The shaking starts again.
“Lev, take another deep breath with me,” I say quickly. “In. Out. Good. That’s so good.”
As he breathes, I make eye contact. “You know what always made me feel better on a rough morning? Chocolate chip pancakes!”
He looks at me skeptically. “C-chocolate?” he hiccups.
“Oh, big time. I’m not the greatest cook but I do make the best chocolate chip pancakes in the city, maybe even in the whole entire world. You wanna try them?”
He considers it for a moment and then he nods slowly. Victory! I’m clapping myself on the back for this one.
I get to my feet and offer him my hand. He takes it, and by “takes it,” I mean he slips one finger onto my palm like a shy child. I turn around to make sure he’s okay—and freeze.
Uri is standing at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the two of us with a brooding gaze. Lev stiffens and his eyes flicker to the broken glass lying in a heap of shards a few feet away.
I ignore that. “Lev and I were just about to make pancakes. Want some?”
Uri nods coolly. “Sure.”
Lev and Uri sit down beside each other and watch me make my not-so-famous chocolate chip pancakes. I keep up a patter of light banter through the pancake-making process. Partly because I want Lev to feel at ease, but also because I’m very conscious that Uri’s eyes are following me religiously.
By the time I dole out the sweet-smelling pancakes onto three plates, Lev is actually smiling. “I want more.”
Uri chuckles. “You haven’t even tried one yet.”
“I’ll like them,” Lev insists.
It’s enough to make me tear up. I watch as Lev dives into the pancakes, smearing his mouth with chocolate after only a couple of bites. It’s the only review I need. Lev gobbles down the three thick pancakes I’ve served him and then holds out his plate for more, Oliver Twist style.
He’s chowing down on his second helping when I turn to Uri, who makes no secret of the fact that he’s staring at me thoughtfully.
“Did you like them?” I ask shyly.
“Best pancakes in the entire world,” he replies deadpan.
I smile self-consciously, determined not to let things backslide into silence. His gaze is so much harder to deal with in the silence. “Thanks. I workshopped the recipe quite a bit. The secret is—”
“I want to take you out again.”
My body erupts with tingles. “Out?” I repeat stupidly.
He nods as Lev looks up at his brother and chirps, “I want to come, too.”
Uri’s head swivels in Lev’s direction in shock. “You do?”
Lev nods, though a little uncertainly this time. His gaze veers slowly to me. “Only if Alyssa is coming, though.”
Uri’s eyes are wide. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that Lev asking to go out is not a common occurrence. But judging from the little furrow in Uri’s brow, I’d also guess that he is more reluctant than excited about that small inch of progress.
“If you really want to, you can come with us,” Uri decides mildly. “But only for an hour or so. You have physical therapy today and you can’t miss it.”
Lev nods and starts in on his last pancake. Uri’s eyes find mine and there it is again—that heated eye contact. That pregnant silence.
I break both by grabbing Uri’s empty plate. “I’ll just get these out of the way.”
I’m standing at the sink, washing his plate by hand when I feel him at my back. He slides in right behind me without actually touching me. His lips are at my ear, his breath gently stroking my neck.
“Thank you.”
Then, without another word, he leaves.
35
ALYSSA
First things first—I need to get changed.
But the moment I enter the walk-in closet, I stop short. Something’s not right. Or depending on your perspective, something is very right. The half-empty racks, shelves, and open cupboards are no longer half-empty. There’s a wealth of new clothes staring back at me, blinding me with their shiny new fabric and their shiny new labels.
I do a slow lap. Dresses from Valentino. Pants from Prada. Bags from Gucci. Heels from Louboutin. My head is spinning.
Some of the fabrics feel too luxurious to touch, let alone wear.
After combing through the entire wardrobe, I find my old clothes folded away in a small corner of the walk-in. Something about knowing that I could always fall back on what I know makes me feel more willing to branch out into this strange new world of French and Italian luxury.