Serena’s POV
"Ryan?" I practically jumped out of my chair, heart racing at the sight of him standing there. God, I’d missed that face so much. "You’re here? In London?"
My mind was racing with a thousand questions, but my body just wanted to rush into his arms. Several days apart had felt like an eternity, and seeing him suddenly appear in front of sent waves of happiness coursing through .
Cedric’s expression darkened beside , his previously relaxed deanor instantly vanishing. I could feel the tension radiating from him, but honestly, I barely registered it. My eyes were locked on Ryan.
Ryan’s jaw was tight, his eyes flickering between and Cedric with barely contained displeasure. He took a controlled breath before speaking. "I ca to take you for your dical follow-up."
I bit my lip, suddenly rembering Cedric’s presence. As much as I wanted to leave imdiately with Ryan, I couldn’t just abandon Cedric mid-lunch. After all, this al was ant to thank him for his help with Fashion Week arrangents.
"Did you just land?" I asked, trying to find a compromise. "Why don’t you join us for lunch first? We can go to the hospital afterward."
"Mr. Blackwood, please do join us," Cedric interjected smoothly, though his eyes betrayed his annoyance. "Serena and I were just comnting on how excellent the food is here. Consider it your welco to London."
"How generous of you," Ryan replied with a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’d be delighted to join."
The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, but I was too happy seeing him to care about the obvious tension between the n. Ryan slid into the seat next to , his thigh pressing against mine under the table.
"Ryan, how is Vivian? Is she okay? Who’s looking after her?" The questions tumbled out of as soon as he sat down. "I didn’t expect you to co all this way."
"Everything’s fine," Ryan said, his voice softening considerably when addressing . His hand found mine under the table, our fingers intertwining instantly. "Vivian is perfect. Mrs. Patterson has everything under control."
I couldn’t stop smiling, drinking in every detail of his face. God, I’d missed him more than I’d realized. It had only been a few days, but it felt like coming up for air after being underwater too long. The rest of the restaurant seed to fade away—Cedric included.
Across the table, Cedric cleared his throat and lifted his cup. "Mr. Blackwood must be quite busy running Blackwood Group. When are you planning to return to New York?"
I hadn’t even thought about Ryan leaving again, but Cedric’s question brought crashing back to reality. Ryan had just arrived, and already Cedric was asking about his departure.
"Are you that eager to see leave, Mr. Lancaster?" Ryan asked, his voice deceptively casual but laced with ice.
Cedric took a slow sip of his tea. "Just making conversation."
The lunch that followed was nothing like the nostalgic trip down mory lane Cedric had probably envisioned. The conversation was strained, with Ryan’s arm possessively around my waist and Cedric’s increasingly forced smiles. I knew Cedric had planned to take for a walk around our old university campus afterward, but those plans evaporated the mont Ryan ntioned the dical checkup.
I felt a twinge of guilt about leaving Cedric, but it was quickly overshadowed by my excitent to spend ti with Ryan. My husband had flown across an ocean just to see —the thought made my heart flutter ridiculously.
After lunch, Ryan whisked away to the hospital for my checkup. In the taxi, my hand never left his.
"Have you been working too hard?" he asked, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "You look tired."
I shook my head, unable to stop smiling. "Not at all. Don’t worry—you heard the doctor, my recovery is right on track."
"The doctor also said you need rest," Ryan pointed out, his lips quirking into that half-smile that always made my stomach flip. "Which part of that didn’t register?"
"I heard every word, Mr. Blackwood," I teased back. "I promise I’ll be back in New York as soon as Fashion Week is over and the studio is stable."
He nodded, bringing my hand to his lips. "Good. Vivian and I will be waiting for you at ho."
"Ho," I repeated softly, loving how right that sounded.
Back at my temporary office, Ryan settled into the corner sofa while I tried to focus on work. It was nearly impossible with him there, his presence magnetic. I kept finding excuses to walk past him, to touch his shoulder, to ask his opinion on things he knew nothing about.
By sunset, I decided enough was enough and closed my laptop earlier than planned.
"Let’s go," I said, grabbing my bag. "I’m taking you to dinner."
Ryan stood, his hand automatically finding the small of my back. "Have you visited your family yet? Why don’t we go to the Quinn house tonight?"
I hesitated briefly. I’d been avoiding going ho partly because I knew they’d insist I rest more. But now that Ryan was here, and most of the major Fashion Week decisions had been made, a visit seed perfect.
We picked up gifts on the way—a bottle of my father’s favorite whiskey and flowers for my mother. When we arrived, only my mother Hazel was ho; everyone else was still working.
"Serena!" My mother practically ran to the door, enveloping in a tight hug. "Let look at you properly."
The concern in her eyes made feel guilty for not visiting sooner. "Mom, I’m fine, really. We just ca from a checkup."
I pulled out the dical papers from my bag like a child bringing ho a good report card. "See? Ryan was there too—he can confirm everything’s perfect."
"Thank goodness," Mom sighed, relief softening her features. "You’ve been through so much, sweetheart."
"Where’s my granddaughter?" Mom asked, peering around us as if Vivian might be hiding sowhere.
"I’m actually here for work," I admitted. "Opening the London branch of Dreamland. Ryan just flew in today to surprise —he’s heading back tomorrow."
Mom gave an exasperated look. "Already working? And you," she turned to Ryan, "why aren’t you making her rest?"
"Mom!" I protested, feeling like a teenager again. "This was my decision, not Ryan’s. Besides, didn’t you always say a woman should have her own career?"
She sighed in that way only mothers can, acknowledging defeat. "You Quinns are all the sa—workaholics to the core. Sit down, both of you. I’ll call your father and sister and have dinner prepared."
We settled into the familiar living room sofa, my head naturally finding its place on Ryan’s shoulder. Being ho felt right—safe and comfortable in a way nowhere else could match.
Eleanor arrived first, sweeping into the room with her usual energy. "Serena! I can’t believe you’re already launching the London branch!"
I laughed, suddenly realizing how much I’d missed my sister. "Well, you’ve been back in London for ages now. I’m just catching up."
"Always pushing yourself too hard," she said, shaking her head, but her proud smile told she understood. "At least you look healthy—so I’ll spare you the lecture."
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