18

Jennifer

I slowly opened my eyes to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the window. I hadn’t felt this rested in a long time.

Honestly, it felt like I’d been given a chance to breathe after a long time underwater.

Stretching, I could feel the slight ache in my muscles, a reminder of the events from the night before. My heart skipped a beat as the memories came rushing back.

Oh, God. I had crossed a line. I had spent the night with my best friend’s father. What was I going to do? How could I face Bella now?

I couldn’t shake the weight of the situation. The guilt churned inside me. What would she think if she knew? I didn’t want to break her heart.

With a heavy sigh, I pulled the covers over my head, hoping to block out the world for a moment longer. But I knew that hiding wouldn’t solve anything. I couldn’t stay locked away in this room forever. Eventually, I’d have to face the reality of the situation.

Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly lowered the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor greeted my feet as I stood up, the silence of the room adding to the weight in my chest. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I could already hear the soft clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. It seemed Vincent was already up.

He was always an early riser, and I’d never understood it. I had always felt more alive when the world around me was quiet and still.

Now, though, the silence felt suffocating. How was I supposed to face him? What if everything changed now? What if the bond we’d shared had been a fleeting mistake?

But then again… what if it wasn’t?

I shook my head, trying to clear the swirling thoughts. I needed to face this head-on, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I paused, looking down at myself in the mirror. Panic set in when I realized I was still only in the same clothes from the night before, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I quickly closed the door and tried to gather my composure. I had to decide how to move forward.

I had a few options: I could walk out there as I was, hoping I wouldn’t draw too much attention to myself. Or I could find something to wear—maybe borrow something from Bella’s room. Or, perhaps it would be best if I just stayed hidden in the room until Vincent left.

But I knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t keep running away. I had to face him and whatever was coming next.

I hesitated in Bella’s closet, rifling through her wardrobe with a mixture of urgency and guilt. My mind buzzed with conflicting emotions—panic, shame, and something I didn’t want to put a name to. Running away seemed like the easiest solution, but I knew better. Pretending yesterday never happened wouldn’t erase it. I had to face Vincent sooner or later.

After a few moments of searching, I found it—a little white sundress hanging in the back. It was sweet and innocent, completely at odds with how I felt inside. But maybe that was why it was perfect. I needed something to counteract the weight of my guilt.

Slipping the dress over my head, I let it settle just above my thighs. The fit was good, though I frowned when I realized Bella’s bras wouldn’t work for me. With no other option, I decided to go braless.

I found a brush and worked through my wavy hair, watching my reflection carefully. When I finished, I pulled at the hem of the dress, trying to cover more of my legs. Sighing, I pushed down the lingering embarrassment and headed for the door.

I paused for a moment, my hand on the doorknob. This was it. Once I stepped out, I’d have to face him. My stomach flipped nervously. What was I supposed to say? What was he going to say?

Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped into the hallway. The soft hum of the house greeted me, and soon after, the comforting aroma of pancakes and coffee wafted through the air.

As I entered the kitchen, I saw him standing at the stove, flipping a stack of golden pancakes. The sight of him took my breath away for a second. He looked… at ease. Like nothing had changed.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw me, his eyes softening. “Good morning,” he said, his deep voice warm and calm. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, my hands fidgeting at my sides. “Good morning. It smells amazing. Blueberry pancakes?” I asked, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

He nodded, turning back to the stove. “Your favorite, right?”

“Yeah,” I said softly, my heart skipping a beat. “Since I was a little kid.”

The memory of countless mornings at their house flashed through my mind. Bella and I had grown up eating blueberry pancakes at this very table. The familiarity of it tugged at my heartstrings, even as the tension between us hummed beneath the surface.

I walked to the fridge, grabbing butter and syrup, trying to ground myself in the mundane act. Meanwhile, Vincent plated the pancakes and bacon, setting them in front of me with a quiet care that made my chest tighten.

He slid a steaming cup of coffee toward me next, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I thought you could use something comforting this morning,” he said gently.

I stared at him, unsure how to respond. He seemed so calm, so composed, as if everything was normal. Did he feel the weight of what had happened, too? Or was he better at hiding it?

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He sat across from me, his own plate untouched for the moment. His gaze lingered on me, not with judgment but with something gentler, something I couldn’t quite name.

“Jennifer ,” he started, his voice low and steady, “about last night—”

My stomach flipped, and I immediately looked down at my plate, my appetite vanishing. “Please,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Can we… not talk about it? Not yet?”

His jaw tightened for a moment, but then he nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I picked up my fork, my hands shaking slightly, and took a bite of the pancakes. The familiar taste should have been comforting, but all it did was remind me of how much had changed.

We sat there in silence for a while, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between us.

“Thanks,” I said softly as I sat down at the kitchen island. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the fork, trying to steady my nerves. “About last night…”

Vincent looked up at me, his expression serious yet kind. “Let’s just enjoy breakfast for now, okay? We’ll talk later,” he said gently.

I hesitated, staring at him for a moment before nodding. His suggestion was a relief, a chance to put off the inevitable conversation for just a little longer.

The first bite of pancakes brought a rush of nostalgia. The familiar taste was like a warm hug, soothing my frazzled thoughts. No one made pancakes like Vincent —not even my mom, who wasn’t around much to cook anything, let alone breakfast.

Growing up, my mom and dad were always busy with their careers—Mom, a high-powered lawyer, and Dad, a doctor who spent more time in the city than at home. They barely noticed if I was around or not. I still remembered the weekend when I was ten and stayed at Bella’s house. My mom didn’t even realize I was gone. After that, Bella and I joked about setting up a permanent room for me at their house.

But none of that mattered now. Yesterday loomed large in my mind, impossible to ignore.

I glanced at Vincent again. He was eating quietly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The tension between us eased slightly as we ate in silence, the mundane act of sharing a meal grounding me.

After a while, he broke the silence. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. Maybe we could spend some time by the pool?”

I smiled, grateful for the casual suggestion. “That sounds nice. I love relaxing out there.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good.”

The silence that followed felt less heavy. I sipped the coffee he’d made me, savoring the rich, comforting taste.

“These are really good,” I said, gesturing to the pancakes. “Just like I remember.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he replied, meeting my gaze briefly. “You know, I’ve been making them for you ever since you were little.”

I nodded, a bittersweet smile crossing my face. “Yeah, you have.”

We sat quietly for a moment longer before I decided to break the tension.

“Aren’t we going to talk about yesterday?” I asked, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my chest.

His expression shifted, growing serious but not unkind. There was something in his eyes—something intense and unreadable.

“We talked about one of the things we needed to address last night,” he said, his tone carrying a subtle weight that made my cheeks flush. “But we still need to discuss what you found in that room.” His voice turned more serious, pulling me back to the moment.

I nodded, bracing myself for what was to come. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

Vincent let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on me. “You were never meant to see that room or anything in it,” he began. “But now that you have, it changes everything. We need to figure out how to move forward from here.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I said softly, the guilt creeping back into my voice.

“I know, sweet girl,” he replied, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not scolding you. I punished you last night for it, and now it’s over and done with. We just move on.”

He stood from his chair and came to sit beside me, his presence both reassuring and intimidating.

“First and foremost,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, “Bella can never know about any of this. I’ve worked hard to keep my past hidden from her so she can have a normal life. You have to promise me, Jennifer . Promise me you won’t tell her.”

I hesitated, my curiosity battling with my loyalty. Who was this man, really? What secrets was he hiding? And why did I want to know everything about him?

But I also knew he was serious. Whatever had happened yesterday, whatever that room meant, it was something I couldn’t bring into Bella’s life.

“I won’t tell her,” I said quickly, meaning every word. “I promise.”

He studied me for a moment, his gaze unwavering. Then, finally, he nodded, a hint of relief softening his features.

“Good,” he said quietly.