Page 6 of My Accidental Valentine

“We can drop the cake at the house, and I can take you to urgent care, just to make sure you didn’t break anything,” Adam says. I frown at him, unsure if he’s joking. But he’s not—those deep green eyes fixed on mine.

“My ego, maybe,” I say with a nervous laugh. And—oh God—Adam laughs too. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh.

“I ordered coffee,” Adam says a moment later, and I naturally assume he means for himself. But then the woman from behind the counter approaches our table, a small tray in hand and a warm smile on her lips—and there are definitely two cups on it.

I freeze, watching Adam, who looks completely unfazed.

“Your coffee,” the woman says, setting the tray down between us. Then, with a playful twinkle in her eye, she adds, “And a little something on the house for you both. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I look at the small dish between the cups. It’s a heart-shaped tiramisu, complete with two long spoons on either side. I blink, realizing she thinks we’re a couple. I open my mouth to correct her, but Adam beats me to it.

“Thank you so much,” he says, flashing her a charming smile.

I feel heat rising to my ears as I watch the woman walk away, then turn back to Adam. He’s completely unbothered, already picking up a spoon and digging into the tiramisu.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I say, wrapping my hands around the cup and taking a slow sip. The warmth spreads through my body, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on me,” Adam says, his voice soft. When I look up, he’s watching me with a small smile. “The tiramisu is great,” he adds casually. “You should try it.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, fully aware that I’ve now said “thanks” to him more times in the last fifteen minutes than I’ve probably said to anyone this entire week. My mind scrambles for something else to say, and somehow the worst possible thing comes tumbling out. “She…uh…thought we were a couple.”

The second the words leave my mouth, heat rushes to my face. OH HEAVENS AND ANGELS, WHY DID I HAVE TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD?

I take another sip of coffee, as if that’ll stop me from spiraling, but no such luck. I’m dizzy—like I might actually pass out. I swear, I’m usually a pretty chill guy, but when I get flustered, I turn into one of those awkward rom-com leads from the early 2000s—the kind of guy who knocks over an urn with the ashes of his love interest’s grandma.

Before I can completely dissolve into self-loathing, Adam runs a hand through his curls, his expression surprisingly calm. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “She asked if we were a couplebecause they have a special Valentine’s deal. I said yes.” His lips twitch slightly. “Sorry about that.”

Wait, what?

“It’s okay,” I manage, still processing. The guy must really love tiramisu. I take another sip of my coffee, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to react to that. The words hang in the air between us, and I feel like I’ve stepped into some alternate reality where Adam Payne casually pretends we’re a couple and doesn’t think it’s a big deal.

“So,” he says after a moment, leaning back and sipping his coffee as he looks at me from under his long lashes. “What did you want to talk about?”

Right. The talk.

I glance down at my cup, my fingers tracing the rim. I’m already second-guessing bringing it up, but honestly, this day couldn’t get any more awkward or humiliating, so…screw it. Let’s just do this.

“I…um.” The words stick in my throat as I clutch the coffee cup tighter, steadying my trembling hands. My palms feel clammy against the ceramic, and my mouth is so dry it feels like I’ve swallowed a handful of dust. For a second, I seriously wonder if I can even get the sentence out.

Finally, I meet Adam’s eyes. “Remember Peter’s birthday four years ago?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Adam’s expression changes in an instant—his face hardens, losing any trace of warmth.

“Yes. I do,” he says. He’s calm—too calm—and it sends a chill down my spine. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. He wouldn’t sound so sure if he didn’t.

The silence between us stretches. He’s waiting for me to continue.

I swallow hard. “Then…you probably remember how drunk I was that night?” I ask, my cheeks burning as my stomach twists into a painful knot.

Adam takes a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze unwavering, locked on mine—but he still doesn’t say anything.

My pulse is hammering in my ears as I take a shallow breath and try again. “So…” I pause, hoping—praying—he’ll say something, meet me halfway, make this even a fraction easier. But he doesn’t.

“What exactly did I do?” I finally ask, the words so small they barely make it past my lips.

Adam blinks, and for a split second, something flickers across his face. “What?” he asks, his tone detached, edged with something sharp.

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