Page 14 of Ardent Desires

We burst into the diner, dripping wet, and the warmth hits me immediately. The smell of pancakes and bacon and coffee floods my senses, and I’m instantly comforted.

Alexander shakes his head, droplets flying off his hair. He’s grinning like a kid, and it’s throwing me off completely. I’ve never seen him like this—light, easy. The grumpy, stoic guy from work has disappeared.

“You two look like you swam here,” a woman behind the counter says, smiling warmly at us.

“Close enough,” Alexander replies, leading me to a booth by the window. “Same order as always, Nancy. Two hot chocolates, extra whipped cream.”

I slide into the booth, watching him in this new element. He’s completely at ease, like this is his second home or something. The woman—Nancy—gives him a wink and walks off to make the drinks.

“You come here a lot?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around this side of him.

He leans back in the booth, looking around the diner with something that almost resembles nostalgia. “Used to come here all the time when I was in uni. Late nights, early mornings... this place got me through a lot.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You went to school around here?”

“NYU,” he says, nodding. “Studied business and engineering. Most nights, I’d be here cramming for finals or working on projects.”

I look around the diner, trying to picture him here, younger, less polished, maybe even stressed. It’s... a strange thought. “So, this place is like home?”

He glances out the window, watching the rain for a second. “In a way. It’s the only restaurant that’s ever felt like that to me.”

There’s something in his tone, something soft that catches me off guard. It’s not the kind of thing I expect someone like him to say.

“Is that what you’re trying to build at the French Riviera?” I ask, leaning forward, genuinely curious. “Something that feels like home?”

He looks back at me, and there’s that glint in his eye again—the one that makes it hard to read him. “Let’s not talk about work,” he says, his voice low. “We’ve done enough of that tonight.”

I blush, feeling like I’ve overstepped. “Right. Sorry.”

Nancy comes over with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with so much whipped cream it’s practically spilling over the sides. She sets them down, smiling at Alexander like they’ve known each other forever.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she says, patting his arm before heading back behind the counter.

I stare down at the mug, feeling the warmth seep into my fingers. The whipped cream is already melting into the chocolate, and I’m pretty sure this is going to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

“So,” he says after a beat, lifting his mug, “what do you think?”

I take a tentative sip, the sweet, rich chocolate warming me from the inside out. I close my eyes for a second, savoring it. “Okay, this is incredible.”

“Told you,” he says, grinning over his mug. “Best hot chocolate in the city.”

I laugh softly, feeling more relaxed than I’ve been in days. This feels...nice. Just sitting here, sipping hot chocolate, talking. It’s so normal, and yet, nothing about this moment feels normal because it’s withhim.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving mine. “So, what about you? What feels like home to you?”

The question catches me off guard. No one’s ever asked me that before. I stir my hot chocolate with my spoon, thinking about it.

“I don’t know,” I admit after a moment. “I guess... I haven’t really found that yet.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, waiting.

“I mean, I had it with my mom, I guess. But after she died, it was like I’ve been trying to find something, some place, but... nothing’s felt right since then.”

He nods slowly, like he understands more than he’s saying. “It’s hard. Losing someone like that.”

I look down at my mug, the warmth suddenly feeling bittersweet. “Yeah.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just sipping our drinks, listening to the rain hammer against the windows. It’s late, and I should feel tired, but something about this moment—being here with him—keeps me wide awake.

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