Walker stood at the entrance of Lena's house, duffel bag in hand. The hallway was quiet, the scent of cinnamon lingering in the air from something she'd baked earlier that morning. He didn't want to go—not really—but he knew it was time. Staying in her house had blurred too many lines already, and they were both starting to feel the tension of it.
Lena emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So," she said, folding the towel over the oven handle. "You're really going back today?"
Walker nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah. The board's requesting more face time. I've got a lot to handle downtown, and it's probably best I settle back in at the penthouse."
She nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. "That makes sense."
It did. And it didn't. She'd gotten used to the sound of his footsteps upstairs, the way he grumbled in the morning before coffee, how he'd sneak into the kitchen just to snag warm pastries and smile like a guilty kid. His presence had become a part of her daily rhythm, and letting it go—even temporarily—felt like losing something she hadn't quite defined yet.
Walker reached for her hand. "This isn't me pulling away. You know that, right?"
"I know," she said softly.
"I just… I need to recalibrate. Balance a few things. And honestly, if I don't sleep in my own bed soon, my back may never forgive me."
She let out a quiet laugh, and he smiled, though his chest tightened as he looked at her. "You've been good to me, Lena. Better than I deserve."
"Don't start with the martyr act, Harper," she teased gently, but her voice caught at the end.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'm still coming by. I'm not disappearing."
"I know."
Their lips brushed, soft and lingering, but restrained. A kiss full of promises, both made and unspoken.
He pulled back with a reluctant sigh. "I'll call tonight."
"You better."
By the time Walker slid into his black SUV and the engine pulled away from the curb, Lena felt a hollowness settle into her chest. She knew this wasn't goodbye. But that didn't stop the ache.
At his penthouse, the sleek lines and polished glass felt colder than ever. Walker tossed his bag on the couch and glanced around. Everything was in its place. Nothing was out of order. And yet, it didn't feel like home.
He changed into sweats and walked to the massive window overlooking the city. Cars streamed below like tiny flickering lights, lives in motion. But all he could think about was the way Lena had smiled at him in her kitchen, flour dusted on her nose, and how no part of this luxurious space held the warmth she did.
Back at the bakery, Lena turned the sign to "Closed" and locked the door. As she wiped the counter down, her eyes caught the small magnet on the fridge—a joke magnet Walker had brought in from her own fridge as a tease. She hadn't taken it off.
She didn't want to.
Because part of her still hoped—maybe foolishly—that this break in routine wouldn't last long.