Charlotte didn't immediately try on the dress Théo had made.
She tried to focus.
Tried to return her full attention to the risotto, to the slicing, the seasoning—anything but the man who had just walked out.
But damn it.
Alexander's face wouldn't leave her mind.
She knew that man too well. Knew the tension in his shoulders, the way his mouth tightened just a little too much when he was upset but trying to hide it.
And today?
He hadn't been his usual smug, sharp-edged self.
He had been... off. And she was trying so hard to ignore it.
Trying—and failing.
Charlotte stubbornly finished the rice, plated it, tasted it.
Too salty.
She sighed, yanked off her apron, and tossed it onto the counter.
"Taking five," she muttered. "Going out for some air."
Marco watched her storm out, chuckling under his breath as he started wiping down the counters.
He leaned closer to Théo and said, low enough that only the two of them could hear,
