Chapter 4---Breakfast
Arielle's POV
I wake up to the sound of muffled humming and the faint scent of peppermint. The curtains are half-drawn, letting in stripes of morning light that cut across my bed. I blink a few times, the sleep still clinging stubbornly to my lashes, and turn my head.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I see a figure in the corner of my room.
“Christ, Meredith!” I say whilst placing a hand on my chest in an attempt to calm my racing heart.
Meredith is sitting cross-legged in the armchair, a makeshift ice pack pressed against her forehead, looking like a wounded soldier.
"What happened to you?" My voice is groggy, but the sight of her makes me sit up straighter.
She peeks at me from under the ice pack. "Oh, you know. Just an average dance night of balancing on six-inch heels like a circus act. I slipped."
"You slipped?" I frown. "Like… on purpose or by accident?"
"Trust me," she says dryly, "if I were going to dramatically faint for attention, I’d have done it in front of someone worth impressing."
I try not to laugh but fail. "So… what actually happened?"
"Jack’s friend—you know, the one with the square jaw and personality of a grumpy old man—thought it would be hilarious to spin me during some fast dance. My shoe decided to revolt. My head met the floor. End of story." She gives a theatrical sigh and presses the ice pack harder which must have hurt a lot cause she lets out a sharp groan.
I wince. "Does it hurt?"
"It’s fine. Just my pride is a little bruised. And my skull. But mostly my pride."
We fall quiet for a moment.
“Can't believe I didn't see it last night when I tucked you into bed. I automatically assumed you'd been drunk.” I say.
“I wish.” She sighs. Then her face lights up and I just know what's coming.
“Now—” she sits up suddenly, “—spill. You kept muttering ‘his name’ in your sleep last night. Did something happen?”
I freeze. “Define ‘happen.’”
Her grin is shark-like. “Oh my God. You’re blushing. You’re actually blushing.” She immediately joins me on the bed. “Tell me you didn’t—”
“I didn’t,” I say quickly, pulling the blanket over my head to hide my burning cheeks.
“You so did.”
“I didn’t!”
“You mentally did.”
I peek out from under the blanket. “That’s not even a thing.”
“Oh, it’s a thing alright,” Meredith says, wagging a finger. “And judging by that deer-in-headlights look, it was very much a thing.”
I groan, throw a pillow at her, and make my escape to the bathroom before she can dig any deeper.
••••••••
My escape failed as Meredith followed me into the bathroom and while we got ready, she made me tell her about last night with Zane.
As we make our way downstairs, I ask. "You’re staying for breakfast, right?"
"Wouldn’t miss it. Free food and family drama? I’m all in."
By the time we wander down to the dining room, the smell of fresh coffee and buttery croissants fills the air. The long oak table is already set, sunlight pooling across it like warm honey.
My mother is pouring juice into glasses. Jack is flipping through his phone at the far end, and Zane is… there. Sitting at the head of the table like he owns the air we breathe.
He for sure owns mine.
He doesn’t look at me. Not even once.
I slide into the seat next to Meredith, opposite Jack. My eyes are magnets, pulled toward him again and again.
Meredith greets my parents while I study Zane for a moment……or two.
His profile is sharp, unreadable. He’s listening to something my mother is saying, one hand resting loosely on his coffee cup. And I don't think I've ever been more jealous of a cup in my entire life.
Everyone's served and we all dig in.
I try my hardest to not look at Zane-- I keep failing.
But halfway through the meal, that prickling sensation crawls up my neck, like being watched. I glance up, expecting Zane. But it’s Jack. He’s looking straight at me, then flicking his gaze toward Zane, then back to me, like he’s putting together a puzzle he’s not sure he likes.
I shove a piece of melon into my mouth just to avoid having to react.
"So, Jack," my father says, breaking the mild tension. "How’s work been?"
I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.
Jack brightens a little. "Busy. We just landed that overseas client—big one. I might have to fly out next week to seal the deal."
Dad and Zane both nod at that. They all work together and Zane's the boss.
"That’s fantastic," my mother says. "And how’s Ellie? We haven’t seen her in ages."
Jack’s ears turn slightly pink. "She’s good. She’s been… busy."
Meredith snorts into her coffee. "Translation: they fought, she’s mad at him, and now she’s ghosting him."
Jack shoots her a glare.
Mom laughs softly. "Well, I hope you two patch things up soon. She’s lovely."
The conversation shifts until my mother turns her attention to Meredith. "And how’s your brother? We haven’t heard from him in a while, either."
Meredith stiffens almost immediately. "He’s fine."
"Still working up north?"
"Yep." Meredith’s smile is polite, but her tone has that finality that says please stop asking.
But knowing my mom, she'll just keep going so I jump in and save the day. “Mom, please can I get more juice?”
“Oh sure.”
She immediately goes to the kitchen to get some and by the time she returns, she'd have forgotten what she had initially been talking about.
Meredith squeezes my hand where it lies under the table in a silent “thank you.” I reciprocate the gesture.
I know how uncomfortable talking about her brother and her family is for her.
Through it all, Zane says absolutely nothing. He just listens and smiles a little here and there.
But then, without warning, he glances at me. Just once. Just long enough for my pulse to stutter. Then his eyes are gone again, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.
We’re halfway through refills of coffee when my mother, in her infinite ability to lob conversational grenades without warning, turns her attention fully to Zane.
"So, Zane…" She smiles warmly. "You’ve been avoiding my question all morning."
His brows lift slightly. "Which one?" I never even knew how much I missed his voice until he said those two words that have me clenching my thighs.
"You know which one." She leans forward a little. "Your love life, Z. Are you seeing anyone?"
The table quiets.
My pulse spikes.
The air around me feels suddenly heavy. My fork stills halfway to my mouth. I keep my eyes on my plate, but every nerve in my body strains to hear his answer.
He glances up, and for the briefest moment, his eyes find mine again before moving on.
I shouldn't care what his answer would be but I can't breathe.