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Ethan looked between the three of them, his corporate armor reduced to ash. With a stiff, defeated posture, he turned and marched out of the room. Julian followed close behind, pulling the door shut.

Sarah exhaled, the tension draining from her shoulders. She turned to Lily. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Lily breathed, genuinely meaning it. "I really am."

A minute later, the door opened again. Julian walked back in, his stern expression dissolving the second his eyes landed on his wife. He crossed the room, cupping Sarah’s cheek with a gentle hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice transformed, laced with deep, protective devotion.

"I'm fine," Sarah murmured, leaning into his touch.

Julian pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead.

Lily watched the exchange from her desk, her heart swelling at the beautiful, unspoken intimacy on display.

It was a testament to the unconditional, fiercely protective love she had always admired from afar.

And as her thoughts drifted to a gray pickup truck and a man with calloused hands, she knew, with breathtaking clarity, she finally had that exact love for herself.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ethan

The maître d' tapped his silver fountain pen on the leather-bound reservation book, offering a tight, condescending smile. "I apologize, sir. We have no record of your reservation for tonight."

Ethan felt his jaw clench, a knot of deep, humiliating panic forming in his stomach. He had spent weeks calling in favors just to secure a table at the exclusive French restaurant in Mayfair. He wanted to impress Lily. He wanted to show her that he was a man of the world, someone who could give her the very best.

Instead, the entire evening devolved into an unmitigated disaster.

They were forced to wait forty minutes in a cramped, drafty foyer. When they were finally seated, the hostess placed them at a tiny table right next to the swinging kitchen doors. The service was atrocious, the food arrived cold, and to make matters worse, a passing waiter bumped their table and spilled a glass of ice water directly onto the pristine white tablecloth, splashing freezing water all over Ethan’s tailored cuffs.

Ethan was mortified. His pride was severely bruised, and he spent the entire dinner apologizing, desperately trying to salvage the ruined evening.

When they finally stepped out of the restaurant onto the London pavement, the universe delivered its final, fatal blow. The skies opened up without warning, unleashing a torrential downpour. There were no cabs in sight. Within seconds, they were entirely drenched. Lily’s elegant silk dress clung tightly to her skin, and her hair was plastered to her cheeks.

Ethan stood frozen on the sidewalk, bracing himself. He expected her to cross her arms, curse his name, and hail the first passing car to leave him standing alone in the street.

"Lily, I am so incredibly sorry," Ethan shouted over the roar of the rain, stripping off his ruined suit jacket to hold it over her head. "This is a waking nightmare."

Instead of glaring at him, Lily threw her head back and laughed.

It was a bright, musical sound that cut right through the miserable, freezing weather. She wiped the rain from her eyes, looking up at him with genuine, unbothered amusement. "A nightmare? Ethan, you're literally dripping. You look like a very handsome, very sad golden retriever."

"I wanted tonight to be perfect for you," he groaned, swiping a hand down his wet face.

Lily’s smile softened into something breathtakingly tender. She stepped right into his space, uncaring about the downpour, and rested her hands on his chest. "Let's just go to my place."

They retreated to her cramped flat. Lily disappeared into the bedroom and emerged wearing a pair of faded sweatpants and an oversized, incredibly worn university t-shirt. She tossed him a dry towel, her eyes dancing with amusement, and grabbed her phone.

They ordered a pepperoni pizza from a cheap local shop down the street. When the delivery guy arrived, they didn't even bother setting the table or grabbing plates. They sat cross-legged on her cheap living room rug, the cardboard box resting open between them.

"You have to admit," Lily mused, picking up a greasy slice of pizza, "the ambiance here is significantly better. No swinging kitchen doors. No waiters trying to drown you."

"The service is definitely an upgrade," Ethan joked, the tight knot in his chest finally undoing itself.

Lily let out a bright giggle. She shifted closer on the rug, folding her legs beneath her, and reached out. "Hold still," she murmured.

Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, wiping away a small smudge of tomato sauce. The physical contact sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to his core. She didn't pull away. Instead, she let her hand trail down his jawline, her hazel eyes locking onto his with a stunning, tender affection.