Page 51 of The Breaking Point

Descending the stairs, I can hear the boys arguing in front of the door.

“You open it,” Alex says.

“You do it,” Jack counters.

“You’re older,” Alex shoots back.

“Exactly. Listen to your elders, open the door.”

I laugh under my breath and call out, “Boys, open the door before he thinks you’ve lost your minds.”

Neither moves. I sigh, step between them, and pull open the door myself.

Aiden is standing there, looking… well, devastating. He’s in his best suit, tailored and dark, crisp shirt open just enough at the collar. He looks dapper. Damn. I guess he had the same idea.

The boys breathe out “Dad,” like the weight of the world has been lifted. Then they both throw themselves at him, hugging him hard enough to knock him a step back.

“Hi, boys,” he says with a surprised laugh, ruffling their hair. “I haven’t been gonethatlong.”

As soon as they realize what they’re doing, they step back awkwardly. Jack rubs the back of his head, just like Aiden does. “Uh… where you guys going?”

Aiden smiles, extending his hand to me. “I’m taking your mom out. Dinner and dancing.”

I take his hand, conscious of the boys watching us like we’re a live soap opera. I’m tempted to snap my fingers in front of their faces.

“Alright, bedtime,” Aiden says, looking between them. “You’ve got school tomorrow. I’ll come by in the morning to take you, okay?”

He’s still looking at me when he says it. I nod, more than fine with it. We walk past them, their wide eyes still tracking us. Aiden opens the passenger-side door and I slip inside. Before getting in himself, he lets out a sharp whistle that gets the boys' attention. He gestures something quick and firm with his hand. They nod and finally head back inside.

Aiden slides into the driver’s seat. We back out of the driveway.

“I, uh… I got us a reservation at Étoile,” he says.

Étoile. I’ve heard of it. Romantic. Candlelight. White tablecloths. Soft music. French accents. And a dessert cart they wheel right up to your table.

I glance sideways at him, trying not to show anything. His eyes meet mine, steady but unreadable.

Silence fills the car. Not hostile, just thick. Unfamiliar. His hand rests on the gearshift. Mine clutches the edge of my purse. It's like neither of us knows where to start, or whether starting is even safe.

When we arrive at Étoile, Aiden pulls up to the valet stand. A young man in a black vest and glossy shoes opens my door with a polite nod.

Aiden steps out on his side and, without saying a word, tosses the keys to the valet. The hostess greets us with a professional smile. “Reservation for Bennet,” Aiden says.

She nods, checks her list, and gestures for us to follow. The walk through the restaurant feels longer than it should. I notice couples leaning close to each other, laughing softly, wine glasses half full. I wonder if we ever looked like that.

At our table, she sets down two menus and leaves with a murmured promise that our server will be right with us. We sit. The menus go up immediately, shields we both hide behind. The silence between us stretches again, but now it feels different, stranger. We’ve had silences before, plenty of them. But not this kind. I glance at him behind the edge of my menu. He’s doing the same. We’re both pretending to read. Both too unsure to break the quiet.

After the waiter leaves with our order, Aiden leans back slightly and says, “Soo…” at the same time as me. We both laugh, the tension finally cracking.

“This is weird, right?” he asks, still smiling. “I think we’re just putting too much pressure on ourselves.”

“Totally,” I say. His shoulders drop a little, then he nods, lips still curved but quieter again. The silence creeps back.

I sip my water and ask, “So, what’d you do today?”

“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “after we… parted ways, I went back to the apartment and, uh… it was a little weird until is saw Jeremy there.”

I look at him, confused. “What?”

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