Nine months! Do you think that expires?"
Malcolm burst out laughing. "She's using the pregnancy card again."
"Malcolm!" she snapped, though a smile threatened her lips.
She turned to her husband. "Ezekiel, say something."
Ezekiel sighed deeply, but there was amusement in his eyes. "Listen to your mother, August. You seeing someone?"
August leaned back slightly.
"I am," he said simply.
That changed the air.
Malcolm's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? This is serious then."
His mother stared at him, not angry, just… searching.
"She's kind," August added quietly. "Good with Liam. He likes her."
Liam nodded eagerly. "She reads funny voices!"
His mother looked at her grandson, then back at August.
"Bring her for dinner," she said after a moment. "If she's in my grandson's life, she can sit at my table."
It wasn't a demand.
It was an invitation disguised as authority.
Malcolm leaned back, smirking. "Yeah, bring her. I want to see the woman who's got you smiling at nothing."
August smiled faintly at that.
"She's not Marissa," his mother added softly, watching him carefully.
"No," August said. "She's not."
A quiet understanding passed across the table.
Ezekiel cleared his throat. "Well then. Next Sunday. We'll make extra."
His mother nodded once. "Next Sunday."
And just like that, the storm that could have formed… didn't.
The table resumed its noise.
Malcolm stole another shrimp.
Liam shouted.
His mother scolded.
Ezekiel sighed.
And August, for the first time in a long time, felt something settle.
***
Stacy's apartment looked like someone had moved in and then immediately changed their mind.
Boxes everywhere. One open with clothes spilling out. Another half-taped like she gave up halfway through sealing it. A mirror leaned against the wall instead of hanging. The place smelled faintly of new paint and spicy noodles.
Celine stepped in first, flicking on the light.
"Are you ever going to unpack?" she asked.
Stacy kicked a box out of the walkway. "When the economy improves."
"You're impossible."
"And yet you love me."
Celine didn't answer. She slipped off her heels and dropped them by the door like she'd done it a hundred times before. There was something comforting about Stacy's chaos, it didn't feel fragile like her penthouse had. It felt… survivable.
They both collapsed onto the couch. Laptop open. Chips between them. Stacy stole one before Celine could reach.
"The PR team finally got it under control," Stacy said through a crunch. "You are not trending anymore."
Celine nodded slowly.
"No proof of who started it" Stacy added. "Which is good… and frustrating."
Celine stared at the laptop screen but wasn't reading anything.
Then Stacy turned to look at her fully.
"Okay. Now tell me something not work-related."
Celine hesitated.
Stacy narrowed her eyes. "You have that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm pretending to be unbothered but I'm actually very bothered' look."
Celine exhaled through her nose.
"Nothing serious," she said lightly.
"Oh I hate that tone already."
Celine reached for a chip, buying time.
"We kissed."
The crunch stopped mid-air in Stacy's hand.
"—Excuse me?"
Celine tried to keep her face neutral. Failed slightly.
"It just… happened."
Stacy slowly put the chip down.
"Has who heard?" she demanded dramatically. "Tell me there were witnesses. Please say it was cinematic."
"It was outside his car."
"OH my God."
"Stacy."
"Did he lean? Did you lean? Who initiated?"
Celine tried to look composed.
"I did."
Stacy blinked.
"You?" She stared. "You don't initiate. You strategize."
"It wasn't strategic."
"Oh this is bad."
"It's not bad."
"It's good bad."
Celine rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, small, private.
"He looked surprised," she admitted quietly. "Like he didn't expect me to."
"And then?"
Celine hesitated again.
"And then he didn't let me pull away."
Stacy watched her closely.
"You like him."
Celine shook her head automatically.
"I'm staying at his house because mine was trashed. That's logistics."
"Mhmm."
"It doesn't mean anything."
"Mhmm."
Celine's voice softened.
"He makes things feel… calm."
That did it.
Stacy's teasing faded.
"Calm is dangerous for you," she said gently. "You don't know what to do with calm."
Celine leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't want calm to disappear."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Stacy studied her friend, the woman who had survived seven marriages, scandals, lawyers, whispers, and was somehow more nervous about a kiss in a parking lot.
"You're not running from him, are you?"
Celine swallowed.
"I asked you to look at houses."
"That's not what I asked."
Silence.
Celine finally whispered,
"I don't know how to stay."