Chapter 7 The Rules of Closeness

CHAPTER SEVEN

The night after their kiss, something shifted.

Elias was quieter-but not with distance. With focus. He moved around her as if aware of every inch she took up. He cooked again. Sat across from her during breakfast. Fixed a broken step on the third-floor landing like it had been bothering him for months but now suddenly mattered.

Anika noticed everything.

The way he no longer avoided eye contact. The way his hand brushed hers when they passed a dish. The way he listened when she spoke. Not just to her words-but the spaces between them.

But there were still rules.

Unspoken ones.

They slept in separate rooms.

He disappeared for hours at a time with no explanation.

He never spoke about the girl in the photograph.

Anika honored those silences-for now.

She spent the morning working on the guest suite, repainting samples across the walls. The rhythm helped. But her mind kept drifting to him.

And when she heard footsteps in the hallway, she smiled before even seeing him.

"You always know where I am," she teased.

Elias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. "You're not hard to track. You hum when you paint."

She flushed. "I do not."

He walked in, took a slow glance at her test swatches, then pointed. "This one. Warm sand. Works with the light."

She blinked. "You know color theory?"

He shrugged. "I've seen a lot of walls."

She studied him, the calm in his presence. "Why are you still here, Elias?"

His brows lifted. "I live here."

"That's not what I meant."

A beat of silence passed. Then:

"I should have left that night," he said. "Before the storm. Before you."

"But you didn't."

He met her eyes. "No. I didn't."

Her voice dropped. "And now?"

He stepped closer, took her paint-stained fingers in his.

"I'm trying to remember how to stay," he said softly. "But I need time."

Anika nodded. "Then take it. But don't shut me out."

His grip tightened just slightly. "I won't. Not if you're still here tomorrow."

"I'll be here," she promised.

Later that evening, they sat outside on the back porch, watching mist roll off the garden stones. Anika leaned into his shoulder.

He didn't move away.

In fact, he slipped his arm around her.

And she knew: maybe he wouldn't say it yet. Maybe he was still learning how. But Elias Black was choosing her, one quiet day at a time.

And that meant everything.