ELLAS POV
I groaned as I shifted under the covers, my eyes barely cracking open. My head was a little fuzzy, and my body felt like it had finally given up on me. For a second, I wasn't sure what day it was—until the warm, unmistakable smell of bacon and pancakes floated into my room.
That was enough motivation to swing my legs off the bed. My feet touched the cold floor, and I winced. I grabbed my robe from the edge of the bed and pulled it around me before dragging myself down the hallway, following the scent like a zombie lured by brains.
Luke sat at the kitchen counter in a faded navy T-shirt and plain shorts, hunched over his laptop, fork in one hand, typing with the other. A plate of pancakes and crispy bacon sat beside him, and a half-empty mug of coffee steamed lazily on the counter.
"Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty," he said without looking up.
"Afternoon?" I croaked, blinking. "Wait… it's already afternoon?"
He finally looked at me, smirking. "Yup. Twelve-oh-five to be exact. I was starting to think you were in a coma."
"Honestly, it felt like one," I mumbled, dragging a stool out and sinking into it. "Also—what is that amazing smell? Pancakes?"
"Pancakes, bacon, and the best cup of coffee you'll have all week. You're welcome." He nudged the plate toward me with a little flourish.
I didn't even bother to pretend I wasn't starving. I picked up a fork and dug in like a woman possessed. "God, Luke. This is exactly what I needed. You're a National treasure, Luke. I didn't even eat last night."
He raised a brow. "Seriously? That explains the near-death shuffle you just did walking in here."
I rolled my eyes, my mouth still full. "Shut up. You know I'd die without you."
"I do, actually. I've accepted that I'm your emotional support human."
I snorted. "And chef. And part-time therapist."
He gave me a mock bow. "Add tech wizard to the list. Speaking of which, I'm thinking of applying to a new job. Something fresh, and with a better pay . I'm getting stir crazy working from home all the time."
"Really?" I asked, swallowing another bite. "I thought you loved the whole working-in-your boxers lifestyle ."
"They're shorts, thank you very much," he said, faux-offended. "Some days, sure. But I miss actual human contact. The New York breeze. Being yelled at by cab drivers. You know, the classics."
I laughed. "Well, you could always go sit in Times Square and let the chaos wash over you."
"Tempting," he said, then his eyes lit up. "Actually, how about we do something tonight? Drinks, maybe? Hit a bar, dance a little? You've been working nonstop."
I hesitated mid-sip. "I was actually thinking of starting that gym membership today. I've been wanting to get back into it."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not gonna spend the whole night there. You'll be back in time to shower, slap on some lip gloss, and let's go dance. Just a little."
"I have work tomorrow. I'm not trying to show up hungover and sweating vodka."
He pouted dramatically. "It's clear you don't love me anymore."
I laughed. "Please. You're one of my favorite people on this planet."
"Then cancel your imaginary plans and hang with me!"
"Tell you what—we'll do a movie night. Popcorn, candy, the whole thing."
He perked up. "Deal. But we're going out this weekend. No backing out."
"Scout's honor," I said, crossing my heart.
He sipped his coffee. "Speaking of work… what happened yesterday? You disappeared into the night like some tragic romance novel character."
I exhaled slowly. "Right. Yesterday."
"Uh oh."
"No, it's not that bad. Just… weird."
"Define weird."
I hesitated, then lowered my voice slightly. "Okay, so… the day started off normal. I made a new friend at work—really sweet girl—and we got invited to this event. I wasn't dressed for it, so we stopped at her place and I changed." "Hence the outfit switch."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Ah, mystery solved."
"And," I continued, "I met the boss."
Luke leaned forward. "Wait. The boss? Darius Vale?"
I nodded. "In the flesh. And let me just say, that man looks like he was carved by angels who moonlight as Vogue editors."
Luke burst out laughing. "Was he that hot?"
"He really is a beauty to behold," I said dreamily, then caught myself. "Anyway! I was asked to hand him a speech file for the event."
I paused.
Luke tilted his head. "You're holding something back."
I gave him a look. "You know I'm not supposed to talk about this stuff…"
"Ella." He clutched his heart. "I am but a humble civilian. Who am I going to tell? The pigeons on our fire escape?"
I laughed. "Fine. But this doesn't leave this kitchen."
He nodded solemnly. "Scout's honor."
I lowered my voice. "So… I handed him the file. We talked for like thirty seconds. Then—bam—he fainted. Collapsed. Right there."
Luke's eyes widened. "No way."
"They rushed him to the hospital. Alina—his assistant —dragged me along because I was the only witness, I guess. It was intense. That's why I got home so late and they gave me today off."
Luke stared at me for a second, then let out a long breath. "Wow. Okay. That's… way more dramatic than I expected. Honestly, my brain was coming up with some crazy theories last night."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
"I don't know. Secret agent missions. Abduction. You got hit on the head and forgot your name. The usual."
I shook my head, laughing. "You're insane."
"But glad you're okay. And that the hot boss didn't die in your presence."
I raised my coffee. "To surviving first impressions."
He clinked his mug against mine. "To weird days and even weirder jobs."
After breakfast was done, Luke went straight back into work mode, his focus snapping back to the screen like someone had flipped a switch. He barely noticed when I started clearing the plates.
Back in my room, I collapsed on the bed, phone in hand. I told myself I'd only check a few emails, just skim through. A couple of emails had come in, one from Karen checking in on how I was feeling, a calendar update for next week's PR tasks.
After a while, I tossed my phone aside and sat up, letting out a long sigh. The to-do list in my head could wait. What I really needed was a hot shower and a change of energy.
The water helped more than I expected. When I stepped out, I felt lighter—like I'd finally shaken off the weight of yesterday.
I pulled on my black high-waisted leggings, the fitted gym top I always liked but rarely wore, and my clean sneakers.
As I walked back out toward the living room, Luke was still in the exact same spot, his fingers hammering away at the keys.
"You've been surgically attached to that chair all day," I said, grabbing my bag.
Without looking up, he replied, "It's me and the bugs now. We've bonded."
"Don't forget to blink," I said, smirking. "I'm off to check out some gyms. I'll let you know if I end up finding one to register with."
"You better," he said. "And bring back snacks."
I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, the city buzzing the way it always does—half frantic, half magnetic. The gym on 3rd Avenue was my first stop. I'd passed it a few times before and remembered it looking fancy, but stepping inside was something else entirely.
The lobby alone looked like a spa. Sleek floors, huge glass panels, sculpted people in activewear that probably cost more than my rent.
Okay… maybe this is above my budget.
Still, curiosity dragged me deeper inside.
There were rows of chrome machines, private yoga rooms with mood lighting, even a smoothie bar that smelled like coconut protein powder and money. Honestly? If you were a gym rat, this was the promised land.
But not my promised land.
I thanked the receptionist, took a brochure I'd probably never read, and made my way back outside.
The walk to the second gym was as far as I remembered. A little farther downtown, more low-key and tucked beside a bagel shop and a laundromat. No sparkling signage, no intimidating fitness influencers. Just a plain glass door and a slightly peeling poster about discounted memberships.
Inside, it looked like they were mid-renovation—some exposed wires in the ceiling, a half-painted wall near the weights section. Still, the equipment was solid and the vibe more relaxed.
"Hey, checking us out?" a deep voice called out.
I turned to see a guy walking toward me—tall, broad-shouldered, and ridiculously fit. His skin gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, muscles flexing under a snug tank top that left very little to the imagination. He looked like he lived in the gym and had probably bench-pressed a small car before breakfast.
He gave me a friendly smile, a clipboard tucked under one arm. "Need help finding something?"
"Just browsing," I replied, trying not to sound as winded as I suddenly felt. "Looking for something that doesn't cost as much as my rent."
He chuckled. "Fair. We're still fixing a few things up, but the gear's top notch. Come on, I'll show you around."
He gave me the grand tour—weights, treadmills, lockers that didn't need a retina scan to open. It was simple, functional, and honestly? It felt more like me.
"I'll probably come back tomorrow," I said as we circled back to the entrance. "Looks like a good place to start."
"We'll be here," he said, handing me a flyer with his name—Matt—written in bold at the bottom.
By the time I got back home, it was just starting to get dark. My legs ached slightly, and my water bottle was empty, but I felt good—refreshed, like I'd done something right for myself.
I stepped inside and found Luke in the living room, now lounging horizontally on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him and two takeout boxes on the coffee table.
"Wow," I said, toeing off my sneakers. "You moved from the kitchen to the couch. You okay?"
"I evolved," he said dramatically. "I also ordered Chinese and queued up three movies. You're welcome."
I plopped down beside him, grabbing a box of noodles. "You're the best fake boyfriend I never had."
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, handing me chopsticks.
We didn't talk much after that—just passed the soy sauce, argued over movie choices, and let the comfort of easy company settle in around us like a warm blanket.
It was a good night.
Exactly the kind of night that makes the next day feel easier.