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2026-03-05 16:55:30
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Project Heartbreak 63
“Flattery might get you everywhere, but it won’t make this pasta cook itself,” I said, laughing as I gave him a final squeeze and then wriggled out of his grasp. “Now move. I can’t mess up the only impressive thing I’m doing tonight.”He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Fine.” He released me with exaggerated slowness, his hands sliding from my waist as if he were being forcibly peeled away.I turned and gave him a little push towards the other side of the counter. “Make yourself useful. Open the wine.”“Yes, sir.” He gave a lazy, two-fingered salute and fetched the corkscrew from the drawer I pointed to. His movements were efficient. There was a soft pop, and he poured a small amount into a water glass I’d set out, swirling it with a surprising degree of focus before tasting it. He nodded. “It’ll do.”I arched a brow. “Since when are you a sommelier?”“Since my brand manager told me I needed a ‘sophisticated hobby’. Took a few classes. It’s… calming.” He filled two proper wine glasses,
Project Heartbreak 62
Pasta was safe. But maybe too boring? A stir-fry? Could I do a stir-fry that didn’t taste like soggy soy sauce? I settled on a compromise: a simple aglio e olio pasta, and a big, colorful salad with a lemon vinaigrette. It was hard to mess up. I typed garlic, lemons, fresh parsley, good olive oil, and a nice block of parmesan to the list. For the salad: mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, a cucumber, a red onion, and bread. Good, crusty bread to soak up the garlic oil.List complete, I looked around the apartment. It wasn’t filthy, but it was messy. Orhan’s sports socks were a sad lump under the table. My medical journals formed a leaning tower on the coffee table. The counters had a fine layer of dust. Jax had said not to clean too hard, but I couldn’t have him in a pigsty.I spent the next hour cleaning. I vacuumed, dusted, wiped down every surface, even the inside of the microwave. I rearranged the books on the shelf, fluffed the cushions, and hid Orhan’s socks in the laundry hamper wit
Project Heartbreak 61
I woke slowly, surfacing from a deep, dreamless sleep. The first thing I was aware of was the ache. It was a pleasant, full-body thrum that spoke of muscles used in ways they hadn’t been in a very, very long time. I stretched, wincing and smiling at the same time.Then I registered the clean feeling. I was wearing soft, clean clothes. And I felt… fresh and clean. The sticky, sweaty aftermath I’d expected was gone.He cleaned me up.The thought sent a wave of warmth through me that had nothing to do with the morning sun filtering through my blinds. But then, a colder thought followed. The space beside me in the bed was empty, the sheets cool.Did he leave?The panic was instant and irrational. I pushed the covers off and scrambled out of bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t even bother with slippers, padded barefoot out of my bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs.I stopped dead in the hallway.He was there.Standing in my small, sunlit kitchen, his back to me. He wa
Project Heartbreak 60
His hands were impossibly gentle as they touched me. They traced the lines of my face, slid into my hair, skimmed down my neck, over my shoulders, as if re-memorizing a map they’d never forgotten.His kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a possessive tenderness that made me moan into him. One of his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, his palm hot and rough against the skin of my back. I arched into the touch, my own hands scrambling to feel him. The solid muscles of his shoulders, the dip of his spine, the familiar planes of his body that were now broader, more defined.“Jax,” I breathed against his mouth, the name a plea and a prayer.“I know,” he murmured, understanding everything I couldn’t say. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a fiery path along my jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. He remembered. Of course he remembered. His tongue flicked against it, and a full-body shiver racked me, a mix of ticklish sensation and deep, aching pleasure.“
Project Heartbreak 59
“So,” he said, and this time his voice was quieter, the rich timbre of it filling the small space between us. “You asked me to come.”He didn’t move closer, just stood there, giving me room. His presence was overwhelming. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made the air feel thinner, more precious. I could see the faint scar above his left eyebrow, the subtle lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was real and he was here.“I did,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “I was waiting, you know,” he said, his words deliberate. “For your graduation. You still have your internship, but… I thought I’d come after that. When you were officially Dr. Reed. Give you space to do your thing.” A tiny, self-deprecating smirk touched his lips. “Kind of got the timeline shocked out of me tonight. Why? Why tonight, Elliot?”The question hung there, simple and immense. All the practiced excuses, the casual reasons I’d pre
Project Heartbreak 58
The energy at the table finally fizzled out like a spent firework. Erha had slumped forward, her head pillowed on her arms, softly snoring. Benji was listing sideways, his eyes glazed. Zavi, remarkably, was still upright, though his gestures had gotten slower and wider.“Right,” Zavi said, surveying the wreckage. “Erha and Benji are on my route. I’ll stuff them in a cab and make sure they don’t puke on the way. You good, Elliot?”“I’m good,” I said, though the world had taken on a pleasant, fuzzy tilt. “Just gonna walk it off.”“I will ensure he gets home,” Arman said, his voice a calm anchor in the boozy haze. He was, I noticed, completely sober. He’d nursed that one drink all night.“You don’t have to,” I protested, trying to stand up straight. “Your dorms are the other way. I’m fine.”“I insist,” Arman said, and there was a quiet firmness in his tone that brooked no argument. He helped me to my feet with a steadying hand under my elbow. “A walk will be good.”We waved off Zavi, who
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