Page 26 of One Baddie for Three Daddies

"Ambitious is my middle name," I say with a grin, turning back to the stove. The smell of garlic and butter fills the air as I sauté the onions.

Bianca laughs softly, taking another sip of her wine. "I remember you burning toast back in college."

"Hey, I've come a long way since then," I retort, stirring the rice into the pan. "Besides, it's not about how you start; it's about how you finish."

"Smooth," she teases. "Very smooth."

We continue to banter as I cook, the conversation flowing easily between us. It's so natural, like we never lost touch. It’s as if she never even left.

"Remember that time we tried to make pasta from scratch?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I groan theatrically. "Yup. There was flour everywhere. And we ended up ordering pizza instead."

She giggles. "Yeah, that was a disaster."

"But a fun one," I add, turning to face her. "Like most things we did together."

Her expression softens, and she nods. "Yeah, it was fun."

The risotto is coming together nicely now, the rice creamy and rich with flavor. I plate the steak and add a generous portion of risotto beside it.

"Moment of truth," I say, setting her plate in front of her with a flourish.

She looks down at the dish, clearly impressed. "Wow, James. This looks... perfect."

"Taste it," I urge.

Bianca picks up her fork and takes a bite of the risotto. Her eyes widen in surprise as she savors the flavors.

"Damn," she says after swallowing. "This is amazing."

"Told you I've improved," I say smugly, taking a seat across from her.

We eat together, sharing bites and laughter. Everything is comfortable and intimate in a way that catches me off guard.

She meets my gaze over the rim of her glass. There's something in her eyes—something warm and familiar that stirs up old feelings I've tried to bury for years.

As we eat our meal, I'm struck by how easy it is to be with her again. It's like slipping into an old habit that's so much better than anything new I've tried since.

Bianca's eyes linger on mine. The warmth of the room, combined with the wine and the lingering taste of our dinner, makes everything surreal. The air between us is charged, thick with unspoken words.

"James," she starts, her voice hesitant. "Do you ever think about... what if things had been different?"

I take a sip of my wine, buying myself a moment to gather my thoughts. "All the time," I admit. "But things happened the way they did for a reason."

She nods slowly, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. "I know. It's just... back then, it felt like everything was right when we were all together."

A part of me wants to agree wholeheartedly. The memories of us—me, Alex, Liam, and Bianca—are some of the best I've ever had. But there's another part that reminds me we're not those carefree college students anymore.

"Things have changed," I say, my voice firm but gentle.

"Yeah," she whispers, looking down at her plate.

I reach across the table, placing my hand over hers. "But that doesn't mean we can't make new memories."

She looks up, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're right."

For a moment, we just sit there, the connection between us palpable. The questions in her eyes mirror my own thoughts. Could things ever work between us without Alex and Liam? The idea is foreign yet intriguing.

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