Breaking the Ice

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dimwit Damian

Marcus's POV

The bell above the café door chimed softly as I pushed it open, a rush of warm, roasted coffee air greeting me. The place smelled like comfort—cinnamon, espresso, and a hint of something sweet baking in the back.

"Why did you bring us here? You know Aunt May likes Anna. Are you trying to kill your chance before you get a proper one?" Peter whispered to me as he shuffled past me through the door, followed closely by Bella, her sisters and Damian, who was frowning down at his phone.

"Something wrong?" I asked him, but he ignored me and walked towards our regular booth.

Bella's voice was the first to break the air. “Ugh. This is it?”

My jaw clenched.

“This place looks like something out of a bad ‘90s movie,” Elena added, wrinkling her nose at the chalkboard menu.

“I mean… are those mismatched chairs?” Portia let out a high-pitched laugh. “Is that like... part of the aesthetic?”

Peter shot me a look. One that said: I told you this was a bad idea.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t trust myself to. This place was ours—me, Damian, Peter, Anna and Courtney. And our regular booth had so many stories. Anna spilled her hot chocolate there and blamed Peter for making her laugh. The jukebox near the counter? Damian convinced Aunt May to bring it in because Anna loved playing old records. Every inch of this café carried her laughter, her presence. And now, these girls acted like it was a dump.

“Guess we’re not in Paris anymore,” Bella muttered as she slipped into the booth, tossing her designer bag on the seat like it might catch something.

Peter sat down across from her with a sigh, cracking his knuckles. “It’s not supposed to be Paris,” he muttered.

“It’s just a place we like,” I added, sliding into the booth beside him, trying to keep my tone level. "It’s quiet. Real.”

Elena let out a tiny scoff. “Yeah, too real. You guys really hang out here? Like, by choice?”

“It’s charming in a... humble sort of way,” Portia offered, but even that sounded fake. Like she was trying not to laugh.

I caught Damian’s eye again. He was sitting rigidly, arms crossed, jaw tight. Peter looked like he was mentally checking out. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I’d thought maybe, just maybe, spending time together in a place that meant something to us would help bridge the gap—help the Ramsey sisters understand why we were so close to Anna, and maybe why they’d never be able to just replace her.

But instead, we were watching them pick apart something sacred.

“I like the booths,” I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself. “They creak.”

Bella arched a perfectly shaped brow. “That's a plus?”

Before I could say anything, Peter’s voice cut through. “Maybe we should go.”

My eyes flicked at him. He was already halfway out of the booth, eyes narrowed at Bella, like he was two seconds from telling her exactly what he thought of her attitude.

“We just got here,” Elena said, frowning.

“We can take it to-go,” Damian said sharply, his voice cool. “Plenty of cafés in town that serve overpriced lattes with gold flakes or whatever.”

Bella blinked at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Damian gave a dry laugh. “Nothing. Just wondering why we thought this was a good idea.”

I felt the tension humming under my skin, my hands clenched into fists under the table. I opened my mouth to say something—to tell them we were leaving, to stop this mess before it got worse—but that’s when the bell above the door rang again.

And everything shifted. I saw Peter's face go white and Damian looked like he was cursing beneath his breath. I turned just as Anna walked in.

My heart stopped. Literally froze as I watched her take in the scene of us sitting in the booth with the Ramsey sisters. Courtney stood beside her, her face a mask of pure rage as her fists clenched beside her.

I slipped out of the booth and opened my mouth to explain when I saw Anna give a little hand signal at her side before she quickly morphed her facial features and marched over to us, a fuming Courtney close behind her.

"Well, well, well, what a...." Bella was cut off when Anna shoved her with so much force that she almost stumbled. "Hey! What the hell!" Portia hissed as she moved to take hold of Bella's arm to steady her.

Anna ignored them and slipped into the booth, Courtney following her lead. Anna pasted a brilliant smile on her face and propped a hand on the table before perching her chin in her palm.

"This is my favorite spot. Isn't that right, Court?" Anna said as Courtney grinned beside her.

"Sure is. Coffee's great. Pastries to die for. Even better when it's shared. Right Marcus?" Courtney lifted an amused eyebrow as Peter snickered beside me and Damian shuffled to move back into the booth.

"What do you think you're doing?" Courtney asked him through gritted teeth, and he quickly shifted back to stand behind Peter, who was trying his best to muffle his laughter behind a fist.

"Anna, this was all Marcus's idea," Peter said finally, pointing a finger in my direction.

Anna angled her head to me, a wicked smile turning up at the corner of those inviting lips. "Is that so?" she patted the space beside her as her eyes pulled me in.

"Excuse me, they came here with us," Bella chirped as she and her sisters stood in a line, hands on hips and glossy lips turned up in sneers.

"You're excused," Courtney added as she shot Damian a veiled look and then took up the menu to look through it. "Peter, want a milkshake?"

"Cookies and cream!" Peter answered as he slipped into the booth and shimmied himself close to Courtney. Courtney smiled at him before shooting another annoyed glance in Damian's direction.

Anna gave me a look that said, What's up with these two? But I just shrugged as I looked over at Damian. He looked like he was ready to jump the booth when Anna suddenly motioned for him to come sit beside her.

I looked on in shock as both my brothers made themselves comfortable with Anna and Courtney, while I was left standing beside the booth with Bella and her sisters.

Portia stomped her feet and the sound echoed in the quiet cafe, annoying Damian further. "Just leave if you're annoyed. Stop ruining people's evening. We brought you here to have a nice evening. If you're going to be a brat, feel free to go elsewhere." Damian then did something like a double take and then leaned over the table to look at Courtney. "I mean, Marcus brought them here. Not me. I didn't even want to come here. Right Pete?"

Peter chose that time to reach over and pinch Damian's cheek. "Look at you, trying to be all cute. It's an eye sore." Peter winked and then turned to Courtney beside him. "He's a dimwit, Court. Stick with me babe, I'll introduce you to some real men."

Damian slammed his open palm on the table, making everyone jump, before sliding out of the booth and walking out of the cafe.

"Peter, that was uncalled-for," Anna said softly as she looked at the closed door again.

"He needs to man up sometimes. His hot and cold attitude isn't a turn on," Peter said as he nudged Courtney in the shoulder, but she didn't respond. She just kept looking over at the door as though waiting to see if Damian would come back. But he didn't.

"Dimwit Damian," Courtney muttered as she leaned back in the booth, folding her arms across her chest.

Anna gave me a look, but I didn't know what to do from here.

"Marcus, we're ready to head back to the hotel," Bella said as she and her sisters adjusted their bags on their shoulders, annoyance plastered on their faces.

Anna mouthed 'Go' to me before she nodded her head for Peter to follow me out.

"Let's go then," I said as a smile pulled across Bella's face, assuming she had won in this scenario, and she held her chin high as she and her sisters led the way out. I stuck back a few seconds to lean in and give Anna a quick peck on the cheek before quickly walking out. My phone chimed, and I fished it out of my jacket pocket to see a message from Anna.

There better be no goodbye kisses when you drop them off. Peter will rat you out.

I smiled as I tucked my phone back in my pocket and slid into the driver's seat. Damian sat silently in the front passenger seat while Peter stuck his airpods in his ears as we tried our best to endure the ride.

"Floor it before I smother them with my duffle bag," Damian gritted, and I smirked as Peter leaned forward between the two front seats. "I'll help. Say the word."

"Stop it, you two," I said as I floored the accelerator, earning myself an echo of high-pitched screams mixed with gratifying laughter.