Chapter 8 Family dinner
Melissa’s POV
I showered fast, then threw on jeans and a cream sweater that slipped off one shoulder. I dried my hair with a towel until it hung in messy, damp waves down my back. With a little makeup to cover the dark shadows under my eyes. One deep breath.
Then I headed downstairs.
Voices floated up from below. Mom’s laugh rang out, light and happy, filling every corner of the house. Gavin answered her but I couldn’t hear his words.
The dining room appeared as I reached the bottom step. There was a long glass table. With different dishes in the middle. The smell of warm pastries and fresh coffee hit me, making my stomach rumble even though I felt too nervous to eat.
Then I saw Gavin standing at the head of the table. With dark pants. White shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
God, he looked good.
Really good.
The shirt fit him perfectly across his shoulders. His forearms were strong and tan. His dark hair was still a bit wet…he must have just gotten out of the shower too. Those ice-blue eyes of his stared down at the coffee pot. His jawline was sharp, freshly shaved.
He didn’t look his age. He seemed younger somehow, but also… not. There was something about the way he carried himself. Confidence. Controlled. Like he’d already figured out life while the rest of us were still stumbling around.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad. Untouchable. Perfect.
My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought he might hear it.
Then his eyes lifted. Finding mine. And everything just stopped.
The air between us felt heavy and thick. His gaze locked onto mine and didn’t let go. One second. Two. Then he looked away. Reached for the coffee pot.
I couldn’t breathe properly.
“Melissa!” Mom spun around, smiling big. “Perfect timing, sweetie. Come sit.”
I made my legs work. I walked over. Each step felt like wading through water. I dropped into the chair farthest from him.
Gavin poured coffee into three cups for each of us. His hands moved slowly, carefully. His face gave away nothing.
The house felt so empty around us. I’d noticed it over the past few days… There were no maids rushing around like I expected from a typical rich man home. No cleaning staff. Mom had mentioned they only came once each morning. Gavin didn’t like people in his space. He wanted quiet and privacy.
Right now, all that silence pressed down on me.
Mom sat between us.
Nobody spoke as we ate. My stomach twisted into knots. The food tasted like nothing.
“So,” Mom said, her voice sounding a little too cheerful. “Did you both sleep okay?”
“Fine,” Gavin said.
“Yeah, good,” I mumbled.
More silence. Mom’s smile looked forced now. She cut her croissant into tiny pieces, concentrating way too hard on it.
I felt terrible. This was my fault. All of it. The weirdness, the tension…it all came back to what happened between us.
I reached for the jam jar. So did Gavin.
Our fingers touched.
A jolt shot through me. Like touching a live wire.
We both jerked our hands back.
“Sorry,” I whispered. Heat rushed to my face.
“Go ahead,” he said. No emotion in his voice at all.
Mom’s eyes jumped from me to him and back again. Worry creased her forehead. She didn’t say anything though.
I grabbed the jam with shaking hands. Spread some on my croissant. My heart still pounded from that tiny touch. I wanted to sink through the floor and disappear.
Mom cleared her throat. “I heard the weather’s supposed to be…”
Gavin’s phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen. Something changed in his face. Just slightly.
Work stuff, probably. I wondered what kind of meeting. What his day looked like. Hockey practice? Team stuff? Business meetings?
“I’ve got an early meeting,” he said suddenly. His chair screeched back as he stood. “Excuse me.”
He left without looking at us.
I watched him walk away. The question almost burst out of me…Can I come see what you do?
I bit down on my tongue. Hard.
No. I couldn’t ask that. We weren’t… we couldn’t…
His footsteps faded down the hallway. A door clicked shut somewhere far off.
Sadness dropped over me like a heavy blanket. Pressing down on my chest until it ached.
Mom’s shoulders slumped. She stared at her half-eaten breakfast for a while. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes were sad.
“Melissa, honey…” She reached over and grabbed my hand. Squeezed it. Her hand felt warm and safe. “Thank you for coming down to eat with us today. I know it’s been… hard.”
Guilt stabbed through me. I’d been hiding upstairs. Skipping meals and I know it’s making everything worse for her.
“Mom, I’m so sorry…” My voice came out broken.
“No, don’t.” Her smile was gentle but her eyes looked worried. “You need your space. I get it. But I’ve missed you.” She paused, then her face brightened…like she was forcing herself to be positive. “What if we do something together? Just us? We could go shopping? Get out of the house for a bit?”
She was trying so hard. She could tell something was wrong between Gavin and me…even if she didn’t know what. And she was doing her best to fix it somehow.
“Yeah,” I managed to say. “That sounds really nice.”
“Good.” Her smile looked more real now. Some of the worry left her eyes. “Maybe this weekend?”
I nodded. I didn't trust myself to say more. If I tried to talk, I might start crying.
Mom stood up and started gathering the plates. I jumped up to help. We worked together quietly. Just the soft clink of dishes. Our footsteps on the floor.
The house felt so empty. So quiet.
My mind kept going back to Gavin. How good he looked standing there in that white shirt. The way our hands had touched. How I’d wanted to ask about his work, his day, his life.
The ache in my chest when he walked away.