Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Amber
The house smells like hickory smoke and searing meat, a savory, heavy aroma that clings to the furniture and the curtains. Jude is manning the grill on the back porch, even though it’s freezing, because he insists that snow adds a certain smokiness to the burgers you just can’t get indoors.
Through the sliding glass door, I can see him flipping patties with a focused intensity, his breath clouding around him.
Inside, the living room is a picture of domestic bliss that makes my chest feel tight. Ryker is sprawled on the sofa, his long legs taking up most of the coffee table space, with Norah tucked into his side.
She’s got her feet up on a pillow, a throw blanket draped over her lap, and Rufus is snoring loudly on the rug. Dorian isn’t here; he’s still at his mother’s, helping her navigate a new physical therapy routine after her check-up.
“...and then Ms. Gable said we have to pick a state for the geography project,” Maisie is saying, sitting at the kitchen island with her colored pencils spread out like a fan.
“I was thinking Alaska, because of the snow, but Leo wants to do Florida because of Disney World. I told him Disney World isn’t the capital city, but he wouldn’t listen. ”
I stand near the sink, rinsing off plates, but my attention is fractured. My eyes keep darting to the clock on the microwave.
7:12 p.m.
It’s late. Later than I intended to stay home. A nervous flutter beats against my ribs, fast and insistent. I feel like a teenager again, sneaking out of her bedroom window to meet a boy behind the bleachers, terrified of getting caught but exhilarated by the possibility.
I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Eli’s face.
Those dark-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, the way his brown eyes softened when he looked at me, the gentle authority in his voice when he insisted on bandaging my hand.
He was so handsome, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at me—like I was something worth noticing, worth caring for.
After Luke’s call this morning, after being told I was the problem and that he was moving on to build a perfect family without me… I needed that. I needed to be seen.
“You okay, Amber?” Jude’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he comes inside, bringing a platter of burgers that smell incredible. “You’ve been staring at that spatula like it insulted our mother.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, turning off the water. “Just zoned out.”
Dinner is a loud, messy affair. Maisie talks animatedly about the difference between igloos and regular houses, while Ryker feeds Norah french fries one by one. I pick at my burger, the taste delicious but my stomach twisted in knots.
By 7:45, Maisie is fading. The adrenaline of the school day is wearing off, leaving her heavy-lidded and sluggish.
“Homework first, bug,” I tell her gently, steering her toward her room.
We sit cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the Harry Potter book open between us. I help her navigate a math worksheet involving fractions, my mind drifting back to the parking lot of the market. I can make a batch for you. As compensation.
“Mom?” Maisie asks, tapping my hand with her pencil. “You missed number four.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m distracted.”
“Thinking about the flowers?” she asks wisely.
“Something like that,” I lie.
By 8:15, Maisie is asleep, her glasses folded on the nightstand and Frida the rabbit tucked under her arm. I press a kiss to her forehead and creep out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
I walk back into the living room. The lights are dimmed, the TV playing a nature documentary about river otters. Ryker and Norah are still in the same position. Jude is in the armchair, scrolling through his phone.
The air in the room is thick with contentment. It’s wonderful, and it’s suffocating. I feel like an intruder in my own life, a ghost haunting a happy home that isn’t really mine.
“I think I’m going to go for a drive,” I announce, my voice sounding too loud in the quiet room.
Jude looks up, frowning. “A drive? It’s almost 8:30. Where are you going to go?”
“Just around. I need to… clear my head.” I grab my keys from the hook by the door, jingling them nervously. “I’ve been inside all day. I need some air.”
Norah shifts, looking at me over Ryker’s shoulder. Her eyes scan my face. “Is everything okay? You seemed off at dinner.”
“I’m fine. Really.” I force a smile. “Besides, you two look cozy. I feel like a third wheel. I figured I’d give you guys some privacy for a bit.”
Ryker frowns. “Amber, you’re not a third wheel. This is your house too. We don’t mind you being here.”
“I know. I just… I need to drive. Please.” I don’t want to explain. I can’t explain. If I say I’m going to a restaurant to meet a man I met today, Jude will want to come with me.
He’ll want to vet him. He’ll turn this into a big deal, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just pastries.
Jude sighs, the big brother worry radiating off him. “Keep your phone on. Check in with me in an hour?”
“I will,” I promise. “I won’t be long.”
I pull my coat on and step out into the night air, closing the door firmly behind me. The cold hits me instantly, waking up my senses.
I get into my car and sit there for a moment, the engine off, just breathing. The dashboard lights cast a pale green glow over the interior.
“God, Amber,” I whisper, dropping my forehead against the steering wheel. “What are you doing?”
I look in the rearview mirror. I’m still wearing my work clothes—a slightly stained sweater and jeans that have seen better days. I haven’t brushed my hair since this morning. I look like a wreck.
I dig into my glove box and find a tube of lip gloss. I slick it on, staring at my reflection. It’s too shiny. It looks like I’m trying too hard.
I scrub it off with a napkin until my lips are raw and bare.
The first guy who shows me a shred of kindness, and I’m rushing out into the snow like a pathetic puppy. It’s humiliating.
Luke’s voice whispers in my ear again. You’re broken. You’re too much.
I’m doing it again. I’m looking for a man to fix the mess inside me. I swore I wouldn’t do that anymore. I swore I’d rely on myself.
But then I remember Eli’s hand covering mine. The warmth of his skin. The way he didn’t get angry when I ran into him. The way he talked about his grandmother, like she was a saint.
He didn’t look at me like I was broken. He looked at me like he was… hungry.
And he’s waiting.
The thought hits me with a pang of guilt. He said he’d be there. What if he’s sitting in the dark restaurant, watching the door, wondering why I’m not coming? What if he thinks I stood him up?
I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t bear being the source of someone else’s disappointment, not tonight. Not after Luke’s disappointment already feels like a weight on my chest.
It’s just pastries, I tell myself firmly. It’s food. He’s a chef. It’s his love language. It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s not a life-altering decision. It’s just… comfort.
I check the time again. 8:40 p.m.
I shouldn’t go. I should go back inside, make a cup of tea, and read a book.
My hand turns the key. The engine sputters to life.
I back out of the driveway, the tires crunching on the snow-packed gravel. I point the car toward town, toward the warm yellow lights of the main strip. Blade & Butter is only a few miles away.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I drive. The town is quiet, the snow falling in soft, swirling flakes under the street lamps. I grip the wheel, my palms sweating against the leather.
I’m terrified. I’m terrified of wanting something nice. I’m terrified that if I let myself feel good for an hour, the crash will be worse tomorrow.
But I can’t stop. I keep driving, pulled forward by the memory of brown eyes and the scent of vanilla beans.
I just want to see him. I just want to know if that spark I felt was real, or if I just imagined it because I was having such a terrible day.
I turn the corner onto the main street. The sign for Blade & Butter glows in the dark window, a silver knife cutting through a pat of butter. Most of the other shops are dark, but there’s a light on in the back.
I pull up to the curb and kill the engine. I sit there for a long minute, watching the door.
Okay, Amber. Breathe. Just walk inside. Say hello. Eat a bun. Go home.
Simple.
I reach for the door handle, my hand shaking slightly. I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this.
The bell above the door chimes, a soft, solitary sound in the quiet restaurant.
The main dining room is dark, the chairs stacked upside down on the tables, the air still smelling faintly of roasted garlic and polished wood.
I stand just inside the threshold, rubbing my gloved hands together, the cold from the car ride still clinging to my coat.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing slightly off the exposed brick walls.
A door opens at the back of the room, near the large opening to the kitchen. Eli steps through, and my breath catches in my throat.
He’s got a cigarette tucked between his fingers, the tip glowing orange in the dim light. A thin trail of smoke swirls around him, catching the glow of the streetlamp outside the window.
He’s taken off his glasses, and his hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He looks dangerous. He looks like the kind of bad boy you see in movies, leaning against a motorcycle in an alleyway.
But then he sees me, and his entire face transforms. The danger softens into something warm and unguarded.
“Hey,” he says.
I blink, surprised. “You smoke?”
He looks down at the cigarette as if surprised to find it there. He takes one last drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Only when I’m nervous.”
“You? Nervous?” I walk further into the room, shedding my coat. “You seem like you have everything under control.”
Eli crushes the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, moving toward me. “Not tonight.”