Chapter 12
luna
I wanted to paint the entire house in warmth. It was cold, made even colder by the memories of the two of us here together. There was so much I needed to talk to Dirks about—Nova being back here, where Jeremy was, everything that happened when I came back to the States.
And then there were the things I could never say. Not to him. Not about Jeremy. Not about the past we promised to bury.
All I wanted was to replace the cold with something warm. Something new. Bright laughter in this kitchen. The smell of food on the stove. A kiss against the fridge door. A reason to remember this place differently.
“It’s lovely in here,” I said, eyes drifting over the space.
When I turned, Dirks was bent slightly, pulling a few vegetables from the fridge.
“Don’t do that, Luna girl,” he crooned.
I stepped toward the marble island in the center of the kitchen, fingertips grazing its edge.
“Do what?”
“Do that thing where you lie and cover it up with something sweet. You know better.”
He put down the vegetables and rounded the corner to where I was. He was still shirtless, and even though it was winter outside, he was somehow still tanned.
“I know better?” I whimpered, my voice trembling with all the things I hadn’t said.
“Yes.”
I sighed as his hands found their way to my hips, the warmth and familiarity of his touch beckoning me like the warm sun after a dreary winter. It was too easy to lean into it, too easy to remember exactly how this felt, rather how he felt.
“Okay,” I murmured, my fingers curling lightly against his bare chest, as if surrender wasn’t a conscious decision but something my body had already chosen.
He didn’t say anything else, only stood there holding me. He gripped my hips, firm but gentle, and I rested my hands on his chest, feeling the even rise and fall of his breath. Our bodies fit together, and we didn’t rush anything. We stood there, letting the moment stretch.
I looked up at him, my cheek brushing against his collarbone. “I’m hungry,” I whispered.
“Oh. Right. Food. Yeah.”
He stepped back reluctantly, and I smiled as I pulled out one of the stools tucked under the island.
I sat, propping my elbows on the counter like I’d done a hundred times before, and watched him move around the kitchen.
There was something grounding about it—about him—shirtless and barefoot, making me food.
He opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass without asking—my favorite, the one he always kept stocked back then.
He slid it across the counter to me, then looked up, eyes serious. “Tell me,” he said quietly.
I nodded, and even though we’d texted and talked when I was in London, I told him everything. About Will. About the breakup. About why I pulled away—because I was trying to make sure this was right, because I was upending my entire life and needed to know I wasn’t making another mistake.
He nodded, quiet, listening the way he always did when it mattered.
I told him about coming here, about where I was staying in a guesthouse on the North Shore, though I didn’t say who lived in the main house. I couldn’t. That was Nova’s trust, and I wouldn’t break it.
I told him I wanted to surprise him. That I missed him.
By the time I was done, he’d set one of my favorite soba noodle salads in front of me, along with grilled miso salmon, without asking. I looked at him, and I knew.
This was exactly why I’d come back.
I took a bite and groaned, letting my head fall back dramatically.
“Okay. Rude.”
Dirks looked up, already smirking. “Rude?”
“That you remembered exactly how I like it. Like, disgusting levels of accuracy. Did you write it down in some secret ‘Luna Survival Manual’?”
“Page twelve, under ‘Things she pretends she’s not picky about but is deeply offended by if wrong.’ ”
I narrowed my eyes, pointing my chopsticks at him. “Careful. I’m unpredictable when fed.”
He grinned, then nodded toward the salmon. “Try the fish. I marinated it in my emotional trauma.”
I snorted. “That explains the salt.”
He laughed, truly laughed, and it pulled something loose in me. This felt . . . light. Easier than it should’ve. Like we hadn’t lost almost five years, like I hadn’t shattered both of us the last time I stood in this kitchen.
“So,” I said, taking another bite. “What I’m hearing is, in my absence, you became a domestic god?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think this is new? I’ve always been like this. You just had tunnel vision for my abs and bad decisions.”
“I still have tunnel vision for your abs and bad decisions,” I deadpanned, and he let out a low chuckle that made my chest tighten.
We kept eating, the silence between us now filled with the clinking of utensils and the kind of comfort you only get with someone who’s seen you cry and still texted the next morning.
I watched the way he moved, how settled he looked in his own space, and I realized how much I didn’t know about his life anymore. How much time had passed.
As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me carefully. “You ever talk to Jeremy?”
The question landed like a dropped glass.
I blinked, my fork halfway to my mouth. The air in my lungs thinned a little.
My smile faltered, but I tried to keep it light. “That’s a hard pivot.”
He didn’t say anything, so I set my fork down gently. The back of my neck warmed. “Have you heard from him?”
“No. Not since I tried to reach out. I haven’t—nothing.”
I nodded, dropping my eyes to my plate, even though I wasn’t hungry anymore.
He stared down at his own food, jaw working like he was chewing on something he wasn’t sure he wanted to say..
“But, Luna girl . . . it’s hard to ignore you. You’re everywhere. I’m sure he knows you’re back.”
“I haven’t publicly shared that I’m back in the States,” I said, my fingers tightening around the stem of my wine glass.
Mostly for Nova’s safety, I added silently, biting my cheek. That part wasn’t mine to say out loud.
“Can I ask you something?”
My stomach tightened. I met his eyes. “Yeah. Anything.”
“What’s the plan here? Like, moving forward.
You broke up with Will because you didn’t want monogamy.
I get that. But . . . you and me, we’ve never been just you and me.
It was always the three of us.” He tapped lightly on the counter.
“So what are we doing? Because if you’re here thinking we can go back to something, I don’t even know what that something is. ”
I looked down at my hands, heart clenching, his words landing in the exact places I didn’t want to touch yet. Because he was right.
We’d never been just us. Every version of us had always included Jeremy, and without him, what were we? Something new? Something broken?
I swallowed hard, trying to sort through the knot in my chest. “I’ve been asking myself that same thing,” I admitted quietly. “What I want. Who I am without . . . him.”
Dirks didn’t move. He gave me space, even if I could feel how much he wanted to close it.
“I don’t have a clean answer. I don’t know if what I’m looking for is non-monogamy or not. I just know I don’t want to perform a life that doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m still figuring it out.” I looked up, my eyes finding his. “I do know I want to date you. I want to be with you.”
Dirks’s expression didn’t shift. Instead he held my gaze and memorized every word.
“I don’t have it all sorted, but I’m not looking for something casual. Whatever this turns into . . . I know I’m looking for someone like you.”
Dirks was quiet for a long moment.
“I can live with you figuring it out. I can be patient, but I won’t be a placeholder, Luna girl.”
My heart stuttered.
He leaned in slightly, eyes locked on mine. “If you want me, I’m all in. Even if it’s messy. Even if we take it one piece at a time. I need to know that I’m not temporary.”
“I don’t want you to be a placeholder.”
“I’m not him, Lune. I can’t give you the parts he gave you.”
I nodded, my throat tightening. He didn’t have to explain what he meant. Jeremy was chaos, adrenaline, heat. Dirks was gravity. Steady, grounding, the reason I could breathe again.
“Am I enough?”
I didn’t think. I leaned across the island, my hands finding his face, fingers brushing the stubble on his cheeks.
“I moved across the Atlantic Ocean for you, baby. You are enough.”
He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, he brought his hands up, mirroring mine. He cupped my cheeks gently, thumbs brushing the edges of my cheeks. We stayed like that for a long while. Our foreheads nearly touched, our mouths only inches apart.
“Kiss me, baby,” I whispered.
He kissed me, slow at first, but then he deepened it, sliding his hands down to my waist, gripping tight.
He broke the kiss only long enough to move around the island, eyes locked on mine the whole way, before pulling me into him again.
His hands found my hips, lifting me effortlessly onto his lap as he sat back down on the stool.
I straddled him, my legs on either side of his, our bodies pressed close, heat building fast and thick between us.
“I missed you,” he murmured against my lips, his hands settling on my thighs like he’d never forgotten the feel of me.
I reached down, fingers grazing over the front of his sweat shorts with the faintest smirk. “You’re poking me.”
He chuckled into my mouth. “I can’t help it. My body’s struggling to believe you’re really here and that it’s not a dream.”
“Then let me remind you who I am.”
I slid off his lap slowly, standing between his legs. His hands instinctively followed, still gripping my thighs.
“Hands behind your back,” I said softly.
His eyes flicked to mine, heat flashing in them, but he obeyed immediately, fingers lacing behind him as he sat up straighter on the stool.
Good boy.
I trailed my fingertips down his chest until his restraint pulsed off him. I reached for the waistband of his shorts, brushing just under it before I leaned forward, lips at his ear.