Chapter 256: Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty-Three – Just a Few Minutes

Willow asked the question casually, the way she asked most things these days, without loading it with expectation.

"Do you want to grab a quick lunch," she said, leaning against the kitchen counter while Zane rinsed a bottle in the sink. "Nothing fancy. Just something easy."

He glanced over his shoulder, considering it. The morning had moved gently, without friction. The house felt settled, the kind of quiet that came from routines holding instead of stretching. Zana was upstairs with the nanny, bath time in progress, her delighted shrieks echoing faintly through the house as water splashed against tile.

"I was planning on leftovers," he said. "But lunch out sounds better."

Willow smiled. "Good. I also need to stop by the mall. Just a quick errand."

He turned off the tap and dried his hands. "What kind of errand?"

"I dropped off my grandmother’s bracelet a couple of days ago. The clasp needed fixing. They said it would be ready today."

"Then yes," he said easily. "Lunch and mall. Very glamorous."

"Try to contain your excitement, Mr. Reyes," she replied, amused.

Upstairs, Zana’s voice rose again, full of indignant commentary, followed by a splash loud enough to suggest she was winning whatever argument she was having with the bathwater. The nanny’s laughter followed, warm and unbothered, already familiar with defeat.

"She’s declaring independence already," Zane said, glancing toward the stairs. "Like her mother."

"She does that daily," Willow answered. "Usually before breakfast."

They went upstairs together. Steam curled faintly into the hallway, carrying the clean scent of soap and something citrusy. The bathroom door stood open. Zana sat in the tub, arms slapping the water with deliberate enthusiasm, droplets flying everywhere except where they were meant to go.

"No, no, gentle," the nanny said, laughing despite herself. "We splash inside the tub."

Zana responded by splashing harder.

Zane leaned against the doorframe. "She’s very committed to her position."

Zana noticed them and squealed, a bright, triumphant sound. She slapped the water again, then pointed at Willow, babbling urgently as if reporting a serious offense.

"Yes," Willow said solemnly. "I see. That is unacceptable."

Zana beamed.

She allowed herself to be lifted from the tub with minimal protest, dripping and slippery, her hair plastered to her head. She wriggled happily as the towel wrapped around her, continuing to narrate the experience in urgent syllables. When she finally looked up, her clear blue eyes, unmistakably her father’s, sparkled as they moved between Willow and Zane, alert and curious, as if checking that both were still exactly where they belonged.

"There you are," Zane said quietly.

Zana answered by smacking the towel with a damp hand.

"That is not a promise," Willow said.

The nanny adjusted her grip. "We’ll get dressed and then lunch. Something with fruit."

Zana immediately twisted toward the hallway, making a determined escape attempt.

"Betrayal," Zane told her mildly.

Willow crouched and kissed Zana’s damp forehead. "We’re going out for a bit."

Zana paused, studying her with serious concentration, blue eyes intent. Then she made a bubbling sound that could have meant goodbye or hurry back or I have terms.

"We’ll be back soon," Willow said.

Zana responded with another emphatic noise and slapped the towel again for emphasis.

They left her mid monologue, the nanny laughing as she carried her away, water still dripping onto tile.

The house settled behind them.

The car ride felt light.

The air conditioning hummed steadily, fighting a losing battle against the late May heat that had already settled over Atlanta. Outside, the sun sat high and unapologetic, bright enough to bleach color from the pavement and make the sidewalks shimmer. Even with the windows up, warmth pressed faintly against the glass.

Willow shifted in her seat, adjusting the light linen dress where it clung slightly to her legs. It was a soft dusty blue, sleeveless and simply cut at the knee. The kind of dress chosen without much thought because it worked. Comfortable enough to move easily, neat enough to look intentional. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, managed rather than styled in deference to the humidity.

Zane drove with one hand on the wheel, relaxed. He wore a light gray short sleeved button down with the cuffs rolled once. The fabric showed faint creases from earlier in the morning, the collar already slightly damp despite the cool air in the car. His jeans were dark and familiar. His sunglasses rested unused at his neckline.

"She’s going to flood the bathroom one day," Willow said.

"She already has," Zane replied. "We’re just discovering it in stages."

Traffic moved easily. The sky was clear, pale blue. Willow watched storefronts and pedestrians pass, then turned toward him.

"So," she said. "Lunch."

"Something fast," he replied. "I have zero patience today."

She smiled. "You always say that right before you spend twenty minutes deciding."

"That’s not indecision," he said. "That’s strategic contemplation."

"Of soup menus?"

"Soup is serious."

They debated sandwiches versus pasta, something warm versus something crisp. Zane suggested the place near the mall with the flatbread she liked. Willow countered with the café that did good soup, the one that stayed quiet even at noon.

"You just want soup," he said.

"I want soup," she confirmed. "And bread. And quiet."

"That’s three demands."

"I contain multitudes."

He reached over briefly to rest his hand on her knee before returning it to the wheel. It was an unconscious gesture, familiar and grounding.

"You’re in a mood," he said.

"I’m hungry."

"That explains everything."

They passed a stretch of trees heavy with new leaves, the green dense and already summer thick. The city felt alive in that particular Atlanta way, cars moving steadily, people out despite the heat, patio umbrellas already open even though it was not quite lunchtime.

"I should have worn something else," Willow said.

"You look fine."

"That is not the same as being comfortable."

He glanced at her briefly, then back to the road. "You are never comfortable in heat."

"I tolerate it."

"That sounds about right."

Traffic slowed near an intersection, the light holding longer than expected. Zane tapped his fingers once on the steering wheel, more habit than impatience.

"You remember when this time of year still felt light," Willow asked. "Before everything started to feel heavy."

"Humidity does that," he said. "Responsibility helps."

She reached over and gave his arm a light, playful tap. "I was talking about the weather."

He shifted slightly in his seat as if wounded. "Of course you were."

The car moved again. Willow adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. It was lighter than usual, holding only the essentials. Wallet, phone, keys. Nothing she did not expect to need.

"You are very confident this is going to be quick," Zane said.

"It is quick," Willow replied. "Bracelet, lunch, done."

"And then."

"And then we go home before Zana finds another way to cover herself in something that requires another bath."

"She is ambitious."

"She takes after you."

Zane straightened slightly, clearly pleased despite himself. "I object to that."

They passed the mall exit sign, the parking structure already visible ahead. Heat radiated off the concrete, the air above it wavering faintly.

Zane signaled and turned in, the shade of the structure swallowing the car almost immediately. The temperature dropped a few degrees, enough to be noticeable, though the warmth lingered in the concrete.

Willow let out a breath. "That helps."

"For now," Zane said.

They rolled past parked cars, footsteps echoing somewhere above them, voices drifting down in fragments. Zane pulled into their usual spot and shut off the engine.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The quiet felt ordinary and familiar.

Zane reached for his phone and paused when it buzzed again. He watched the screen for a second longer than necessary.

"Sorry," he said. "I need to take this."

"It’s fine," Willow replied. "Take the call."

"I can step out if you want."

She shook her head. "No. I’ll be gone a few minutes at most. I just need to pick up the bracelet."

"You’re sure?"

"Yes." She adjusted the strap of her bag. "Finish up, I will come meet you back here. We’ll head to the café after."

"The quiet one near the entrance," he said.

"That one," she confirmed.

He nodded, already lifting the phone. "Text me if it takes longer."

"I will."

She leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, brief and familiar. He turned slightly toward her without thinking, she kissed him again briefly on his lips.

"Be right back," she said softly.

"I’ll be here," he replied.

She opened the door and stepped out, letting it close gently behind her as he answered the call.

The heat rushed back in immediately. The concrete radiated upward, the air thicker here. Willow smoothed her dress and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

As she walked toward the mall entrance, the sounds of the city layered around her. Footsteps, distant engines, someone laughing nearby.