The day slid quietly into late morning. The sky had brightened, the wind off the ocean warmer now, carrying the faint brine of salt and something floral from the garden below. Andrea had spent the last hour prepping ingredients for lunch: a simple seafood risotto, something she could lose herself in. Cooking had always been her balance point. Whenever her head grew too noisy, her hands knew what to do.
She worked by rhythm; knife against board, the soft hiss of butter melting in a pan, the sizzle of shallots. Her mind drifted, still replaying flashes of last night and the morning after: Daniel’s smile, his quiet way of watching her like he saw everything. It felt almost unreal, how easy it had become between them. Maybe too easy.
He had said he wanted to keep things honest. But sometimes
