The sight steadies me, reminding me that I’m safe.
“Naomi.”Olivia’s dramatic greeting echoes across the café as she rises from her table, designer sunglasses pushed into her dark hair. Her embrace engulfs me in expensive perfume and genuine warmth. Despite our different backgrounds—she’s practically mafia royalty while I grew up sheltered by traditional upper class parents—we share the fundamental experience of surviving abusive marriages.
The café buzzes with mid-morning activity. Business meetings, friends catching up, solitary patrons absorbed in laptops or books. I scan the space automatically, a habit developed during my marriage when any public outing carried the risk of triggering Lucas’s jealousy. The behavior, once necessary for survival, now serves a different purpose—ensuring no familiar faces might recognize me.
“You look amazing,” Olivia declares, holding me at arm’s length for inspection. “That sweater is divine. Is it new?”
I smooth the soft cashmere self-consciously. It’s one of the pieces Micah brought from my closet at his apartment, chosen with surprising thoughtfulness. “No, I just haven’t worn it in a while.”
She loops her arm through mine and steers me toward her table where two cappuccinos await. “I ordered for us both. And these incredible almond croissants you have to try.”
The pastries look professional—laminated dough folded precisely, almonds arranged with artistic care. My fingers itch to recreate them, to experiment with the ratios of butter to flour, to perfect the process.
“So tell me everything,” Olivia demands once we’re settled. “How are you holding up?”
I take a careful sip of cappuccino, buying time to formulate an answer that won’t reveal too much. The foam is silky, the espresso perfectly extracted. “I’m okay. Better than expected, actually.”
“Mmm.” She studies me over the rim of her cup. “You do seem different. More centered somehow.”
Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember exactly why I feel so centered—Micah’s strong hands on my body, his praise washing over me like honey, the way he makes me feel safe and cherished anddesired. “It’s just nice to have space to breathe.”
“Space. Right.” Her knowing smile suggests she’s intuited more than I’ve revealed. “And how’s Micah?”
The question catches me off guard, though it shouldn’t. She knows Micah has given me a safe place to stay until the dust settles from Lucas’s death. But Olivia has always been perceptive, especially regarding matters of the heart. Still, I attempt deflection. “He’s been very protective.”
“I bet he has.” She leans forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Honey, I’ve seen how that man looks at you. ‘Protective’ doesn’t begin to cover it.”
My heart stutters. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I grew up around powerful men. I know that look—like he’d burn the world down to keep you safe. The question is, how do you feel about him?”
The directness of her question startles a laugh from me. “It’s complicated.”
“Because he’s Lucas’s father?” Her expression holds no judgment, only understanding. “Sweetie, after what that bastard put you through, you deserve happiness wherever you find it. And Micah … well, let’s just say I’ve heard things about him that suggest he’s exactly what you need.”
Curiosity pricks at me. “What kinds of things?”
“Just that he’s old-school. Honorable, despite his profession. The kind of man who takes care of what’s his.” Her smile turns wicked. “And incredibly dominant in the bedroom, if rumors are true.”
“Olivia.” I glance around, but no one’s paying attention to our conversation. Still, my cheeks flame at how accurate her assessment is.
She laughs at my embarrassment. “Oh honey, your face says everything. Good for you. You deserve someone who knows how to treat you right.”
Her easy acceptance of my unconventional relationship with Micah lifts the weight of worry I’ve been carrying. “It should feel wrong, shouldn’t it? Being with Lucas’s father?”
“Why? Because society says so?” She waves this away with perfectly manicured fingers. “Society also said I should stay with Vinny despite the bruises. Sometimes the heart knows better than arbitrary rules.”
Her words strike deep, articulating something I’ve struggled to express. My connection with Micah defies conventional morality yet feels more right than my marriage ever did. He dominates with careful consideration, always attentive to myneeds and boundaries. His strength makes me feel safe rather than afraid.
“Now,” Olivia declares, clearly done with serious conversation, “we’re going shopping. You need new clothes. Some things that will drive that man of yours crazy. And I happen to know Lydia’s working at Violet Confidence today.”
The prospect of seeing another friend, of extending this brief taste of normalcy, proves too tempting to resist. “I should probably check with Micah first.”
“Text him then. But quickly, because there’s this gorgeous emerald dress that would look amazing on you.”
I pull out my burner phone from Micah.
Naomi