CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
“Becoming Home.”
The empty shelf stayed on Zara's mind all weekend.
Not because Malik had asked her to fill it.
He hadn't.
He simply made room.
There was something quietly intimate about that.
No speeches.
No pressure.
Just...
Space.
Monday morning arrived with its usual rush.
Bellamy & Co. buzzed with excitement as the Hamptons wedding drew closer.
Garment bags covered every spare chair.
Sample menus filled the conference table.
Someone had misplaced two hundred place cards.
Again.
Naomi appeared at Zara's desk carrying two coffees.
"You've got that smile."
"What smile?"
"The one that's becoming incredibly annoying."
Zara laughed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Naomi leaned across the desk.
"So..."
"Have you moved in yet?"
Zara almost choked on her coffee.
"What?"
"You practically live at his apartment."
"I do not."
"You've spent four nights there this week."
"You've been counting?"
"I have."
Zara rolled her eyes.
"We're taking things slowly."
Naomi smiled.
"The healthiest couples usually do."
That afternoon, Zara found herself standing in the supermarket after work.
She wasn't shopping for herself.
She was shopping for dinner.
Without thinking, she picked up Malik's favourite coffee beans.
His preferred cereal.
His hot sauce.
Halfway down the aisle she stopped.
She stared at the basket.
When had "his groceries" quietly become "our groceries"?
The thought made her smile.
When she arrived at Malik's apartment, she let herself in with the spare key he'd given her the previous week.
He'd been almost nervous handing it over.
"You don't have to use it."
"I know."
"I just..."
He'd smiled shyly.
"...wanted you to know you're always welcome."
Now, as she stepped inside carrying grocery bags, the apartment felt familiar.
She kicked off her trainers.
Placed the milk in the fridge.
Put her handbag on the same chair she always used.
Without realising it...
She was acting like someone who belonged there.
"Hello?"
Malik's voice came from his office.
"In here."
She walked down the hallway to find him sitting behind a laptop surrounded by paperwork.
"You've been working."
"I've been pretending to work."
He stood and kissed her softly.
"What have you brought?"
She lifted the shopping bags.
"Dinner."
He peeked inside.
"You bought my cereal."
"You eat it every morning."
"You noticed."
"I notice a lot."
He smiled.
"I love that about you."
The words slipped out so naturally that neither of them reacted immediately.
Silence filled the room.
Malik blinked.
"I..."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I didn't mean to say it like that."
Zara looked at him carefully.
"You don't have to take it back."
"I'm not."
"You said what you felt."
He nodded slowly.
"I did."
She stepped closer until only inches separated them.
"I think..."
She smiled gently.
"...I'm getting there too."
Relief washed across his face.
"You don't have to rush."
"I know."
"I'll wait."
"I know."
That evening they cooked together again.
This time the vegetables survived.
Barely.
Mrs. Alvarez had insisted they take home homemade rum cake for dessert.
"It's dangerous," Malik warned.
"The cake?"
"No."
"Mrs. Alvarez."
"She'll feed you until you can't move."
Zara laughed.
"I've noticed."
Halfway through dinner, Malik looked across the table.
"You know..."
"What?"
"My staff have started placing bets."
"On what?"
"How long before you officially move in."
She nearly dropped her fork.
"They have not."
"They absolutely have."
"And?"
"Winston's convinced it'll happen before Christmas."
She laughed.
"What about you?"
He thought for a moment.
"I think..."
"...it should happen when it stops feeling like a decision."
"When it just feels obvious."
She nodded.
"I like that."
"So do I."
After dinner they took a walk through Brooklyn Heights.
The skyline glowed across the river.
Street musicians played jazz beneath old brownstones.
A cool breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves.
As they reached the promenade, Malik slipped his hand into hers.
A teenage couple walking past smiled.
An elderly woman whispered to her husband,
"They're lovely together."
Zara heard it.
So did Malik.
They looked at one another and laughed.
"I still find this strange," Zara admitted.
"What?"
"Being happy."
He squeezed her hand.
"You'll get used to it."
"I hope so."
"You will."
Across the street, inside a parked black SUV, a camera lens tracked them quietly.
Click.
Malik holding Zara's hand.
Click.
Her laughing.
Click.
The way he looked at her when she wasn't looking back.
The photographer lowered the camera and made a phone call.
"They're comfortable together now."
Devon's voice answered immediately.
"Good."
"They're talking about moving in."
A pause.
Then Devon chuckled.
"Even better."
The photographer frowned.
"I thought we were waiting."
"We are."
Devon's voice remained calm.
"The higher people build..."
"...the further they fall."
The call ended.
Later that night, Zara stood alone on Malik's balcony while he answered one final work email.
She looked out across the lights of Manhattan.
The city no longer felt overwhelming.
It felt familiar.
Behind her, Malik wrapped his arms gently around her waist.
"You disappeared."
"I was thinking."
"Dangerous."
She laughed.
"It usually is."
He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder.
"What were you thinking about?"
She watched the lights shimmer across the East River.
"I think New York stopped feeling like somewhere I escaped to."
He stayed quiet.
She turned to face him.
"It feels like somewhere I chose."
His eyes softened.
"And?"
She smiled.
"It feels like home."
Malik looked at her for a long moment.
Then kissed her forehead.
"Home looks good on you."
She smiled into his chest, unaware that somewhere else in Brooklyn, two separate investigations were beginning to close in.
One into Malik Carter.
The other into Zara Brooks.
Soon, the two would collide.
And neither of them would be ready for what came next.