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Loose 138

    <b>Chapter </b><b>138 </b>


    Perfect<b>. </b>I needed to pick his brain about investments anyway. [Sure.]


    His reply was a cheerful emoji.


    The gate’s charging station was barely warm when my mother–inw’s caller ID shed. Yvonne’s petnt voice came through: “Mom<b>, </b><b>when </b>are youing home? I told Dad to tell you to buy me a present. Are you gonna get me one?”


    “No.” t. Final.


    “Don’t you love me anymore?” Her voice sharpened. “Do you even love me?”


    “Love’s transactional, sweetheart. Even maternal affection has terms.” Ice crystallized in my veins.


    “What did I do wrong? You’re being weird again. I don’t get it!” ssic Yvonne, ying dumb to evade ountability. She understood. She just refused to.


    The call died abruptly. I didn’t redial. Some bridges deserved to burn.


    By the time Inded in Hachester, it was past six in the evening. Straight from the airport, I headed to dinner. The taxi dropped me off at a secluded garden–style restaurant, its old–world charm entuated by the rain–freshened air.


    The parking lot, half–hidden beneath flowering trees, was nearly empty, except for one impossible–to–miss vehicle. Nathan’s Maybach gleamed under the soft glow of the lot lights, its sleek lines even more striking after the rain.


    As I approached, he stepped out of the car–tall, lean, dressed in a crisp white long–sleeved shirt that gave him that quiet<b>, </b>academic aura. The kind of man who looked like he spent more time with equations than people.


    Just then, a family emerged from the restaurant. A boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, zeroed in on the Maybach like a moth to a me.


    “Whoa!” He darted over, circling the car with wide–eyed awe before turning to Nathan. “Dude, is this yours?”


    Nathan smiled. “Yeah.”


    The kid’s face lit up like he’d just unlocked a cheat code for life. “If I study till my books fall apart… can I drive something like this someday?”


    Nathan’s gaze flicked to me, amused, before he pped the boy’s shoulder. “Absolutely. Keep grinding.”


    The kid practically pranced back to his family, still craning his neck for onest look.


    When Nathan turned to me, there was a flicker of shyness in his eyes, but he held my stare anyway. “You made it.”


    “Mm. Let’s go in. I’m starving.” My tone was deliberatelyzy. Around him, something in me shifted, an unapologetic assertive the surface.


    sing <b>to </b>


    Maybe it was the way he radiated earnestness, like a man who’d never learned to armor himself against the world. And humans, <b>myself </b>included, couldn’t resist testing the softest targets.


    “This way.” He led me to a private booth, its warm lighting at odds with the tension coiling in the air. When we sat, he slid <b>the </b>menu toward me, fingers lingering a second too long.


    “Hope you don’t mind… just the two of us,” he murmured, eyes downcast.


    <b>14:57 </b><b>Tue</b>, <b>12 </b><b>Aug </b>


    I scanned the menu, lips quirking. “Three would be a crowd.”


    His head snapped up, then he caught my meaning and huffed a quietugh. “Yeah. Some things are better with two<i>.</i><i>” </i>


    “Don’t get any ideas. I meant dinner.” Teasing him was too easy.


    A flush crept up his neck. Oh, he definitely just did.


    I handed the menu back after ordering. Nathan added one more dish, and the moment the server left, the <i>door </i>clicked shut.


    Suddenly, the booth felt smaller. The air was thicker. And the unspoken thing between us? Way <i>too </i>loud.
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