The break room was empty when I slipped inside, desperate for caffeine and a few minutes away from my desk.
I'd been staring at the same email for twenty minutes, unable to focus on anything except the memory of Xander's hand at my waist, the warmth in his eyes, the way he'd said my name like it meant something.
And always flirty Archie’s, his kindness…
I was reaching for a mug when the door opened behind me. "Oh, Daphne! I was hoping I'd run into you."
Bianca's voice was warm, friendly—the kind of tone you'd use with an old friend. But when I turned, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Mrs. Ashford." I managed a polite nod. "Can I help you with something?"
"Please, call me Bianca. We're going to be seeing so much of each other over the next few months—no need for formality."
She moved to the counter beside me, selecting a tea bag with deliberate care.
"I was just thinking how nice it is to have another woman around. This industry is so dominated by men, don't you think?"
"I suppose it is."
"Xander especially." She sighed, filling her cup with hot water. "He's always surrounded himself with male colleagues. I used to tease him about it back in university. He'd get so flustered."
A soft laugh, intimate and knowing.
"Of course, I was the exception. I practically had to train him on how to talk to women. How to order coffee properly, how to dress for meetings. He was so rough around the edges back then."
I kept my expression neutral, pouring my own coffee. "That must have been a long time ago."
"Some things feel like yesterday." Her eyes met mine over the rim of her cup. "We spent so many late nights at his apartment—he had nothing back then, you know. A tiny studio with a mattress on the floor and textbooks stacked everywhere. But he was so determined, so focused. I admired that about him."
The image landed exactly as she intended—Bianca in Xander's apartment, in his bed, knowing him in ways I never had.
"He's always been so intense," she continued, stirring her tea with a delicate spoon. "It can be overwhelming for people who don't understand him. I used to be the only one who could get him to relax. Who could break through those walls he builds."
Her eyes found mine with cool appraisal. The warm smile remained fixed in place, but the message beneath it was razor-sharp.
You don't belong here. You don't know him like I do. You never will.
"I should get back to work," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Enjoy your tea."
I left before she could respond, her soft laughter following me into the hallway.
An hour later, Xander caught me near the copy room.
"Daphne." His voice was softer than usual, uncertain in a way I'd never heard from him. "Do you have a moment? I thought we could talk—about Saturday, about the girls, about..." He trailed off, searching my face. "About us."
I kept my expression guarded, professional. Bianca's words echoed in my head—’late nights at his apartment, I used to be the only one who could get him to relax.’
"I'm quite busy today, Mr. Hale. Perhaps we could schedule something through the usual channels."
Xander frowned, clearly sensing the shift. "Mr. Hale? Daphne, what's going on? Yesterday, on the steps, I thought…"
"I really do need to get these copies finished." I stepped around him, not meeting his eyes. "The Belgium investors need the updated projections by two."
"Daphne, wait…"
"Excuse me." I walked away before he could press further, feeling his gaze burning into my back with every step.
At noon, Archie appeared at my desk like a rescue mission.
"You look like you need to escape," he said, jangling his car keys. "I know this incredible place a few blocks away—best risotto in the city. And they have this chocolate thing for dessert that might actually change your life."
I hesitated. "I shouldn't. There's so much work…"
"There's always work. Come on." He offered his hand with that easy, open smile. "Let me show you my favorite restaurant. I've been dying to take you there."
Hesitation again, but how could I say know to this face?
Twenty minutes later, we were seated at a corner table in a restaurant that screamed old money—white tablecloths, soft lighting, waiters who moved like ghosts.
Archie ordered for both of us with the confidence of someone who'd been coming here for years.
"So," he said, leaning forward with genuine interest, "tell me about Nina and Lisa. What are they like? What makes them laugh?"
The question caught me off guard.
Most people asked about the twins out of politeness, then quickly changed the subject. But Archie was watching me like my answer actually mattered.
"Nina's the bold one," I found myself saying. "She's never met a stranger. Last week she told the mailman his uniform would look better in purple, and he actually agreed with her."
I laughed at the memory. "Lisa's quieter, more thoughtful. She notices everything. She'll remember something you said three weeks ago and bring it up at the most random moment."
"What do they dream about? What do they want to be when they grow up?"
"Nina changes her mind daily. Last month it was astronaut, then veterinarian, then professional princess—she's very committed to that one." I smiled. "Lisa wants to be an artist. She draws constantly. Unicorns, mostly. Sometimes horses that she insists are unicorns with invisible horns."
Archie laughed, warm and genuine. "And their favorite snacks? This is crucial information."
"Goldfish crackers for Nina. The rainbow ones, specifically—she won't touch the regular kind. Lisa likes apple slices with peanut butter, but only if you cut the apples into stars. I have a special cookie cutter just for her."
"A star-shaped cookie cutter for apple slices." He shook his head, something soft in his expression. "You're an incredible mother, Daphne. Those girls are lucky to have you."
After lunch, Archie drove me back toward the office. The conversation flowed easily, comfortably—with him I could breathe, laugh, and be myself without feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff.
I stole a glance at him as he drove—the easy way he held the steering wheel, the warmth in his profile. Something fluttered in my chest. Something I hadn't expected.
He was handsome. I'd noticed that before, of course. But now I found myself noticing more. The way his jaw curved. Wrinkles accumulating in the corners of the eyes when he laughed. The broadness of his shoulders beneath his tailored shirt.
And more than that—he was kind. The type of man who could be a father to two little girls who deserved one.
I turned to look out the window, swallowing hard against the ache rising in my throat.
Even if I let Xander into the twins' lives, what place would I ever have in his? His world was Bianca and billion-dollar deals. I would always be the inconvenient secret. The complication. The woman who didn't quite fit.
But God, I was tired of being alone. Tired of handling everything myself, of lying awake at night with no one to share the weight. I wanted someone to look at me the way Archie was starting to—unpacable desire and reliability.
Archie pulled the car to the curb a block from the building and turned to look at me.
"Daphne." His voice was quiet, his hazel eyes searching my face. "I need you to know that I'm not playing games here. What I feel for you… it's real."
I didn't know what to say, so I just looked at him—really looked.
The afternoon light caught the gold flecks in his eyes, softening his features. He wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding anything. His gaze held mine for a long moment, warm and patient. Then it dropped, just briefly, to my lips.
When his eyes lifted again, there was a question there. A hope.
I felt my own gaze drift downward, tracing the curve of his mouth before I could stop myself. My heart beat faster.
Archie leaned closer, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. His hand came up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. I could feel his breath, warm against my skin.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, "and I will."
I didn't tell him to stop.
He closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine with a tenderness that made my chest ache. The kiss was gentle, unhurried—asking rather than demanding.
He pulled back slowly, his eyes finding mine again, searching for conflict or reluctance. When he found none, he kissed me again. Softer this time, more certain.
I let myself sink into it—into something simple, something present.
Something that didn't carry five years of complicated history and cruel ex wandering around.