Elena's POV
Thursday morning felt lighter than it should have. Three days after everything we’d said in that car, things between us were… steadier.
“So I was thinking we could do dinner on Sunday, maybe that Italian place you like?"
I glanced over at Damien as we sat in his car, driving to work. His hand rested over mine on the console, as my thumb traced absent circles on his skin.
"For your birthday?" I added.
"It's not a big deal," he said, but I could see the small smile tugging at his lips.
“Thirty-three? Should I start researching retirement homes?”
"You're insufferable," he said, squeezing my hand.
"And you love it."
He laughed, pulling into the Sterling parking garage.
Since Monday, things have been fragile but better. Like we were rebuilding something, piece by piece.
