Page 59 of One Baddie for Three Daddies

"Who wants breakfast?" he asks, brandishing a carton of eggs like it's some rare treasure.

"Just don't burn anything," Bianca teases, wrapping herself in one of the blankets.

James smirks, leaning against the counter. "Let's hope he’s gotten better since college."

I sit down at the small table, watching them move around each other with ease. It’s like slipping into an old pair of shoes—comfortable and familiar.

Bianca joins me, her fingers intertwining with mine under the table. She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs contentedly. "Last night was... something else."

"Yeah," I say quietly, squeezing her hand. "It was."

Alex turns from the stove, scrambling eggs with exaggerated skill. "You know," he says, "I’ve missed this."

"Missed what?" James asks as he sets out plates.

"Us," Alex replies simply. "All of us together."

Bianca nods, her eyes softening as she looks around at us. "I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now."

We eat breakfast in a comfortable silence, broken only by occasional jokes and memories from college days that float to the surface like bubbles in champagne.

As we clear up and prepare to disembark from the yacht later that morning, there's an unspoken understanding between us all—a recognition that this connection we share is unique and worth holding onto.

But now, standing across from that coffee shop window watching Bianca's deflated posture, I'm struck with a pang of regret for pushing her away. Those moments on the yacht were effortless because we let ourselves be vulnerable together. What did we do?

I sigh as I shake myself from the flashback, clenching my fists. Fuck, I miss her. The memory of her warmth against me, the sound of her laugh—it all seems so far away now. But despite my feelings for her and how perfect things were starting to go I know it was the right thing to do. For all of us. Still, seeing her so down tears me apart.

Across the street, Bianca is hunched over the table, her shoulders drooping as if the weight of the world is pressing down on them. She's barely holding it together, her usual confidence nowhere in sight. I remember how she used to light up every room she walked into, commanding attention without even trying. Now, she looks like a shadow of herself, and it kills me to see her this way.

I pull my jacket tighter around me as a breeze rolls in from the ocean. My mind keeps drifting back to that morning on James’s yacht—the way we all felt so right together. But this isn’t college anymore. We’re adults with careers and responsibilities. We couldn’t let ourselves get dragged back into that whirlwind again.

Yet still, here I am, standing across the street, unable to tear my eyes away from her. My heart pounds as so many memories of our past flood back. It's infuriating how she still has this effect on me, how she can make me feel like a lovesick fool without even seeing me. But damn it, I can't help it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my trance. I glance at the screen. Alex. Fuck, I'm late.

"Where the hell are you?" he asks, his tone bordering on frantic.

I drag a hand through my hair, stalling. "Got held up with something."

"Something? Liam, we're supposed to be going over the final budget for the hotel. You're twenty minutes late."

"Yeah, yeah, calm down. I'm on my way," I say, though I make no move to leave my spot.

"On your way? Where are you even at?" Alex's irritation is palpable.

I shift my gaze back to Bianca through the window. She’s standing now, her expression tight as she gestures towards some design plans. Her professionalism is impeccable, even though I know she’s barely holding it together.

"I'm just... wrapping up a quick errand," I lie smoothly. "Give me ten more minutes."

Alex sighs heavily. "Ten minutes, Liam. We can't afford delays right now."

"I know," I say. "I’ll be there."

He hangs up without another word. I shove the phone back into my pocket and exhale slowly. My feet remain rooted to the sidewalk, refusing to obey my brain’s command to move.

Watching her struggle to maintain her composure in that damn coffee shop, I realize just how deeply we’ve hurt her—again. The rational part of me screams to walk away and get back to work; this mess isn't worth jeopardizing our business over.

But something stronger roots me in place—the need to protect her, even if from a distance. Bianca deserves better than this tangled web we've woven around her heart.

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