Chapter 3

Lila's POV

I stared at Nathan's text for five minutes straight: "I don't remember us. But I'd like to. Can I take you to dinner?"

My finger hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to say yes right away. But I remembered his three-month "courtship" that felt more like a corporate acquisition, knew better.

"If you still want to when you're discharged, sure."

Send. Done. I flipped my phone face-down and went back to the cupcakes.

Nathan: "I'll want to."

Nathan: "I mean it."

Nathan: "Thank you."

I was smiling at my phone like an idiot. Get it together, Lila.

The next day, I went back to our house.

I stood in the bedroom doorway for a minute, looking at everything. Our bed, my nightstand with the lamp I picked out. The closet where half the space was mine.

I grabbed boxes from the garage and started packing. Clothes, toiletries, my favorite books, the framed photo of my parents.

But I left some stuff behind. The basic contract wife essentials. One week's worth of neutral outfits in the closet. Generic toiletries in the bathroom.

It took three trips to move everything to my apartment above the bakery. By the time I finished, the house looked like I'd barely lived there at all. Perfect!

Over the next week, I visited him every other day. Brought pastries. Stayed fifteen minutes max. Treated it like a chore I had to check off.

"You don't have to keep coming," Nathan said during my third visit. The bandages on his head were smaller now. He looked better.

"It's fine." I set down a box of chocolate croissants. "We're still married. People would notice if I didn't show up."

"Right. Keeping up appearances." He stared at the box. "These are my favorite."

"I know."

His head snapped up. "How?"

Because you told me on our second date. Because I've made them for you every Sunday for two years.

"Lucky guess."

Every visit was torture. He'd look at me with this intensity.

And I had to act like I didn't see it.

Fourth visit, Nolan was there. He gave me this look amused at what we were doing.

"Good news," Nolan said. "Doctor's releasing him tomorrow. Full month off work, though."

Nathan frowned. "A month? The board—"

"I'll handle it." Nolan was clearly enjoying himself. "You just rest. Recover."

Nathan looked straight at me. "And try to win back my wife?"

I almost dropped my coffee. Nolan's cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"If she'll let you," Nathan added quietly.

When did he learn to do that? That soft, vulnerable thing?

"We'll see." I got out of there fast.

Next afternoon, the shop bell rang.

I looked up from the mixer and there he was. Nathan. No suit this time. Dark jeans, black sweater that made his eyes look darker. Just a small bandage at his temple.

"Hi," he said.

"You're out." Real eloquent, Lila.

"Got discharged this morning." He scanned the shop, my little corner of the world with its cream walls and vintage botanical prints. "This place is really beautiful."

"Thanks." I wiped buttercream off my hands. "What can I get you?"

"Everything looks incredible." He moved to the display case like he was studying art. "What's good?"

"Tiramisu's popular."

"I'll take that. And black coffee."

I plated it, made his coffee. Nathan took everything to the window table and sat down. Then just looked at me. Waiting.

I wiped the counter. It was already clean. He kept looking.

Finally I gave up and walked over. "Feeling okay?"

"Much better." He took a bite and his eyes went wide. "Holy shit, this is good."

"Thanks."

"The coffee flavor, it's perfect. Not overpowering." Another bite. "I could eat this every single day."

You used to.

"Glad you like it," I said.

He finished the whole thing in minutes. Just sat there staring at me.

"Nathan—"

"Can I keep coming here?" The question came out careful. Almost shy.

"It's a public bakery," I said. "Come whenever you want."

"No, I mean..." He frustrated with himself. "I want to get to know you. Even if we're just friends by the end of this. Even if nothing changes. I just want to try."

Every instinct screamed to say no. Stay smart.

But he was sitting in my shop looking at me like that. Asking for permission to be in my life.

"Okay," I heard myself say.

His whole face changed. Lit up. "Really?"

"But I have work to do."

"Right. Yes. Of course." He jumped up, reaching for his wallet.

"On the house."

"Lila—"

"Get-well gift."

He smiled, this genuine, unguarded thing. "Thank you."

I watched him leave. The second the door shut, I let out this long breath.

What are you doing? You're supposed to make him work for it.

But that smile when I said okay. God. I was so screwed.

He came every day after that. Sometimes twice.

At first he'd order something small, sit by the window, make awkward small talk. I'd give short answers. Keep my distance.

It was getting harder.

Because Nathan wasn't just showing up. He was paying attention.

He learned my regulars' names. "Happened to be walking by" when I needed help carrying supplies from my car.

And the way he looked at me. Like I was the most interesting thing in his entire world.

My defenses were crumbling.

Friday evening, golden hour. Shop empty. I was wiping tables when Nathan appeared in the doorway.

"We're closing," I said.

"I know." He came inside anyway. "I need to say something. I keep losing my nerve."

My heart started pounding. "What?"

"I know the contract's almost over." The words rushed out. "I know we're supposed to stay apart. Make the ending easier."

I gripped the rag in my hand.

"But I can't." His voice dropped. "Lila, I don't want to separate."

"What?"

"I know it's insane. We're a contract. I don't even remember starting this. But..." He took a breath. "That day in the hospital, when I saw you, my heart stopped. Then started again. Different. I've never felt anything like it."

"Nathan, that's just confusion from the accident—"

"It's not." He stepped closer. "This is the clearest thing I've ever felt."

I couldn't breathe. He was too close. Looking at me like that.

"Before my memory comes back," he said softly, "before I turn back into whoever I was, can I try? Can I pursue you? Not as your contract husband. Just as a guy who's falling for you."

"This isn't appropriate," I managed.

"I know."

"The contract—"

"Please." His voice cracked. "Even if nothing happens. Even if we end up separating anyway. Just let me try. Let me show you who I am. Who I want to be for you."

I stared at him. Oh my god! He's so cute like this, look at him, all nervous and earnest. This is exactly what I wanted.

I bit my lip, pretending to think about it. Let the silence stretch. His face started to fall and I almost caved right there.

"I don't know..." I said slowly, watching him panic.

"Please," he said again, more desperate this time. "I know I have no right to ask, but—"

"Okay," I whispered.

"Okay?"

"You can try. But I'm not promising anything. This might not work."

"I know." But he was grinning like I'd handed him the world. "That's enough. More than enough."

"Good." I stepped back before I did something stupid like kiss him. "Now go home. You're supposed to be resting."

"Yes ma'am." He headed for the door, stopped, turned back. "Lila?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

After he left, I locked up and leaned against the door.

My phone buzzed. Nolan.

Nolan: He just called me SCREAMING "she said yes" like he's sixteen. I'm actually crying. Best day ever.

I laughed and typed back: Phase one complete.