It was Saturday morning when Ava woke to the smell of brewed coffee and the low hum of jazz spilling from her living room.
She blinked, stretched, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. For a few seconds, she just listened. It was warm. Familiar.
Safe.
Julian.
She padded quietly out of the bedroom and found him standing by the window, coffee in one hand, glasses on, his phone sitting facedown on the counter.
"Good morning," she said.
He turned, smiling gently. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No," she said. "The music did. But it's okay."
He held up the second cup. "Still take it with oat milk?"
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything about you."
There it was again—that look in his eyes.
Not desperate.
Just patient.
Soft.
She took the cup, their fingers brushing briefly.
They sat together on the couch, legs stretched out in opposite directions, the city waking slowly beyond the windows. Ava sipped her drink and let her body relax into the cushions. Julian scrolled through the music, lowering the volume.
"I was thinking," he said, "we could get out of the apartment today."
"Oh?"
"Somewhere quiet. No Easton. No news. Just... space."
Ava tilted her head. "What kind of space?"
"My sister's place."
That caught her off guard.
"Which one?"
"Emily. She's hosting a small get-together. Nothing fancy. Just food, backyard, maybe a few awkward games if her husband pulls out the board games."
Ava blinked. "You've never invited me to something like that before."
Julian looked thoughtful. "I didn't want you to feel like a display piece. Like someone I had to show off."
"And now?"
"Now I want you to see more of my life. And maybe let me see more of yours."
Ava didn't respond right away.
The idea of being surrounded by warmth, laughter, normalcy—it felt distant. But inviting.
Like a life she used to want before everything got so heavy.
"Okay," she said. "I'll come."
Julian smiled, and it reached all the way to his eyes.
By early afternoon, they were on the road heading toward Brooklyn, the windows cracked open and sunlight spilling across the dashboard. Ava wore a simple dress and a long sweater, hair pinned up loosely. Julian looked relaxed behind the wheel, sleeves rolled, his voice softer than usual.
"I used to bring Emily here for weekends when we were kids," he said. "We'd grab bagels from the corner shop and sit on the stoop for hours."
Ava glanced at him. "You've never told me much about your family."
He shrugged. "We're close, but not in a loud way. Emily and I are tight. My parents moved to Florida a few years ago. They don't visit much."
"Why?"
"They say New York is too cold. I think they're just tired of pretending to understand the lives we chose."
Ava smiled faintly. "That sounds familiar."
Julian looked over at her. "You ever miss yours?"
Ava's smile faded, but she didn't look away. "All the time."
He didn't push after that.
Emily's brownstone had charm. Brick walls, potted plants, a bright red door, and kids' chalk drawings on the steps. The inside smelled like roasted chicken and cinnamon. A tall man with a beard greeted them at the door.
"You must be Ava," he said warmly. "I'm Rob, the unlucky guy who married Julian's sister."
Ava shook his hand, a little surprised by how normal it all felt.
Emily emerged from the kitchen, hair in a messy bun, apron streaked with flour, and a loud voice that filled the space with energy.
"You brought her," she said to Julian, arms already out for a hug.
Ava braced herself—but the hug was soft, genuine.
"I've heard so much about you," Emily said. "Don't worry, all good. Mostly."
Ava laughed.
And just like that, she belonged.
The afternoon drifted by easily. They ate outside under strings of white lights and a canvas canopy. Emily's kids ran through the yard chasing bubbles, Rob told stories about his first disastrous date with her, and Ava... laughed.
Really laughed.
Julian sat beside her on the bench, close but not touching, always watching her with quiet pride.
It was strange, this version of him. No pressure. No performance.
Just him.
At one point, Emily leaned over and whispered, "He's been waiting for you to come back."
Ava looked down at her plate.
"Has he told you that?"
"He doesn't have to. He's my brother. I know what he looks like when he's holding his breath."
After dessert, the group thinned. The kids went in for cartoons, Rob began collecting plates, and Emily disappeared to get coffee started.
Julian and Ava stayed outside, the breeze light, the air carrying a hint of coming fall.
"I'm glad you came," he said quietly.
"So am I."
"You looked happy today."
"I was," she said. "It's been a while."
He turned slightly, one hand resting on the table between them.
"I don't know where we're going from here," he said. "But if there's still room for me in your life... I'd like to earn my way back."
She looked at him, heart still.
No sudden rush of emotion.
Just warmth.
Trust.
A slow-burning something that didn't need a name yet.
"There is," she said. "But let's take it slow."
He nodded. "That's all I ever wanted."
She reached out, fingers brushing his lightly.
No big kiss.
No dramatic confession.
Just connection.
And sometimes, that's the most powerful kind of romance there is.