Precela's POV
Dinner was… warm. Familiar in a way that unsettled me.
Dean picked the quietest restaurant in town the one we used to go to after school so i could have bread sticks .— with soft lighting, jazz humming low in the background, and a tiny rooftop view.
He talked more than I expected. About work, about his house, about how weird it was to have Anthony around again. I listened, sipping wine, watching his hands move when he got passionate. Same hands that used to scribble lyrics in the margins of his textbooks, hands that he used to swing from the bleachers and sprained his ankle because I deared him to, I was joking
We laughed about high school — about Mr. Langley's history rants and the time Dean got detention for pulling the fire alarm to get out of a pop quiz. I brought up the prom he ditched me for her. He winced.
"Low blow," he said.
"Just accurate," I replied.
Still, he smiled. So did I.
The night drifted by slowly. Like neither of us really wanted to go. But eventually, he drove me home. We parked in front of my house, and the engine ticked as it cooled. For a moment, the silence felt charged — not awkward, just... unresolved. We sat there a little too long and made more small talk .
you know he looks like you ,your son i mean.
I saw him looking at you he probably fell in love with you at first sight Dean said laughing.
or my daughter
what do you man Dean retorted
they are dating. "You are joking "
no they are pretty serious or they were .
Well that explains alot his coming home late and wondering around the property. We laughed it off ,before I could make up a reason to get out of the car deans voice came .
"Precela," he said, voice low. "I regret not choosing you."
I didn't answer right away. I stared at my porch light instead, flickering like it couldn't decide whether to stay on.
"We both made our choices," I said finally. "You chose her. I chose to stay out of the way."
"You could've fought for me."
"You could've stayed," I shot back, more sharply than I meant. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to argue, but didn't.
Then, quietly, he leaned in.
I let him.
His lips were softer than I remembered, less urgent, more sure. It wasn't lust. It was memory. Longing. Old, careful love that had never really stopped breathing. He held me and i held onto his shirt and felt his muscles tensed i breathed out and rested my head against his . He pulled away and kissed my forehead
The porch light flicked fully on — and so did my senses. I pulled away.
"We're not kids anymore, Dean."
But it was too late. The damage was done. That kiss had made its way to my heart and stirred my soul .
Camila's POV
I had just wondered down the stairs. I was on the phone talking to Julia But something told me to check in on Mom. She wasn't home but I heard a car pulling in a little while ago
What I didn't expect was to see her kissing some man in a car outside our house like she was seventeen again.
Until I got closer and saw who it was.
Dean.
Anthony's dad.
I stared for a second too long, and when my mom stepped out of the car, she caught my expression. Her mouth parted slightly in surprise.
"Camila," she said, voice tentative.
I glanced back at Dean. He looked stunned, unsure, like he wasn't sure if I was going to scream or disappear. He told my mom bye and pulled out of our estate and drove off
"You said he was just some guy you worked with," I muttered.
"I didn't lie. We do work together." Her tone softened. "But yes, he's also… Anthony's father."
Something in my chest tightened. A lot of things clicked into place — the way Anthony talked about his dad, the awkward way he behaved at that meeting, how little he said afterward.
Was he even a good person. all I knew was mom had some explaining to do . Soooo I churped you and deran "Dean" she corrected .ohhh I said calmly we walked inside and sat she explained how they dated in high school and how they broke each other's hearts and called it growing up, she told me she had a early meeting tomorrow she she was going to bed but she asked me to stay home and wait for a delivery she had coming in tomorrow. I wanted more info but she did look tired so I let it go and agreed to her request.
Anthony's POV
The night had settled deep by the time I heard the crunch of gravel under tires. Porch light flickered overhead, catching the dust his car kicked up as it rolled to a stop. I didn't move from my chair. Just watched, arms crossed, shadows playing across the boards beneath me.
Dean stepped out, jacket slung over his shoulder like he hadn't been anywhere he shouldn't.
He saw me. Hesitated. Then walked up the steps, the air thick between us.
"You always sit out here this late?" he asked, voice low, like maybe he thought being quiet would make the guilt go away.
"Only when I know I'll see something interesting."
He sighed and leaned against the railing, looking off into the dark.
"Long night," he muttered.
"Yeah. For both of us."
Silence. The kind that says more than either of us wants to. Then I said it:
"Your little plaything—your secretary—saw you pull into Precela's driveway tonight."
His jaw tightened. Just for a second. Then he let out a soft chuckle, like that made it nothing.
"That doesn't mean anything."
I turned to him, eyes sharp. "You sure about that?"
He didn't answer at first. Just rubbed his face like the truth was something sticky on his hands.
"We used to be a thing. Me and Precela. Years ago."
Ohh thats unexpected
"I didn't think it mattered anymore," he said. "It's over. Was over a long time ago."
I studied him. "Did you love her?"
He didn't flinch this time. Just nodded, slow. "Yeah."
That stuck. It shouldn't have, but it did. "Did you love Mom?"
He exhaled, long and tired. "Yes. But... not the same way. I loved your mother like you love something you know you don't deserve. She was better than me. I knew that."
"Then why'd she leave?"
"Because I earned it," he said. "I loved the chase. The job. The climb. Everything but the people who waited at the bottom for me to come home."
I looked away, jaw tight. There was nothing to say to that.
Dean shifted, then glanced sideways at me. "Didn't know you and Camila were a thing."
I blinked. "We're not a thing."
"Could've fooled me."
Silence again. Then he asked, almost too casually, "You love her?"
That caught me. Right in the chest. I didn't answer. Couldn't.
He just nodded like that was the answer.
"You'll have to choose one day," he said. "Her or the job. Just… try not to screw it up the way I did."
He pushed off the railing and went inside, the screen door creaking in his wake.
And I sat there, alone with the question he'd left behind, echoing louder than the quiet ever could.