Damien's POV
I'd barely sat down on the edge of my bed, laptop open but completely forgotten, when the door creaked open without a knock — which meant only one person.
Vivienne.
She stepped in with all the confidence in the world, her long hair swinging past her hips, one hand balancing a tray, the other carrying my favorite takeout.
She didn't say anything about earlier.
Not girlfriend, not Emery, not the way I hadn't denied any of it.
She just gave me that too-bright smile and said, "I brought you dinner, dummy. You forgot to eat again."
Like she hadn't just shattered my brain twelve hours ago.
She plopped the tray down on my desk and then—because of course she did—walked straight over and flopped next to me on the bed like it was hers.
"You're welcome," she added, tugging my arm until it was around her waist. Her voice was soft. "I know you don't like eating alone."
I stared at her. At the way her lashes brushed her cheeks when she looked down. The way she always made herself fit into my space. The way she knew every version of me — the cold one, the tired one, the one that didn't smile — and never once treated me like I needed to be fixed.
She didn't even ask if she could come in.
She just did.
Because this was us.
And I was slowly losing my mind because I didn't know where "us" ended anymore.
"You okay?" she asked gently.
"Yeah."
"Liar."
She poked my cheek. "Is it your head again? Or… did I do something?"
Her voice faltered, just barely.
That tiny crack told me she hadn't forgotten anything. She'd just chosen to act like she had.
"No," I said finally. "You didn't do anything. I just—"
I just don't know how to admit it felt right, hearing you call yourself mine.
I swallowed it back. "Long day. Law girl?"
She grinned. "Started at six. I wanted to cry. But then I remembered you hadn't eaten. So here I am."
She leaned her head against my shoulder like she always did.
My hand moved to her waist like it always did.
And somehow, this always was starting to feel more dangerous than anything else.
Because maybe Luca was right.
Maybe I didn't hate the way it sounded.
Maybe I never did.