Joanne watched as Jonathan struggled with the toast. She had only offered it out of courtesy—he could've just left it on the plate if he didn't want it. She wouldn't have minded.
"I'd have prepared something better if I knew you were coming," she said, glancing at him. It wasn't just small talk. She genuinely didn't know why he was there.
Jonathan wiped his mouth with a napkin, his expression brightening. "Ah, yes!" He reached for the brown paper bag he'd brought and slid it across the table. "I wanted to return these personally."
Joanne peeked inside. Her Tupperware. The ones she had sent with food for Charlotte.
A fond smile tugged at her lips. "You didn't have to… Did she like it?"
That child. Always so independent. In an era where even toddlers carried iPads, Charlotte didn't own so much as a basic phone. Instead, she rode her bike all over town like she had all the time in the world. Considering how wealthy her father was, she was an anomaly among her peers.
But Joanne loved that little firecracker to pieces.
"She loved it," Jonathan said, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his daughter. But then, just as quickly, something shifted. His expression turned serious, his lips pressing together. "I can't thank you enough for being there when she needed it."
Joanne blushed.
It wasn't that she was embarrassed—she just wasn't used to someone thanking her like this. "Oh, please," she waved him off, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It was nothing."
Jonathan tilted his head, studying her.
She didn't know why, but this time felt different.
Talking to him had never been hard before. Yet now, something about his presence—his neater appearance, his warmer tone—made her feel…
Expectant.
Maybe it was because of JD's teasing that day. Maybe she had started to wonder.
Whatever it was, Jonathan brightened as soon as he started talking about work. And just like that, the awkwardness melted away. Their conversation found its rhythm.
Joanne could keep up with him. Sure, they were in different industries, but they both produced things. There was a shared understanding between them, an ease that made her feel comfortable.
Before she knew it, they had been talking for over an hour. Even when her phone chimed, she didn't feel the usual anxiety to check it. At some point, she brought up the question she had been meaning to ask.
"Why aren't you using my logistics company for your steel shipments?" Her tone was light, but she wasn't joking.
Jonathan smirked. She already knew the answer. His family had been using the same transport company for years—he wasn't about to change that now.
Still, she had to make her pitch, didn't she?
"Well…" Jonathan pushed back his chair, standing. "I had a great time chatting with you." Then, with a smile she had never seen on him before, he added, "I hope to enjoy your company more. Let's have dinner sometime soon."
Joanne blinked.
Dinner?
She nodded automatically. "Okay."
Jonathan left, and for a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the door.
She was sure he wanted to talk about logistics. She was excited. Her company was going to expand!
With a small smile, Joanne gathered the dishes and wiped down the table.
She had barely stepped out of the kitchen when she froze seeing a figure standing in the dining room.
Her breath hitched.
"Liam…"
The name left her lips in a whisper, filled with surprise—and something else she didn't want to name.
It felt strange seeing him here. Familiar, yet distant, like a memory from another life. Back then, this had been normal. Him visiting... Staying over... Eating the food she cooked.
Everything is over now.
"Want some lemonade?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
Liam said nothing. He just stood there, watching her, lost in thought.
Was he remembering it too? The way things used to be?
Before she could dwell on it, she turned on her heel and went back into the kitchen.
Nostalgia was dangerous.
And as much as a part of her wanted to linger in it, he couldn't stay. People would talk. His wife would hear.
And God, Liam's wife already hated her. Joanne was so tired of being hated.
She returned with a glass of lemonade and held it out to him.
Liam took it, his fingers brushing against hers. He brought the glass to his lips and drank, slowly, reverently.
"So good," he murmured, exhaling like he was savoring something rare.
His other hand gripped the edge of the table. Joanne's gaze flickered to his forearm, where his veins stood out under taut skin.
She knew how much he loved her lemonade. Her cooking.
Her.
Joanne wet her lips and took a step toward the door, needing space. Light. Distance.
She couldn't let herself forget.
They couldn't go back.
Even if they wanted to.
Liam's voice pulled her back. "The paying guest—he's trustworthy, right?"
She stilled.
He still cared.
That was Liam—always watching out for her. Always worrying about her.
Joanne swallowed the knot in her throat and forced her voice into something light. "He's fine. He also works for my company, so…"
Liam leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He didn't look convinced.
He also wasn't leaving.
But he knew.
He could feel that she was asking him to.
Still, he lingered.
"Is Sam causing you trouble again?" Liam asked.
Joanne paused at the doorway. "You know Sam. He's… Sam. He only cares about money."
Liam scoffed. "You don't have to put up with him just because he's your cousin, Jo." His voice hardened.
Joanne's hand tightened on the doorknob. "Well, I did kill his brother."
A thick silence settled between them.
"But, Jo—"
Liam moved, stepping toward her. His arm reached out, but before he could touch her, Joanne wrenched the door open and stepped outside.
She needed air.
Light.
Less privacy.
Because otherwise…
She wasn't sure she'd have the strength to pull away. And God help her, she hated that she didn't care, that she'd let herself lean on a married man, just for a little bit of comfort.
Liam stopped at the threshold. He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dimming, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Apparently, he couldn't even talk to her anymore.
He let out a sharp scoff. But then, he sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. Softened.
"I saw Brian Cooper at the pub," he said at last. "Cussing you out for firing him. Then he found Sam, and the two were talking for a while."
Joanne's heart skipped.
"You need to be careful."
She turned to look at him. But he was already stepping down from the porch.
"The car's fixed," he added.
Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he waved to Patrick and the farmhands.
Smiled.
Acted like nothing had happened.
And then, he was gone.
Joanne stood there for a long time, staring after his car. Then she turned, stepped inside, and shut the door behind her.
Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
Then another.