She dropped her hand, exhaling slowly. "Okay, maybe a little. But Leo..."
"And the way he said proper welco," Leo continued, his voice gaining montum. "Who says that? What does that even an? Proper welco. Like there’s an improper welco and he chose the proper one. Which is still inappropriate, apparently."
Bella tilted her head. "You really don’t like him."
"I don’t trust him," Leo corrected again, but this ti the words carried sothing heavier. "There’s a difference. I don’t trust n who touch what’s mine and smile while doing it."
Bella’s heart softened. She reached out and took his hand, threading her fingers through his. "I’m not his," she said quietly. "I’m yours."
Leo looked down at their joined hands. His thumb moved slowly over her knuckles.
"I know," he said after a long pause. His voice was quieter now. "But he doesn’t. And he needs to."
Bella squeezed his hand. "Then tell him. Not with violence. Just... clearly."
A short, humorless exhale. "Where’s the fun in that?"
She gave him a look.
He sighed, the fight draining from his shoulders just slightly. "Fine. I’ll be civil."
"Civil," she repeated.
"Don’t push it."
She smiled softly and lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "Thank you."
Leo watched her, his dark eyes slowly losing their edge. His thumb traced one more circle against her skin.
"...He still has a rat face."
Bella laughed. Really laughed this ti, the sound light and warm in the quiet room.
"Okay," she said. "Maybe just a little."
"Let’s not talk about him anymore," Leo murmured, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her closer. His cheek pressed against the soft fabric of her sweater, resting against her stomach like she was the only anchor keeping him from drifting into that dark, coiled anger. "Every ti I think of him, my temper rises. Let’s talk about us."
Bella’s fingers found their way back into his hair, threading gently through the thick waves. "About us?"
"Yes." His voice was muffled against her, warm and low. "You and . In this room. No work between us. Nothing." He tilted his head slightly, his jaw brushing against her sweater. "No rat face outside. Just this room. All day. All night." His hands tightened just slightly around her waist, the aning behind his words slipping into sothing deeper.
Bella felt heat creep up her neck. "Aww, how cute," she said, her tone soft but teasing. She swatted the back of his head lightly, barely a tap. "But impossible."
Leo pulled back just enough to look up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Impossible?"
"Yes, impossible." She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at him with mock sternness. "We’re here, Leo. This place is beautiful. The mountains, the forest, the..." she gestured vaguely toward the balcony, "the entire wedding atmosphere. We’re going to enjoy it."
"I can enjoy you," he said flatly. "Right here. In this very comfortable bed."
Bella’s lips twitched. "Nice try."
"I’m not trying. I’m proposing a logical alternative."
"There’s nothing logical about hiding in a bedroom for an entire wedding weekend."
"Of course there is." He leaned back on his elbows, looking up at her with that infuriatingly calm, reasonable expression. "The resort is crowded. People will want to talk to us. Shake hands. Have conversations." His tone made the word conversations sound like a form of torture. "Staying here eliminates all of that."
"And also eliminates seeing Hazel get married. And the mountains. And the food, which I’ve been told is incredible."
"We can order room service."
Bella stared at him.
Leo stared back, completely serious.
"You," she said slowly, "are impossible."
"You married ."
"A decision I’m currently reconsidering."
His eyes flickered with sothing dangerously close to amusent. "No, you’re not."
She held his gaze for a beat. Then her composure cracked, a smile breaking through despite her best efforts. "No," she admitted. "I’m not."
Leo reached out and tugged her wrist gently, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. She landed with a soft bounce, laughing despite herself.
"But we’re still going to the wedding," she said firmly, even as she settled against his side.
He sighed, the sound long and resigned. "Fine."
"And the rehearsal dinner."
A longer sigh. "...Fine."
"And the welco party tonight."
Silence.
"Leo."
"...Fine."
She smiled, victorious, and tucked herself closer against him. His arm ca around her automatically, his hand resting warm on her hip.
"But I’m not talking to Nicolas," he said quietly.
"Nobody asked you to."
"And I’m not smiling at him."
"You never smile at anyone."
He paused. "...Fair."
Outside, the wind moved through the pines, a soft, steady whisper. Inside, the warmth of the room wrapped around them, golden and quiet.
Bella traced idle patterns on his chest. "You know," she said softly, "for soone who claims to hate weddings, you traveled twenty hours to attend one."
Leo was quiet for a mont. Then, slowly, "It’s Hazel."
The simplicity of it, the quiet weight behind her na, made Bella’s heart ache. She didn’t push. She just let her fingers continue their slow, soothing path across his shirt.
"She’s lucky to have you," Bella whispered. "As a brother."
Another pause. Longer this ti.
"...I’m lucky she puts up with ," he said finally, his voice barely audible.
Bella lifted her head to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his expression carefully neutral. But his hand, still resting on her hip, had tightened just slightly.
She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw.
"We don’t have to go to the party right away," she murmured against his skin. "We still have a few hours."
Leo turned his head slowly, his gray eyes eting hers. The storm in them had quieted, replaced by sothing warr, sothing that was only for her.
"A few hours," he repeated.
She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "A few hours."
His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her closer.
"Logical," he murmured.
"Very logical," she agreed.
And for the next few hours, the rat face outside was completely, utterly forgotten.
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