I went to the sitting room, blinking, and found Damian already awake.

He was perched at the small table by the window, carefully unpacking a breakfast order he'd clearly had delivered earlier-pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee steaming in mugs.

He glanced up and caught my gaze, his half-smile lazy, but it made my chest tighten.

"Morning," he said softly.

"Morning," I replied, like I didn't just see the texts from Isla, whoever that is.

He slid a plate toward me. "Thought we could eat before ...