The private jet touched down with a gentle sigh, the wheels rolling along the smooth tarmac like a whisper across silk. Eve looked out the window as the familiar outline of Westwood came into view, its skyline smaller than Bexlin’s, its pace calmer, its air somehow softer. Her chest tightened, but not with dread this time; this was the closest she had come to something like peace in years.
Ryan glanced at her, watching the way her eyes softened, the way her mouth trembled just slightly at the corner. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Something unspoken sat between them now, fragile and warm. He didn’t touch her, but his presence wrapped around her like a steady arm.
They didn’t go straight to the Rodrigos’ restaurant. It was better this way, Eve wanted to surprise them, not wal
