Chapter 22
Phoenix's carbonara is obscene.
Thick ribbons of bucatini coated in a silky sauce of egg and cheese and black pepper, crispy pancetta scattered through it, the whole thing glistening under the kitchen lights like he's a fucking cooking influencer now.
Rafael came back from the store with two bottles of red and a bag of fancy breadsticks. He's changed into sweats and a tank top, his kraken tattoo on full display, and he's already halfway through his first plate when I drop into my usual chair.
"This is stupid good," Raf says around a mouthful.
"Told you." Phoenix sets a plate in front of me, then one at the empty spot beside me.
Rex's spot.
Nobody acknowledges it. Nobody makes a big deal out of the fourth plate sitting there, steam rising from the pasta, in the seat where Rex could have his masked side facing the wall if he wants.
Rex appears from the hallway. He pauses at the edge of the kitchen, scanning the table. The plate. The chair. The three of us already eating like this is normal.
Phoenix doesn't look up. Just keeps twirling pasta around his fork with aggressive concentration.
Rafael takes a sip of wine.
I shove a breadstick in my mouth.
Rex sits down.
The chair scrapes against the hardwood. He stares at the plate in front of him. Then at us. Then back at the plate.
Nobody says a word.
I keep eating. Rafael pours himself more wine. Phoenix side eyes him with a mouthful of pasta.
Rex picks up his fork.
The movement is so small, so careful, that if I wasn't hyperaware of every single thing this man does, I might have missed it. His fork stabs a single ribbon of pasta and carefully coils it around the tines.
I deliberately don't watch. I am genuinely fascinated by the breadstick and that is the only thing I'm looking at right now.
Phoenix, on the other hand, is vibrating.
I can feel it from across the table. That golden retriever energy cranked up to maximum, his entire body radiating oh my god he's eating with us he's actually eating with us in a frequency that's probably only audible to dogs and omegas.
Rex's eye flicks to Phoenix.
Phoenix freezes mid-chew. His face is doing a bunch of things at once, none of them subtle.
Rex levels him with a glare that could strip paint.
"What," Rex says flatly.
"Nothing!" Phoenix shoves more pasta in his mouth. "Great pasta. Yep. Just eating."
"You're staring at me."
"I am not."
"Phoenix."
"I'm looking at the... wall. Behind you. There's a really interesting..." He squints at the completely blank wall behind Rex's head. "...wall."
I snort. The snort turns into a cough that turns into a full laugh that I try to smother behind my hand. It doesn't work. The laugh escapes, loud and real, and Rafael catches it like a virus and presses his knuckles against his mouth to stifle it. His broad shoulders are still quaking.
Rex's glare intensifies.
Which only makes it funnier.
"You're all insufferable," Rex mutters, stabbing another single noodle.
"You love us," I manage through the laughter.
He doesn't actually deny it.
The meal continues. Rafael and Phoenix bicker about how the pasta needs more butter.
Phoenix wins. More butter goes on the pasta.
I steal breadsticks off Rex's plate because he's not eating them and they're right there, and I need something to sop up the extra butter I didn't ask for.
Phoenix opens the second bottle of wine and pours for everyone, but gives Rex an extra glass of water just in case.
Rex eats maybe a quarter of his plate. Small bites, carefully timed, spaced out. He angles his body slightly away from the table.
But he doesn't leave.
Something changed today. Not just him, either. It's all of us.
Phoenix brushes Rafael's hand when he reaches for the bread. Rafael doesn't yank his hand away. Their knees are touching under the table. I can tell by the angle of their bodies, the way they've drifted together like magnets.
Phoenix bumps my foot under the table with his boot and smiles at me.
Despite everything, we're becoming a pack.
Which is… terrifying.
Because throughout my entire life, the good moments have always just been the universe loading the next disaster. The calm before the storm.
But the storm hasn't hit yet.
So I let myself smile back at him and enjoy every second of this while it lasts.