5. Lilah
LILAH
I wake up wrapped in the most luxurious sheets imaginable, cocooned in warmth. My body sinks into the mattress like it was made just for me. For one blissful second, I forget about everything that happened yesterday.
The betrayal.
The heartbreak.
The fact that I’m not in the apartment I shared with Devon but alone in Steele’s guest room.
The moment I crack open my eyes, it all comes rushing back like a tsunami.
The image of Devon bending Marissa over his desk, fucking her from behind, slapping her ass and yanking her hair while he whispered filthy things that he never once said to me.
Who the hell was that man?
Because it sure wasn’t the one I thought I knew.
To top it off, Marissa’s expecting Devon’s baby, and I was asked to vacate my position so as not to upset the newly pregnant mama. It’s tempting to pull the pillow over my face and scream until all the oxygen has been depleted from my body.
How has this shitshow become my reality?
The idea of telling my parents I’m now jobless, homeless, and single, makes my stomach turn. I’m a grown woman. What they think shouldn’t matter.
And yet, it does.
They adore Devon and his family. They used to call us a power couple, convinced we were destined to take over Chicago.
That’s a conversation I’m going to put off for as long as humanly possible.
Just thinking of looking for another position as a corporate lawyer depresses the hell out of me. It just feels so soulless.
And, yeah, boring.
For the first time in my life, my path isn’t clearly marked. I’m not operating on autopilot.
Instead of panicking, I’m just tired.
Tired of chasing something I’m not even sure I want.
Tired of pretending I don’t feel like I’ve been living someone else’s version of success.
Maybe I want something different.
Something my parents or Devon didn’t shove me into.
This breakup didn’t just crack my relationship.
It shook the entire foundation of everything I thought I wanted.
Now I’m standing in the rubble, trying to figure out if I built any of it for me.
With a groan, I flop onto my side and bury my face in the pillow.
Even though this isn’t Steele’s room, the sheets smell faintly like him.
Clean and woodsy, with a hint of cedar. It’s a scent so familiar it tugs at something buried within me.
I inhale deeply before I can stop myself as my fingers clutch the edge of the pillow like it will somehow anchor me in this moment.
That’s when I register that I’m still wearing Steele’s old Western Wildcats T-shirt from last night.
Maybe that’s why his scent surrounds me like a warm blanket.
Back in the day, I used to steal it from his dorm room and refuse to give it back.
I’d joke that it was my lucky T-shirt, something to wear when I needed comfort.
But this time, I didn’t have to steal it.
After my bath last night, I found it neatly folded on the bed.
Somehow, the man always knows what I need. Even when I don’t realize it myself.
With a sigh, I push myself up and rub my hands over my face, which is exactly when I spot the steaming cup of coffee sitting on the nightstand.
Right next to a covered breakfast plate that’s still warm.
There’s a sticky note stuck to the side of the plate with Steele’s messy handwriting scrawled across it.
Eat. You’ll feel better. I have practice this morning, but I’ll be back later. Don’t even think about trying to leave. – S
I blink, my throat suddenly too tight.
Devon never did anything thoughtful like make me breakfast in bed or bring me coffee. I pick up the cup and take a sip, the warmth spreading through me. My eyelids feather closed as I savor the delicious cinnamon flavor.
And Devon certainly didn’t pay attention to how I like my coffee either.
But Steele has.
I scroll through my phone while eating, catching up on the wreckage that is now my life. There are half a dozen missed calls from Evelyn and a bombardment of texts in the group chat with the girls. There was no way I could keep it all to myself last night.
Callie:
Come to the bakery. We’ll have coffee, pastries, and a safe space to plot Devon’s doom.
Rina:
I second that. No judgment. Only caffeine, carbs, and girl therapy.
Sloane:
I’ll bring the extra whipped cream. And possibly a baseball bat. Just say the word.
Callie:
Seriously, Lilah. We’ve got you. Come hang with us. Please?
A fresh wave of emotion crashes through me. It’s different from yesterday. This one feels lighter.
Hopeful.
I type out a reply.
Me:
I’ll be there. Thanks.
There’s also one unread text from Steele.
Steele:
You better be eating that breakfast.
Unable to help myself, I huff out a laugh and shake my head.
Of course he’d check.
How did I go from dating a man who never noticed anything, to waking up in the home of someone who knows my favorite breakfast down to the smallest detail?
Aside from Steele being my friend for the last decade, I don’t have an answer.
More than that, it’s not something I want to dwell on .
Not when I’m feeling so raw.
Damaged.
After breakfast, I take a long shower before pulling on a new T-shirt and a pair of Steele’s boxers.
The first thing on the agenda is reaching out to Devon and telling him where to send my belongings. He and Marissa probably boxed them up last night so he could move her right in. Even though I didn’t leave my job on my own terms, it’s a relief that I won’t have to see either one of them again.
Just when I’m trying to figure out what to wear, my phone buzzes with another message from Steele.
Steele:
Tommy at the front desk is bringing up a delivery for you. He’ll leave it in the entryway.
There’s the distant ding of the elevator and another noise before the doors slide shut again. I pad barefoot through the hallway before peeking around the corner to find three large shopping bags from one of my favorite stores.
With pinched brows, I step closer before glancing in the bags. They’re filled with jeans, sweaters, T-shirts, panties, bras, socks, and three pairs of shoes. I check the tags, amazed to find everything in my size.
How did he know?
Even more surprising is there isn’t anything I don’t love or wouldn’t wear.
I truly don’t understand how some woman hasn’t snapped Steele up yet. The man is perfect husband material.
An hour later, I step inside Lakeshore Sweets.
The scents of cinnamon, espresso, and vanilla cocoon me in comfort.
It’s still early enough that the bakery buzzes with a low, cozy energy.
Pastries are cooling on wire racks, there’s the faint hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter, and Callie, Sloane, and Rina are gathered at a corner table with their coffees in hand .
The three of them are more than just my friends. They’re my people. The ones who would show up with baseball bats or bottles of wine, depending on what the situation required.
Callie spots me first, her warm brown eyes flooding with concern. She rises from her chair without a word and then pulls me into a hug so tight it nearly cracks my ribs.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs against my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
The dam inside me threatens to break, but I rein it in and pull back with a small smile. “Thanks.”
Rina, dressed in a sharp black blazer, leans back in her chair and raises a brow. “Do we need to slash some tires? Because I brought a sharp object, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Sloane, lounging with her coffee cup balanced between two fingers, smirks. “Or we could leave a glitter bomb in his gym bag. Emotional damage and a cleanup nightmare.”
I laugh—the first real one in what feels like forever—as I slide into the empty chair they’ve saved for me. “Thanks for the offers, but no sabotage necessary.”
“For now,” Rina says darkly, sipping her latte.
Callie nudges a plate across the table. It’s got my favorite on it. A warm almond croissant drizzled with just the right amount of glaze. “Eat first. Plot second.”
I blink against the sudden sting in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”
“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” Sloane says, flashing a grin.
I break off a piece of croissant, more to keep my hands busy than because I’m actually hungry. “I’m still in shock.”
“No one can blame you for that,” Callie says gently. “What you walked in on was awful.”
I take in the rich, buttery scent of the pastry, letting it settle something inside me. “I never thought he would betray me like that. ”
“Bastard,” Rina mutters, slamming her cup down harder than necessary.
“Yeah.” I let out a hollow laugh. “And the worst part? Turns out I wasn’t just cheated on, I was cheated out of better sex too.”
Three sets of eyes blink at me before Rina lets out a loud, unfiltered laugh. “Well, damn. Tell us how you really feel.”
Callie presses her lips together trying, and failing, not to smile. “I’m guessing that kind of enthusiasm wasn’t something you saw from him?”
“Not even close.” I take a sip of coffee. “Honestly? Seeing him like that made me realize I never really knew him at all.”
Sloane leans forward, her green eyes sharp. “That’s not on you. That’s on him. It’s a choice he made.”
Rina nods, her expression fierce. “Exactly. You’re incredible. If he couldn’t see that, it’s his loss. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”
Callie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “And it sounds like it wasn’t just about the cheating. It was everything.”
“Yeah.” I swirl my cup slowly. “I think I was trying to live a life that looked good on paper. Devon. The job. The apartment. It all made sense. But I don’t think any of it ever really made me happy.”
Sloane’s smile softens. “Sometimes it takes everything falling apart to figure out what we actually want.”
“And what do you want, Lilah?” Callie asks quietly.
I open my mouth before closing it again. “I don’t know. Yet. ” And for the first time in my life, that uncertainty doesn’t terrify me. “I’m figuring it out. One croissant at a time.”
They all smile at that. It’s not a huge moment. It’s not a parade or some grand epiphany.
But it’s a start.
A step forward .
I glance around the table at these women who have been there for me without hesitation.
No judgment.
No conditions.
Just love.
Maybe that’s what I need more of in my life.
People who show up.
People who stay.
Like them.
And Steele.
His face flashes in my mind. His slightly crooked smile, the way he smells like spice and cedar, the quiet strength in his touch. The way he makes me feel like I’m not standing on crumbling ground anymore.
A slow warmth blooms inside me, chasing away some of the heaviness.
Maybe I don’t have everything figured out yet.
But then again, maybe I don’t need to.
All I have to do is take the next step.
And then another.
One heartbeat.
One choice.
One small leap of faith at a time.
And if I’m lucky, I’ll find something better waiting for me on the other side.