Loose End

ERIC:

I spent long minutes preparing the kind of meal that could make the air feel thick with love.

A pair of juicy, pan-seared steaks rested beside mounds of velvety mashed potatoes laced with truffle oil, their aroma melting into the scent of roasted garlic and butter. Sauted asparagus glistened with olive oil and a sprinkle of Parmesan, while towers of sliced mozzarella and ripe tomatoes sat like little artworks, drizzled with dark balsamic glaze. Two glasses of red wine, half full, still breathing, completed the homely yet luxurious feast.

Turning from the table, I jolted… “Dear me,” I gasped, regaining my breath.

Leonard stood silently behind me. I hadn’t noticed his presence until then. God knows how long he’d been there, watching me arrange dish after dish.

“Perfect timing.” I motioned to a chair.

He ignored it and chose a different seat.

Great.

He sat still, either stunned by the spread or waiting for me to serve him. I did so gladly, spooning small portions onto a plate for myself too. With a spoon in hand and the plate before him, he just stared… at the food, at nothing. I recognised that look. He was debating if this was a trap: poisoned food or a romantic hex.

“Go on,” I said, smiling as our eyes met. “It is delicious. I promise.”

He took a spoonful, chewed, then paused.

“How is it?” I asked, already wearing a proud grin.

He didn’t need to answer. That pause was the silence of someone pleasantly betrayed by their taste buds. Of course, it was good. I spent all my savings at an English culinary institution.

“Want some more?” I offered before he could answer.

Leonard kept chewing, then gave the smallest nod, as if not to admit I’d won. I laughed. But served him to his fill.

Dinner went great.

Later, Leonard retired to a couch. I did the dishes, took a cold shower, and came back for dessert… a cup of ice cream I had stashed earlier in the refrigerator. He was still glued to his tablet.

I sat across from him, ice cream in hand, stealing a glance every few seconds. His focus was captivating—lashes blinking rhythmically, forehead creased slightly, fingers tapping in sync with his thoughts. Time felt slower around him.

I know saying Leonard is handsome would sound so boring from repetition, but mehn, that man makes me throb.

My mind was running through a thousand things he could do to me if…

Until he caught me staring.

I quickly leaned back and shovelled a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice tinged with surprise and something else I couldn’t place.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pretending to focus on my ice cream.

“You just ate an ice cream, Erica,” he said more firmly, lowering the tablet.

I glanced at the cup, then at him, still confused.

“Oh,” I smiled, thinking I’d figured out the issue. “I’ve got a few more cups in the fridge. Want one?”

“What?”

His reaction stunned me. That flicker of surprise turned to shock. Before I could lift another spoonful, he lunged forward, snatched both the cup and spoon from me, splashing cream all over me.

“What the hell, Leonard?!”

He froze.

I wasn’t having it.

“Why did you do that? Is eating ice cream against your house rules?!”

He didn’t move.

“You could’ve just said so instead of making a mess!”

Then, his voice came softly. “Are you…okay?”

“I should be asking you that. Are you okay, Leonard?”

“Erica,” he said even gentler, “do you really feel okay?”

“No. I don’t! I am mad. You just ruined my dessert!”

I stormed off to the fridge, grabbed another cup, and stomped upstairs.

“You can finish that one!’ I shouted behind me.

Fvcking Leonard.

Up in my room, I devoured the ice cream like a punishment—though I wasn’t sure who I was punishing. When the fury overflowed, I called Lucas.

“Maybe that’s just his way of being overbearing,” Lucas said.

“What’s so wrong about eating ice cream in his house?”

“There might be a bad story behind it.”

“Well, I’m going to flood this house with every dâmn flavour I can find.”

I lay awake imagining his living room stacked with melting cups of vengeance. Overbearing Leonard? He’d learn I could outdo him.

“Eric!” Erica’s voice called from the hallway the next morning.

Shît! I’d fallen asleep on last night’s rage.

“Eric!”

I opened the door. She was pale and panting.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Did you…” she struggled.

Her eyes fell on my bed. On the empty cup of ice cream that had slept beside me.

“Did you have that?” she asked, panic rising. “Can you eat an ice cream?”

Right. Not in Leonard’s presence.

“You may want to sit,” I said.

“I can’t eat ice cream,” she blurted, heart racing.

“I don’t understand.”

“I am allergic to milk. I can’t eat cream.”

The memory of last night rewound in slow horror.

“Shît!”

“Did Mr. Hays see that?” she asked. “And the mess in the living room, who made that?”

Fvcking Eric.

“Leonard…” I mumbled, “he tried to stop me. I thought he was being controlling.”

“This is not good.”

No, it isn’t. Leonard is too observant. Calculative. Allergies leave no tighter ends—only clues.

We are screwed!

“What should we do?” I asked.

“This is my fault.”

It was. Erica had been leaving out too much information. No pictures to help me identify people, now this—an allergy she forgot to mention?

What exactly is her plan? To run back to Nathan?

This is why I can’t stand women in charge. So many loose ends. But this isn’t the time to shame her.

“I think we should call Lucas,” I suggested.

Because honestly? I’m as lost as she is. My brain doesn’t work under pressure, and now, I was drowning in it. Only Lucas could think on our behalf.

My call to Lucas was still ringing when a knock sounded on the door.

“Erica!” Leonard called.

My heart plummeted. Erica’s spine locked. And we turned in the same breath…staring at the door that was about to burst open from Leonard’s knock.