It started with small things. A dropped cookbook, a glance that lingered too long, a casual laugh that carried farther than usual. Grayson bent instinctively to pick up the book, their hands brushing. Heat shot through his arm, but he forced himself to pull away. Just an accident, he told himself, though his pulse argued otherwise.
He noticed her more and more the curve of her smile, the confidence in her posture, the way she moved freely around the apartment. Each observation left him restless, frustrated, and yearning for more than he could allow.
Then came Julian's name mentioned casually during a conversation, a friend checking in. A pang of jealousy struck him like a hot blade. I don't care. She's free. I don't… I can't…
And yet, the truth gnawed at him. He wanted her. He had always wanted her. But admitting it, even to himself, was a war he refused to fight. He clenched his fists, struggled to steady his breathing, told himself again and again: She's not mine. I can wait. I'll ignore it.