Mia's POV
The hospital lobby was busy, the scent of antiseptic clinging to the air like a second skin. I walked through Saint Haven Medical Center, clipboard in hand, but my mind wasn't on charts or patient rounds.
It was on last night. On him.
I tried to push it aside. Ryan hadn't done anything. He hadn't touched me. But something unspoken had passed between us—a silent moment heavy with words we weren't ready to say.
"You're distracted," Paula said as she matched my pace. She was back in her white coat, hair tied up in a neat bun, lips still curved into a subtle post-kiss smirk.
I raised a brow. "So are you."
"Touché." She bumped her shoulder against mine, and we both laughed quietly. "Ezra messaged me this morning."
"Oh?" I tried to sound casual, but Paula's grin widened.
"Said I left before he could ask me to dinner."
"Are you going to say yes?"
She shrugged. "Depends. Will Ryan throw a fit if his cousin starts dating his wife's best friend?"
I nearly choked. "It's not like that."
"It's starting to look like that," Paula said, giving me a long look. "You're falling, Mia. Whether you admit it or not."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
---
Ryan's POV
I leaned back in my office chair, gaze fixed on the skyline through floor-to-ceiling glass. The penthouse felt too quiet this morning. No Eric. No Mia's soft footsteps in the kitchen. Just silence.
I didn't like it.
"Ezra," I said without looking up as my cousin walked in, holding his phone.
"You okay?"
"I'm working," I replied.
"Right. And staring at nothing counts as a business strategy now?"
I shot him a look, but he smirked and sat across from me.
"I saw how you looked at her last night," Ezra said. "And I saw how she looked back."
"It's not like that," I said coolly, repeating Mia's words without realizing it.
Ezra leaned forward. "Then why haven't you touched another woman since?"
I didn't answer.
He already knew.
---
Later That Night – Mia's POV
The penthouse lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the marble floors. I had changed into one of my soft house dresses, my hair in a messy bun, the scent of garlic and rosemary still clinging to my fingers from cooking.
Ryan walked in just as I was packing up leftovers.
"You cooked?" he asked.
"I always do," I replied quietly.
He moved to stand beside me, his silver eyes unreadable. "You didn't wear the dress I picked."
"No," I said, heart thudding. "I didn't."
He was quiet. Then, "You looked... beautiful."
I looked up, caught off guard.
His voice was low, hoarse almost. "Don't run next time."
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.