Lesley nudged the knife a fraction of an inch closer to the plate, then leaned back to inspect the place setting from across the table.
Still not right.
She stepped forward again, turning the fork so its polished surface caught the warm glow of the pendant lights above. The wine glasses stood perfectly aligned, their stems delicate against the white linen. A single candle rested in the center, surrounded by fresh flowers whose faint fragrance mingled with the comforting aroma drifting from the kitchen.
Only then did she glance at the clock.
A quiet laugh escaped her.
She had spent nearly fifteen minutes adjusting one place setting.
It was ridiculous.
And completely worth it.
Tonight wasn't just another dinner service. The restaurant, usually alive with conversations and clinking glasses, belonged to her alone. Every chair stood neatly tucked beneath its table except one, positioned in the very center of the room. A table for two.
Their table.
Earlier that afternoon, she'd left the office before anyone else.
"I have a personal matter to attend to," she'd told Denisse as casually as she could manage.
It hadn't been a lie.
If anything, it was the biggest personal matter of her life.
Tonight, she was going to ask Denisse to be her girlfriend.
The thought alone sent another rush of nervous excitement fluttering through her chest. She pressed a hand against her stomach, hoping it would settle the swarm of butterflies that had refused to leave since she woke up that morning.
Everything had to be perfect—not because it needed to be expensive or extravagant, but because she wanted it to feel personal.
She wanted Denisse to feel that every little detail existed because of her.
That was why Lesley hadn't hired one of her chefs. Every dish waiting in the kitchen had been cooked by her own hands. Every flower had been arranged by her. Every candle had been placed exactly where she wanted it. It wasn't about impressing Denisse.
It was about showing her.
Showing her just how deeply she was loved.
Satisfied at last, Lesley slipped her phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
No long speech.
No suspicious hints.
Just one simple message.
Come by the restaurant after work.
She stared at it for a second before pressing send.
Perfect.
A smile curved across her lips as she imagined Denisse reading the text, probably frowning in confusion before making her way here anyway. Curiosity always got the better of her.
Lesley's smile softened.
She could already picture what would happen next.
Denisse stepping through the front door.
Her surprise when she saw the candlelit table.
The way her beautiful eyes would widen.
Maybe she'd laugh. Maybe she'd cry.
Hopefully... she'd say yes.
Her heart squeezed with warmth as a memory drifted into her mind.
Her birthday.
The dinner date on the yacht that Denisse had planned herself.
Lesley still remembered the way Denisse had looked at her beneath the evening sky, her eyes shimmering with nervous anticipation as her lips parted to say something.
Lesley had interrupted her on purpose before the words could leave her mouth.
Not because she didn't want to hear them.
Because she wanted to be the one to ask first.
Denisse had gone through all the effort of planning that beautiful evening for her, yet Lesley wanted to give her something just as unforgettable in return. She wanted to be the one to confess first, to ask her properly, with all the romance Denisse deserved.
So she'd taken Denisse's hand and tugged her toward the railing, pointing at the fireworks blooming across the night sky. The confession was lost beneath the spectacle, and as Denisse's attention drifted to the lights above, Lesley made herself a promise: she'd give Denisse a moment so unforgettable that stealing this one would be forgiven.
Then another.
It had been later that night, long after the fireworks faded and the celebration slipped into quiet. The lights were off, the world finally still. They'd ended up tangled together beneath the blanket, Denisse tucked comfortably against her chest with one arm draped lazily across Lesley's waist.
As sleep slowly claimed her, Denisse let out a quiet murmur, her voice thick with drowsiness, so soft Lesley almost thought she'd imagined it.
"I love you."
Lesley had frozen.
Her heart had pounded so loudly she was certain Denisse could hear it.
She had wanted to answer immediately.
To tell her she'd been hopelessly in love for far longer than she'd dared admit.
But the words had stayed trapped behind her lips.
Not because they weren't true.
Because she wanted to tell Denisse properly.
Not half-asleep in the dark.
Not in a passing moment.
She wanted Denisse to hear them while looking into her eyes.
Tonight.
Tonight, she finally would.
A sharp hiss followed by the clatter of a pan shattered the memory.
Lesley's eyes widened.
"The sauce."
She spun toward the kitchen, nearly laughing at herself as she hurried through the swinging doors. Heat greeted her instantly, wrapping around her as fragrant steam curled into the air. The simmering sauce bubbled dangerously close to boiling over.
She reached for the wooden spoon with practiced hands, stirring carefully until the bubbling settled.
The rich scent of garlic, butter, and herbs filled the room.
She exhaled slowly.
Everything was still on schedule.
One last meal to finish.
One last surprise to prepare.
And if fate was kind, by the end of the night, Denisse wouldn't just be the woman she loved.
She'd finally be her girlfriend.
--
Meanwhile, the rooftop was quieter than the rest of the company building.
Only the steady rush of wind filled the silence, carrying with it the distant hum of traffic far below. The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the railing, glittering against the night, but Denisse barely noticed them.
She stood a few feet away from Daphne, the wind tugging loose strands of her hair across her face.
Daphne's expression was unreadable.
Cold.
Controlled.
"Why did you want to speak with me, Ms. Philipps?" Denisse asked politely.
Daphne didn't bother with pleasantries.
"I'll get straight to the point."
Her gaze settled on Denisse.
"Stay away from Lesley."
The words struck Denisse like an unexpected slap.
For a heartbeat, she simply stared.
"...What?"
She forced herself to recover before Daphne could see the surprise on her face.
"I'm her assistant," Denisse replied evenly. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"
A humorless smile touched Daphne's lips.
"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Denisse?"
Silence settled between them.
The wind whipped harder across the rooftop.
Daphne took a step closer.
Not enough to invade her space.
Just enough to make the air feel heavier.
"You honestly think I haven't noticed?"
Denisse kept her expression carefully blank.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, please."
Daphne folded her arms.
"Tell me, Denisse..."
Her tone remained calm.
"With everything you've shared with Lesley..."
"...has she ever introduced you as her girlfriend?"
Something inside Denisse sank.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"When people ask who you are to her..."
Daphne held her gaze.
"...what does she call you?"
Daphne watched the silence stretch between them.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then she broke the silence herself.
"That's what I thought."
Denisse swallowed the knot forming in her throat.
"Whatever is happening between us isn't your concern."
A mocking smile played at the corners of Daphne's mouth.
"You really believe whatever's happening between you means something, don't you?"
Denisse's fingers slowly curled into her palms.
Daphne continued before she could answer.
"I bet you've kissed."
A beat.
"You've shared her bed."
Another.
"But has she ever called you hers?"
"Or do you keep telling yourself it'll happen eventually?"
Denisse's breath caught.
Daphne watched the answer unfold across her face before Denisse uttered a single word.
A knowing smile spread slowly across her lips.
"I knew it."
Denisse forced herself to meet her gaze.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Daphne let out a quiet chuckle.
"Don't I?"
She tilted her head.
"You know what the difference between you and me is?"
A brief pause.
"I was actually her girlfriend."
The words landed heavily in Denisse's chest.
"I never had to wonder where I stood."
Daphne's gaze swept over her, unhurried.
"She chose me."
The wind filled the silence.
"Every woman after me thought she'd be the exception."
Daphne's smile was faint.
"They all thought they were different."
"They thought whatever they had with Lesley was something she had never given anyone else."
The ache in Denisse's chest deepened.
"Do you know what Lesley does?"
"She makes women believe they matter."
"She gives them her time."
"Her attention."
"Her affection."
"And for a while..."
Daphne's eyes settled on her.
"...it feels like you're the only person in the world she sees."
A silence stretched between them.
"That's why it works."
"Because you don't feel like another woman."
"You feel like the first."
Denisse's heartbeat quickened.
"But you aren't."
Daphne's smile returned.
"You're just the next one."
A beat.
"Until she's done."
Each word drove another crack through Denisse's composure.
"Remember what I said?"
Denisse looked at her.
"The difference between you and me?"
"After me..."
Daphne didn't look away.
"There was never another girlfriend."
"Only women who hoped they'd become one."
No.
Lesley wasn't—
...was she?
Then why...
Why hadn't Lesley ever talked about what they were?
Why had she never asked?
Why had Denisse never dared to?
Daphne's voice pulled her back.
"Do you know how many times Lesley flew to Paris after we broke up?"
She smiled faintly.
"More times than I can count."
" She kept coming back."
The confidence in her voice was unwavering.
"And now I'm back."
She met Denisse's eyes.
"This time I'm not letting anyone get in my way."
The words hung in the air.
"So let me ask you one last thing."
She stepped closer.
"If Lesley wanted something serious with you..."
She tilted her head.
"...don't you think she'd have chosen you by now?"
Denisse froze.
Every memory rushed through her mind.
The kisses.
The lingering embraces.
Lazy mornings tangled beneath warm sheets.
The way Lesley reached for her hand without thinking.
The softness in her eyes.
The way she made Denisse feel cherished.
But...
Not once...
Had Lesley called her hers.
Not once...
Had they defined whatever this was.
Daphne watched the realization settle across Denisse's face.
The corner of her mouth lifted.
"Now you understand."
A beat.
"She let you have every part of her that was easy to give."
Daphne looked directly at her.
"Just not the part that mattered."
Denisse couldn't answer.
Because she couldn't.
Because every question Daphne asked...
...already had an answer.
Daphne stepped around her, then paused beside Denisse's shoulder.
"Go ahead."
Denisse looked at her.
Amusement flickered across Daphne's face.
"Ask her."
Silence.
"Ask Lesley what you are."
Another beat.
"Maybe she'll finally give you an answer."
She leaned in just enough for her next words to be impossible to ignore.
"Or maybe..."
"...you're afraid you already know it."
Daphne glanced toward the rooftop door.
"When she comes back to me..."
Her smile widened.
"...don't pretend you didn't see it coming."
Then she walked away.
The sound of her heels gradually disappeared behind the rooftop door.
Leaving only the wind.
And Denisse.
She remained frozen where she stood.
Her breathing had become shallow.
Uneven.
The ache in her chest grew heavier with every passing second until it became almost impossible to bear.
No...
Lesley wasn't like that.
...Right?
Then why hadn't she ever brought it up?
Why had she never asked what they were?
Why had she never given them a name?
Was it because...
...Daphne was right?
Was she simply another woman Lesley cared about...
But never enough to choose?
The first tear escaped before she realized she was crying.
Then another.
She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, but it did nothing to stop the sob that escaped her.
Her knees finally gave out beneath her.
She sank onto the cold concrete, hugging herself as tears spilled freely down her face.
The pain in her chest was unbearable.
Not because Daphne had been cruel.
But because beneath every question she'd asked...
...lay the one question Denisse had been too afraid to ask herself all along.
If Lesley truly wanted me...
...why am I still wondering what we are?
--
Back at the restaurant, the last candle had just been lit.
Lesley stepped back from the table, giving it one final look. The warm glow danced across the neatly arranged plates, the fresh flowers at the center, and every dish she had spent the afternoon preparing herself.
It wasn't extravagant.
It didn't have to be.
For once, she hadn't wanted grand gestures or expensive gifts.
She just wanted one quiet evening with Denisse.
One dinner.
One conversation.
One chance to finally stop hiding behind lingering glances and half-spoken feelings.
A soft vibration against her thigh pulled her from her thoughts.
Her heart lifted instinctively.
She slipped her phone from her pocket.
Denisse
A small smile had barely begun to form before she opened the message.
Sorry. I can't make it tonight. Something important came up.
The smile disappeared.
The restaurant suddenly felt much quieter than it had a moment ago.
Lesley stared at the screen, reading the message again.
Then once more.
A dull ache settled quietly in her chest.
Not because of the untouched dinner waiting on the table.
Not because of the hours she'd spent cooking every dish herself.
Those things didn't matter.
What hurt was knowing she'd lost the moment she'd been building toward all day.
The moment she'd finally tell Denisse the words that had been growing heavier inside her heart.
I love you.
She let out a slow breath.
Something important.
If Denisse had said it was important...
Then it was.
Lesley knew her well enough not to question it.
Her thumb hovered over the screen before she pressed the call button.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
She lowered the phone, staring at it for another second before opening their conversation.
Her fingers lingered over the keyboard.
Finally, she typed.
Okay. But call me when you get a chance.
She read the message once before hitting send.
A quiet chime confirmed it had gone through.
The phone disappeared back into her pocket.
Silence settled around her.
Lesley's gaze drifted to the table she'd prepared.
Steam still curled lazily from the dishes.
The candles flickered gently, casting warm light over two place settings that now looked strangely incomplete.
One chair remained empty.
Waiting.
Just like she was.