189
Amanda woke before the sun fully claimed the city.
The penthouse was quiet in that early-morning way that made everything feel suspended in time. Soft breathing, blankets tangled from the night before, faint city light filtering through the curtains.
Ericka was still asleep beside her, curled slightly on her side, hair loose, face peaceful in a way Amanda rarely got to see during the workweek.
Amanda paused, just to look at her.
She brushed a thumb gently along Ericka's cheek, careful not to wake her, then leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.
"I'll be right back," she whispered softly. "Coffee and breakfast. Don't move."
Ericka stirred just enough to smile in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, her hand shifting to catch Amanda's wrist for half a second before letting go.
Amanda smiled to herself, kissed her forehead, and slipped out of bed.
She dressed quietly, hoodie and sneakers, grabbed her phone, and eased the penthouse door shut behind her.
The elevator ride down was calm. Too calm.
Amanda mentally counted orders as the doors slid open to the lobby level.
Coffee.
Breakfast sandwiches.
Extra pastries — because Carter would complain if she didn't.
The café downstairs glowed warmly, already buzzing with soft morning energy. The smell of espresso hit her immediately, comforting.
She exhaled.
And then she saw her.
Sierra sat near the window at a small round table, phone face down, coffee untouched — like she'd been waiting. Like this was intentional.
Amanda's stomach tightened.
Her face didn't change.
She didn't slow down.
Didn't acknowledge her.
Didn't look twice.
She walked straight to the counter.
"Morning," Amanda said calmly. "I need six breakfast sandwiches — three egg and cheese, two bacon, one vegan. And four large coffees. Two oat milk, one almond, one black."
The barista nodded, already ringing it up.
Behind her, a chair scraped softly against the floor.
"Amanda."
She didn't turn.
"Hey," Sierra tried again, closer now. "Can we just talk for a second?"
"I know you're married," Sierra continued, voice too calm, too practiced. "Before you say anything."
Amanda's jaw set, but she stayed facing forward.
"That doesn't change the fact that I want to talk to you."
Amanda exhaled slowly, then turned.
"This is not appropriate," she said. "You need to leave."
Sierra stood, closing the distance just enough to feel intrusive. "You don't get to decide that for me. I just want five minutes."
"You don't get five minutes," Amanda replied flatly.
Sierra tilted her head, eyes sharp now. "You look happy."
"I am."
Sierra scoffed quietly. "Married people say that all the time."
Amanda stared at her — not angry, not shaken — just unimpressed.
"You already crossed a line," Amanda said. "Texting me was inappropriate. Showing up here is worse."
Sierra's lips pressed together. "I told you — seeing you reminded me of everything. I still love you."
Amanda didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
"You loving me doesn't entitle you to me."
Sierra stepped closer anyway. "You can't honestly tell me you never think about us."
Amanda shook her head once. "I don't."
That landed harder than yelling ever could.
The barista called out, "Order will be up in about five minutes."
Sierra laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're really going to pretend your marriage erased what we had?"
"No," Amanda said. "Your choices did."
Sierra's expression tightened. "I said I was sorry."
"And I accepted that," Amanda replied. "Years ago. Acceptance doesn't mean access."
Sierra reached out instinctively, fingers hovering near Amanda's arm. "I just want—"
Amanda stepped back immediately.
"No," she said firmly. "You don't want me. You want permission to ignore my boundaries. And you're not getting it."
Sierra's tone hardened. "So that's it? You're just... unavailable forever?"
Amanda met her eyes, unwavering. "Yes."
She pulled out her phone.
Amanda → Samantha:
911. Café downstairs. Now.
Sierra noticed. "Wow. Calling backup?"
"I'm protecting my peace," Amanda said. "You should try it."
Footsteps approached fast.
"HEY."
Samantha's voice cut through the café like a blade.
Two minutes flat.
Samantha strode in, sunglasses still on, eyes already locked on Sierra. Danielle followed right behind her, arms crossed, stance solid.
Samantha positioned herself immediately beside Amanda. "You okay?"
Amanda nodded once. "I'm good."
Danielle leaned around Samantha, studying Sierra. "Ohhh. So this is Sierra."
Sierra frowned. "And you are—?"
Danielle smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"I'm the sister," she said. "And you're done here."
Samantha turned slightly, addressing Sierra without even fully facing her. "You were told to stop contacting Amanda. Showing up where she is isn't accidental."
"I'm allowed to be here," Sierra snapped. "It's a public café."
Samantha finally looked at her — slow, deliberate. "And Amanda is allowed to ignore you. Which she's doing. So you can either respect that... or we escalate."
Danielle cracked her knuckles loudly. Completely unnecessary. Very effective.
The sound was sharp. Deliberate.
It cut straight through the café's low murmur — forks pausing mid-air, a barista slowing their movements, a couple at the window glancing over and then pretending not to.
Sierra scoffed, folding her arms tighter. "This is ridiculous. I'm not doing anything wrong."
The words barely had time to settle—
Chime.
The soft bell above the café door rang.
Amanda didn't turn.
She didn't have to.
Something in her body reacted first — shoulders easing, jaw unclenching, breath deepening like her nervous system recognized safety before her mind could name it.
Sierra noticed.
Her eyes flicked past Amanda.
And then her posture shifted.
Because Ericka had walked in.
Not hurried.
Not tense.
Not searching.
She entered like she owned the air.
Dark sunglasses. Structured coat. Every step measured, calm, intentional — the kind of presence that didn't escalate a room, but silenced it.
Amanda finally turned.
And the world narrowed to just her.
Ericka lifted her sunglasses slowly, eyes locking onto Amanda's — steady, warm, certain.
Amanda's chest loosened.
Sierra laughed under her breath. "Wow. You're not even listening to me anymore."
Ericka walked straight past her.
Didn't glance.
Didn't pause.
Didn't acknowledge that she existed.
She stopped directly in front of Amanda, hands warm as they framed her face, grounding her like muscle memory. The kiss she pressed to her lips was slow, deliberate — not for show, not rushed — a quiet claim.
Amanda leaned into it instinctively.
When Ericka pulled back, her thumb brushed Amanda's cheek.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Amanda nodded, voice steady. "Yeah. I am now."
Only then did Ericka turn.
Her gaze landed on Sierra — cool recognition, not surprise. They'd already crossed paths. This wasn't new. It was unfinished.
"Oh," Sierra said flatly. "You again."
Ericka tilted her head slightly. "Still you."
Sierra crossed her arms. "I wasn't talking to you."
Ericka's expression didn't change. "And yet here you are. Still talking."
She stepped just close enough — not threatening, not aggressive — but unmistakably firm.
"You were told yesterday to stop," Ericka said evenly. "At the office."
"This is a café," Sierra snapped. "I didn't break any rules."
Ericka nodded once. "Correct."
Her hand slid to the small of Amanda's back — protective, steady, unmistakable.
"But you are testing patience."
"She said no," Ericka continued, voice calm but absolute. "That should have been the end."
Sierra laughed sharply. "You don't get to decide who she talks to."
Ericka's lips curved into the faintest smile — not kind, not cruel.
"No," she said. "Amanda does."
Amanda didn't look at Sierra.
She didn't need to.
Samantha stepped forward, folding her arms. "You've been asked to leave. Multiple times now."
Danielle added, bright and unapologetic, "And now it's getting embarrassing."
Sierra's eyes darted — Amanda's composure, Ericka's stillness, Samantha's readiness.
"You really think this is over?" Sierra muttered.
Ericka didn't raise her voice.
"It already is."
Silence stretched.
Then Sierra grabbed her bag, chair scraping loudly as she stood, and stormed out — the café bell chiming sharply behind her.
The room exhaled.
Ericka turned back to Amanda instantly, command melting into concern.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked again.
Amanda smiled — small, real. "Yeah. Thank you."
Ericka pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good. Let's take the food home."
Danielle grinned. "Wow. That was... efficient."
Samantha smirked. "I love a clean boundary."
The barista called out, "Order's ready!"
Amanda grabbed the bags. Ericka took one without comment.
As they headed for the elevator, Ericka leaned in, voice low — meant only for Amanda.
"You don't have to face that alone. Ever."
Amanda squeezed her hand.
"I know."
The sound was sharp. Deliberate.
It cut straight through the café's low murmur — forks pausing mid-air, a barista slowing their movements, a couple at the window glancing over and then pretending not to.
Sierra scoffed, folding her arms tighter. "This is ridiculous. I'm not doing anything wrong."
The words barely had time to settle—
Chime.
The soft bell above the café door rang.
Amanda didn't turn.
She didn't have to.
Something in her body reacted first — shoulders easing, jaw unclenching, breath deepening like her nervous system recognized safety before her mind could name it.
Sierra noticed.
Her eyes flicked past Amanda.
And then her posture shifted.
Because Ericka had walked in.
Not hurried.
Not tense.
Not searching.
She entered like she owned the air.
Dark sunglasses. Structured coat. Every step measured, calm, intentional — the kind of presence that didn't escalate a room, but silenced it.
Amanda finally turned.
And the world narrowed to just her.
Ericka lifted her sunglasses slowly, eyes locking onto Amanda's — steady, warm, certain.
Amanda's chest loosened.
Sierra laughed under her breath. "Wow. You're not even listening to me anymore."
Ericka walked straight past her.
Didn't glance.
Didn't pause.
Didn't acknowledge that she existed.
She stopped directly in front of Amanda, hands warm as they framed her face, grounding her like muscle memory. The kiss she pressed to her lips was slow, deliberate — not for show, not rushed — a quiet claim.
Amanda leaned into it instinctively.
When Ericka pulled back, her thumb brushed Amanda's cheek.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Amanda nodded, voice steady. "Yeah. I am now."
Only then did Ericka turn.
Her gaze landed on Sierra — cool recognition, not surprise. They'd already crossed paths. This wasn't new. It was unfinished.
"Oh," Sierra said flatly. "You again."
Ericka tilted her head slightly. "Still you."
Sierra crossed her arms. "I wasn't talking to you."
Ericka's expression didn't change. "And yet here you are. Still talking."
She stepped just close enough — not threatening, not aggressive — but unmistakably firm.
"You were told yesterday to stop," Ericka said evenly. "At the office."
"This is a café," Sierra snapped. "I didn't break any rules."
Ericka nodded once. "Correct."
Her hand slid to the small of Amanda's back — protective, steady, unmistakable.
"But you are testing patience."
"She said no," Ericka continued, voice calm but absolute. "That should have been the end."
Sierra laughed sharply. "You don't get to decide who she talks to."
Ericka's lips curved into the faintest smile — not kind, not cruel.
"No," she said. "Amanda does."
Amanda didn't look at Sierra.
She didn't need to.
Samantha stepped forward, folding her arms. "You've been asked to leave. Multiple times now."
Danielle added, bright and unapologetic, "And now it's getting embarrassing."
Sierra's eyes darted — Amanda's composure, Ericka's stillness, Samantha's readiness.
"You really think this is over?" Sierra muttered.
Ericka didn't raise her voice.
"It already is."
Silence stretched.
Then Sierra grabbed her bag, chair scraping loudly as she stood, and stormed out — the café bell chiming sharply behind her.
The room exhaled.
Ericka turned back to Amanda instantly, command melting into concern.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked again.
Amanda smiled — small, real. "Yeah. Thank you."
Ericka pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good. Let's take the food home."
Danielle grinned. "Wow. That was... efficient."
Samantha smirked. "I love a clean boundary."
The barista called out, "Order's ready!"
Amanda grabbed the bags. Ericka took one without comment.
As they headed for the elevator, Ericka leaned in, voice low — meant only for Amanda.
"You don't have to face that alone. Ever."
Amanda squeezed her hand.
"I know."