The night air was cool, carrying the scent of dew and distant jasmine. Cordella had shooed them out of the house, insisting that Dalton walk Angelena back to the guest cottage on the other side of the garden.
They walked side by side on the gravel path, the moonlight casting long, silver shadows across the lawn. The silence was different now-heavier, charged with an unspoken tension.
Dalton spoke first, his voice low. "Are you okay? About tonight."
He didn't have to specify what he meant. The ghost at the dinner table.
Angelena stopped walking. She turned to face him, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. "I'm great, Dalton. Better than I've been in years."
She looked up at him, her eyes dark and serious. "Honestly, I should thank Gorden."
Dalton's body went rigid. His hands curled into fists at his sides. A sudden, violent surge of anger ripped through him-anger at his brother, anger at the situation.
Angelena didn't seem to notice. She continued, her voice light, almost casual. "If he hadn't broken my heart, I wouldn't have gone to Europe. I wouldn't have found baking. I wouldn't have realized that there's more to life than chasing someone who doesn't want me."
It was a eulogy for her past self, delivered with a shrug.
Dalton's anger evaporated, leaving behind a hollow ache. He felt guilty for his momentary rage. He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw a woman who had rebuilt herself from the ground up.
"Anyway," Angelena said, her tone shifting to something brighter, more playful. "I need to go shopping tomorrow. Fifth Avenue. I need to stock up on some essentials for the new place."
She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Dr. Barron, do you have time to supervise a little 'rehabilitative social training' for a recovering hermit?"
Dalton stared at her. He was a cardiac surgeon. His schedule was booked solid for months. Shopping was his personal hell. He should say no. He had a conference call at ten. He had charts to review.
He opened his mouth to refuse.
"Please?" she added, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. Her eyes were wide, pleading, and impossibly hopeful.
The word 'no' died in his throat. He couldn't crush that hope. He didn't want to.
"Okay," he said. The word felt foreign on his tongue.
Angelena's face broke into a wide grin. "Yes! Tomorrow at ten. Don't be late!"
She turned and practically skipped toward the cottage door. She waved once before disappearing inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
Dalton stood alone on the path. He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen. He opened his calendar and deleted the 'Conference Call' block for tomorrow morning. Then he opened a new text to his assistant.
Contact a top-tier personal shopper. Give them Miss Barlow's measurements and preferences. Arrange a private viewing at Bergdorf's tomorrow at ten.
He stared at the message, feeling like an absolute idiot. He hit send anyway.
