kiss you like a whiskey fire;

He rubbed his hands over her arms, just a brief up-down-up-down, soaking in the warmth and her he could get before he had to go back to the stove. "I mean I won't, but now it's the low-hanging fruit because I pointed it out." He smiled. "Take your shoes off, sip on your whiskey, and tell me about your day. Unless you want a shower or something before you eat."

Tate made her feel calm, however. He smoothed the chaos that made her mind race and helped her unclench her jaw during her worst moments. "I hate missing my moments," she lamented, then reached up to peck him one more time. "I'll get my shoes off. I think if I shower right now, I might actually fall asleep ahead of schedule."

While the bakery/café wasn't her end-all-be-all career-wise, Harper always figured she'd try to make the most of it. One of the ways was bringing new ideas, sparking conversation, trying to figure out a way to continue to bring in business. "Thanks for having me over~ I figured if there was anyone in Half Moon Bay outside the café to bounce ideas off of, it would be you." She couldn't help but gawk at the entrance of Evie's place, trying to remember the last time she'd been here. Always busy, always meeting people at places or on their patios or backyards. "I even brought some pastries as a thank you."

"You've come to the right place," she assured and shifted her body aside to let her friend into the house. "And if you're bringing pastries, you've always come to the right place."

"Do you ever actually take a lunch break?" He asked. "Because you survived for a long time without be here to cook for you, but sometimes I'm not sure how." He leaned in and stole another kiss, but this one was his lips and her cheek.

"Make all the jokes you want," he teased. "But you missed your opportunity to make bangers sound dirty. Or mash."

Of course there was a bangers and mash joke in there, but fatigue and hunger clouded her mind.

"I don't think you'd ever deny me the opportunity to make a sex joke...literally ever," she pointed out. "But forgive me while I learn how to manage my time properly so I can actually give you the attention you need. Nay, deserve."

"Good, because I think opening up to him is a mistake," he replied. "Just like you think Lale and I shouldn't have another baby." He pressed his lips together, his mouth keeping pace with his thoughts because he didn't really know what to do about any of it.

"Maybe this is the end of the road, Ev. Our choices are dictating we should just... stop trying to rely on each other. Professional relationship only. I guess, if I'm honest, I've known this moment was coming since your grandmother's funeral." Which was, of course, a sloppy shorthand to reference the night they'd slept together. His eyes lingered on her for a long beat. "Maybe I should get back to Lale and Berkan. And you should get back to Tate. And we should be done."

"I don't have to defend him to you except to tell you that he's actively put in the work to become a better person," she informed him. As much as whether or not he reproduced wasn't up to her.

Suddenly, her town felt a little more suffocating than she'd like.

Her spine stiffened when he continued and her hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans. "Maybe we should. But do me one last favor and never fucking bring up the funeral again. Don't fucking do that. Have at least some tiny scrap of respect for me." The words came out as a harsh hiss in comparison to the heated, hushed tones from before. "Just do whatever you want, Ben. I don't really care anymore."

Lies.

Not with Lale cutting in to soften the tension, to provide a warmer explanation. As always, to be the foil he needed before he did something stupid. He wasn't positive that was her intent, until her arm made its way around him and she squeezed briefly. It was a short-hand of support and the message was pretty clear. The problem was just he didn't want to talk about it, could never quite explain, and found it easier to just sit in his own lock-jawed misery than to seek help. As Lale started suggesting dates, which honestly he'd rather chew glass than attend, and offered drinks, his eyes fluttered closed. "I'm okay, thanks," he said, trying to do it with a gentler tone than one he felt on the inside.

Because even as he addressed his wife, Evie was talking about blueprints they didn't have and asking about people they hadn't employed. His frustration intensified under the weight of things still needing to be done.

"Not yet." It was something else he'd been thinking he'd ask her, but now, petulantly, he didn't want to. The grown up in him, who was way too far buried at this point, came up with the names and forced them out. "Have you ever worked with Matt Rowberry or Taylor Juarez? Those are the two who are taking residential projects right now."

"Okay. More for us." Lale replied quietly and effortlessly despite the discomfort. She left Ben's side to pour herself an iced tea, leaving a glass for Evie full with a lemon wedge to take should she decide. She leaned against the breakfast nook, her eyes volleying between them, her expression neutral as she sipped her tea. Her mind was racing with scenarios and explanations. She wanted to ask them both out right what had happened- but Lale knew better than to meet this iciness with brut force and instead made plans of her own. Proximity had a way of making things come out. "I'm trusting Ben with contractors. I'll be good to tell them what to do, but getting blue prints shouldn't be too hard."

"We can all talk about it over dinner." Lale warmed, a softened expression tossed her husbands way. "Of course there is more we can discuss it's been so long." Lale smoothed, "Just let me know your schedule and I can make reservations for four?" Lale suggested flipping up the calendar she kept on the kitchen wall to check for dates.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, this time addressing Lale. "I try to not do anything until I've gotten all my ducks in a row, that unfortunately includes basic bodily needs like hydration. I did eat before I came."

Blueprints would tell them everything they needed to know before any full renovations came about. It often told the story of the hardware within. Fortunately, Evie had known how to read blueprints since she was seven years old and crawled into her grandfather's lap to see what he was doing.

"Matt Rowberry's a drunk and Taylor Juarez is a flake," she responded. They'd be better off hiring some kid straight off his finals than hiring either of them. "They say leaving something in the wall is a rite of passage, but if you hire either of them, chances of a plastic bottle ending up in your wiring's pretty high."

“Imma just be honest with you Evie.” Javi called out from where he was sitting on the little sea wall at the very end of the beach. He had a hoodie on because despite the sunshine, the wind off the ocean was fucking freezing. Javier shoved both his hands into his pocket and shook his head with a grin. “That looks like a terrible fucking idea. And if I’m telling you that it looks dumb, you should probably listen.” He said with a half laugh. He was the king of doing dumb shit and he knew better than most that it was a lot easier to get yourself into trouble than it was to get yourself out. “Cause see, if I have to get down from here and come rescue your ass because you wouldn’t listen to my sage wisdom? I’m gonna be very inconvenienced and then you’re gonna owe me a favor and I promise you don’t want that.”

"You keep forgetting something, Javi. The kid is good," she informed him and took a seat the top. Her legs dangled down, thankfully clad in jeans, lest her legs be scratched up by the rock.

Brother. Evie had another brother whose existence she hadn't known. While she wasn't so naïve as to think she was the only child her biological father had, the reality still jarred her.

Her hands slid along the thighs of her pants and she forced herself to listen to it with soft golden-brown eyes. While Evie loathed her father and knew the feeling was mutual, it didn't mean she wanted life-altering things to happen to him. She wished a perpetual squeak in his shoe, not his entire life taken away from him like this.

Cancer.

Her father was dying. Their father was dying.

"Are you alright?" was the first thing she could think to say. Obviously, the man before her had an actual relationship with him. Her skin prickled, not unlike having ice water thrown at her.

There was likely a bare minimum estate keeping her from wanting a bigger piece of the pie. The joke was on David, however; Evie wanted nothing to do with him after being rejected by yet another person in her life.

"I'm sure she will," he bit off, snapping those words away from the hundreds he was dying to say. Some of them, most of them, were questions like are you fucking serious? He tried, but couldn't stop the momentum of uncharitable thoughts. "But then again, maybe not. She's always been a decent judge of character."

Had Tate ripped her heart out? Yes. Was he trying to move forward and putting in the work? Also yes.

Evie wasn't the altogether forgiving type. She was a recent convert of her former mindset of the strong belief people never truly changed. Tate was proof they could.

"I don't expect you to be happy for me, Ben. I really don't. I'm a big girl."