"I should drive you home, Nat. It's late," Adam said, standing up from the sofa, the weight of the evening settling like stones in his chest.
He didn't look at her as he spoke. He didn't have to. He already knew the look in her eyes—syrupy sweet, carefully rehearsed. The same expression she'd worn when she showed up uninvited for dinner. The same smile she used to wear when she wanted something she couldn't say out loud.
He didn't want her there. Not tonight. Not ever, if he was being honest with himself. But old habits and unresolved guilt were hard to break, and Natalia had always been good at slipping through the cracks.
Still, tonight, all he wanted was space. Silence. The kind that didn't come with questions or carefully veiled expectations.
But Natalia remained seated, legs crossed, wine glass untouched.
"Adam..." she purred, tilting her head toward him. "I don't want to go home."
He stiffened.
"I want to spend the night with you."
