Chapter 3
ELIJAH
I guide the SUV into the underground garage, switching off the wipers as I ease into my designated parking spot. The drive home had been unusually quiet—Alex withdrawn in a puzzling silence, while Noah fidgeted nervously, speaking mostly to me.
With my palm resting on Alex’s lower back, the three of us make our way to the elevator. I press my thumb to the print pad, unlocking access to the penthouse, while Noah leans in to key the code for his shared floor.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says quietly.
“Anytime.” I lean back against the far wall of the lift and cross my ankles. “How about joining us for a nightcap?” I offer, watching him weigh the idea.
A few strands of sandy-blond hair have slipped loose from his braid, falling across his cheek.
Black polish coats only his pinky nails—the rest are bare.
I think I catch the glint of a diamond stud in his left nostril, though I can’t be certain, and I don’t want to stare.
There’s something disarmingly youthful about him…
and unexpectedly refreshing. Which says a lot, considering twinks have never really been my thing.
Not that they are now, but…
His soft blue eyes drift over to Alex. “Umm… well, sure,” he mumbles. “If that’s alright with you?”
Alex bows his head, drawing in a slow breath before lifting his gaze to mine. His hands slide into his pockets, and he steps a little closer.
“Sure,” he says at last, squaring his shoulders. “Elijah and I have some bottles of wine from the vineyard. I guess it’s about time we opened one.”
“I love wine!” Noah says, his timid eyes brightening with a smile.
Once inside the penthouse, Alex quietly excuses himself, disappearing down the hall to our bedroom. Noah lingers near the floor-to-ceiling windows, pressing his palms to the glass as he looks out over the city.
“The view is beautiful from up here,” he murmurs, sweeping his eyes across the skyline. “Even in the rain.”
I step up beside him, my eyes following his out into the gray blur of buildings and mist. The view is muted, hushed by the weather—but his reflection in the glass is vivid.
Those bright-blue eyes glow like fog lights against the gloom, framed by wisps of sandy-blond hair. His skin is pale, cheeks flushed with color. He’s absolutely stunning.
“The rain quiets my thoughts,” I say softly, hoping to ease whatever tension still clings to him. “I find it calming.”
“Me too,” he whispers, trailing his fingers along the glass, following the raindrops as they slide down the pane.
He looks so vulnerable. So far away from me, even though he’s standing right beside me. Like a ghost inside his own body—present, but unreachable.
Chills run down my spine.
“Where’s the wine?”
Alex’s voice cuts through the quiet, pulling us both from our shared moment at the window.
He steps into the room wearing dark-gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, blending into the moody night—but he doesn’t fade.
With his damp hair slicked back from what was clearly a quick run of his fingers, he looks effortlessly handsome.
He sinks into the smallest of the four sofas, draping an arm casually across the backrest.
“Red or white?” I ask, heading toward the kitchen, flicking on the fireplace as I pass.
“White, please,” Noah replies.
Alex will want the same, so I start scanning through the bottles we brought back from the vineyard, choosing one that feels right for the moment.
“You have a beautiful home,” Noah says, settling beside Alex on the sofa.
Alex’s eyes lift to mine as I pull a bottle from the wine fridge.
“It’s Elijah’s place,” he replies, voice calm and measured. “But thank you.”
“He’s too modest,” I add with a quiet laugh, returning with three glasses of wine. “He and Emilee are basically living here now.”
Noah nods. “Still… must be nice having a place that feels like home.” Which is a strange comment, but I don’t call him out on it. He lifts his glass and takes a careful sip. “Who’s Emilee?”
“My daughter,” Alex answers, casually crossing an ankle over his knee.
Noah freezes mid-sip, his eyes snapping wide like reality just tilted sideways. He lowers the glass with both hands, blinking hard.
“Wait—you have a daughter?” His voice pitches up, somewhere between awe and disbelief. “Like… an actual child?”
Alex raises a brow, amused. “Is there another kind?”
“I—I just didn’t think…” Noah stammers, clearly caught off guard.
“Well,” Alex says evenly. “She’s thirteen, and away at boarding school with Elijah’s daughter.”
Noah’s eyes widen even further, curiosity sparking like a match. “Wait—were you married? I mean, where did she come from? Okay, sorry. That sounded really weird.”
Alex doesn’t flinch. He looks up from the rim of his glass, tone clipped. “She came from my ex. And no, I wasn’t married.”
That’s enough for me to know we’ve landed on shaky ground. The mention of Meera still tightens something in Alex, even now. I step in, trying to shift the energy, maybe lighten it.
“Let’s just say Alex officially turned in his straight card.”
Silence.
Cringe.
When no one laughs, I wince internally. Clearly, I’m not as quick with the one-liners as my daughter… or Gabriel.
Alex pivots, his voice clipped, but steady. “Have you met Elijah’s ex-husband?”
Wonderful. So that’s where he’s taking this?
Noah looks over at me, then quickly back to Alex. “Um. No. Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, he’s not here at the moment,” Alex says a little too dryly, “but I’m sure you’ll run into him eventually. He’s kind of… unavoidable.”
His gaze shifts toward me, narrowing just slightly.
Interesting. I’ll have to ask Gabriel what crime he committed this time.
Sensing the tension, Noah raises his glass with a crooked grin. “This wine is delicious,” he offers, cheeks flushed, a shy smile still intact.
The way he tries to smooth things over—it’s endearing. But I can’t help getting snagged on his reaction to Alex having a daughter. He seemed genuinely shocked.
Almost… too shocked.
The conversation stalls, hovering in that awkward space where everyone’s pretending not to notice the awkwardness. I sip my wine, keeping my focus on the fire, letting the heat soak into the silence.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say warmly, remembering Noah’s compliment. “It’s actually Alex’s favorite. Hints of strawberry, if I remember correctly. Isn’t that right, love? Let me top you off.”
I reach for the bottle, just as my phone buzzes. Gabriel’s name flashes across the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” I murmur with a wink, excusing myself as I swipe to answer and head back to the kitchen, giving myself a moment to breathe.
ALEX
Hints of fucking strawberry.
My head falls back against the sofa, eyes tracing the wooden beams that run across the ceiling. Eleven breaths, Alex. Eleven breaths.
I count them out, slow—slower than usual.
When I finally lift my head, Noah’s watching me—his eyes locked on my lips.
Christ, I want to kiss him.
I remember the first time I did—months ago at Gravity. That night, I saw Elijah and Gabriel together. Rage in my throat, alcohol on my mind. I went searching for something to burn it out.
Got drunk. Got distracted. And I kissed him.
Noah.
For a second, I can almost taste that night again—the heat of it, the blur of his breath against mine. Kissing him had felt like injecting something dangerous straight into my bloodstream. Instant addiction. And if I’m being honest… I still haven’t kicked the habit.
Now left alone with him, I finally let myself look—really look—the way I’d wanted to earlier. His slim-cut sweatshirt clings just right, tapering at the waist and riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. A flash of vulnerability.
“I was hoping to see you again,” he whispers, his voice low and careful.
He’s talking about that night. The keycard hidden underneath a napkin. The unspoken invitation I never answered.
“Noah…”
My head dips, guilt settling in like a weight across my shoulders. I hadn’t intended to lead him on. Not really. But that doesn’t make it better. Doesn’t make it right.
“I wanted to see you too,” I admit, the shame catching in my throat, threading through every word. And it’s the truth.
God, it’s the truth.
In the background, Elijah’s voice drifts from the kitchen—still chatting with Gabriel. The sound is light, distant, almost ordinary. I turn toward it, just briefly… then look back at Noah.
“I really fucking wanted to.”
His eyes search mine like he’s trying to decide whether to believe me—or protect what’s left of himself instead.
“You had the key,” he says softly. “All you had to do was show up.” He swallows hard. “I waited for you.”
A pause.
“I wanted to dance with you.”
His voice cracks on dance, and it hits me like a gut punch. I shrink back, bracing for tears, for the break. For the sound of something fragile giving way.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, he inhales slowly, grounding himself. The silence between us tightens, breath by breath.
“But,” he says, steadier now, “I can see you’ve got things figured out.”
He nods, just once—toward Elijah. But his pretty eyes stay locked on mine. Unwavering. Honest.
“I can respect that, Alex.”
God, I’m such an idiot.
I owe him something—anything. An explanation, at the very least. I started this: the infatuation, the crush, the fucking obsession.
I was the one who kissed him that night at Gravity, out of nowhere, drunk and spiraling.
The one who went back, hoping to see him again, like some lovesick idiot chasing a fix I had no business craving.
Noah didn’t ask for this. He deserves better. Better than being caught in the crossfire of my confusion. Better than—
“I think I should leave.”
The words snap through me like cold water.
He stands abruptly, just as Elijah walks back in, balancing three freshly poured glasses.