Later that evening, the house had quieted.
Coats were gathered. Keys found.
Celine stood near the door beside August, fingers still loosely hooked with his.
Anna approached first.
No teasing smile this time.
Just warmth.
She opened her arms without hesitation.
Celine stepped into the embrace.
Anna hugged her properly, not polite, not distant. Warm. Lingering.
"I'm very glad you came tonight," Anna said softly near her ear.
"Thank you for having me," Celine replied.
Anna pulled back slightly, hands still resting on Celine's arms.
"And next time," she added lightly, "we'll make sure there's a bench available."
"Mom," August groaned.
Celine laughed before she could stop herself.
Anna kissed her cheek. "Drive safely."
August's father stepped forward next.
He didn't hug, he wasn't that type.
But he extended his hand to Celine.
Firm. Respectful.
"It was good to finally meet you," he said evenly.
"It was good to meet you too, sir."
He gave a small nod.
Then he looked at his son.
A quiet exchange passed between them.
No teasing.
No lecture.
Just a steady, approving nod.
August straightened slightly.
Understood.
Malcolm, of course, ruined the dignity.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning like a menace.
As Celine glanced his way, he winked.
Then very dramatically mouthed:
Babies.
Celine nearly choked.
August threw him a look that promised future revenge.
Malcolm only grinned wider.
"Goodnight, lovebirds," he said smugly.
August shook his head, guiding Celine toward the door.
Outside, the night air was cooler. Calmer.
They paused by the car.
Celine exhaled. "That went… better than I expected."
August looked at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"They like you."
"She told me about the bench," Celine said.
He groaned softly. "I'm never hearing the end of that."
She stepped closer, smoothing his jacket.
"Your mom's sweet," she said gently.
"She is," he agreed.
There was a quiet moment.
Soft.
Private.
No interruptions.
He brushed a loose strand of her hair back into place, it still refused to behave.
"You survived," he murmured.
"So did you."
He leaned down, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to her forehead this time.
Not rushed.
Not heated.
Just steady.
"Next time," he said quietly, "we use a lock."
She laughed against his chest.
"Next time," she agreed.
Inside the house, Malcolm peeked through the curtain.
"Still outside," he whispered dramatically.
His father pulled him away from the window.
Anna only smiled knowingly.
Young love.
***
The bar wasn't loud.
Just noisy enough to blur thoughts.
Marissa, Augusts ex, sat at the counter, shoulders slightly slumped, fingers tracing the rim of her glass like she was trying to steady the world.
She had been fighting tears since afternoon.
By evening, she gave up and chose whiskey instead.
Across the room, Nolan watched.
He had followed her from a distance.
Watched her leave her apartment building. Watched her pause outside a flower shop she didn't enter. Watched her stare at her phone like she was waiting for a name that never appeared.
He didn't approach right away.
He studied her.
The way she tried to sit tall even when she was clearly breaking inside.
The way she laughed too loudly at nothing.
The way she kept checking the door.
Perfect.
He moved toward her like it was coincidence.
Like he hadn't spent all day memorizing her.
He slid onto the stool beside her.
"Rough night?"
Marissa exhaled slowly, not looking at him.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only if someone's paying attention."
That made her glance at him.
He was calm. Put together. Controlled.
The opposite of how she felt.
She took another sip.
"Why are you drinking alone?" he asked casually.
She shrugged. "Because the person I used to drink with… doesn't anymore."
Nolan tilted his head sympathetically.
"That's usually not about the drinks."
She let out a bitter laugh.
"No. It's about timing. And bad decisions."
"His?" Nolan asked softly.
She didn't answer directly.
Instead she said, "Have you ever been replaced?"
Nolan paused just long enough to make it believable.
"Yes."
The lie slid out smoothly.
"Like you never mattered?" she pressed.
"Like you were a chapter they decided to skip over," he replied.
Her shoulders dropped slightly.
Connection.
Hook.
"I'm Nolan," he offered.
"Marissa."
He pretended the name meant nothing.
But inside, satisfaction settled in.
August's past. Sitting right here.
Unaware she was becoming leverage.
"You know," Nolan said lightly, swirling his drink, "sometimes the best way to handle being replaced… isn't to beg."
She scoffed. "Trust me. I'm not begging."
"Good," he murmured. "Because sometimes the best response is reminding them what they walked away from."
She looked at him, curious now.
"And how would you do that?"
He leaned just slightly closer, not invading, just enough to feel intentional.
"By not disappearing," he said. "By living well. By being seen."
Marissa swallowed slowly.
"You sound like you've thought about this."
"Oh," Nolan smiled faintly, "I have."
He didn't tell her that she wasn't the one he wanted to hurt.
She was simply the bridge.
The bait.
His eyes flicked briefly to her phone when it lit up again.
Still not August.
He filed that away.
"So tell me about him," Nolan said gently. "The one who stopped showing up."
And because Marissa was lonely. And because she was a little drunk. And because Nolan looked like someone safe,
She started talking.
And Nolan listened.
Every word. Every weakness. Every opportunity.