"Positive. Go enjoy your last month of living separately."
They leave with promises to stop by the restaurant later this week, and then it's just Levi, me, Granddad Jim, and my mom.
"I should get going too," Mom says, standing. "Early shift tomorrow."
I walk her to the door, and she pulls me into a tight hug.
"I love you so much," she whispers. "And I'm so, so proud of you."
"I love you too, Mom."
She pulls back and cups my face. "He's a good man, Maya. Hold onto him."
"I plan to."
She leaves, and when I return to the dining room, Granddad Jim is also gathering his things.
"This was wonderful," he tells Levi, pulling him into a hug. "Your grandmother would be over the moon."
"Thanks, Granddad."
Jim turns to me next, enveloping me in a hug that smells like coffee and Old Spice. "Take care of my boy, Maya. And don't let him work himself to death."
"I'll do my best."
"That's all I ask." He steps back, eyes twinkling. "And Levi? Don't be stupid like your brother. Don't wait fifteen years to lock this one down."
"Granddad—"
"Just saying." He heads for the door, chuckling to himself.
And then we're alone.
Levi and I stand in the middle of the dining room, surrounded by the remnants of the meal, and the silence feels comfortable rather than awkward.
"Come here," Levi says softly, holding out his hand.
I cross to him and let him pull me close, his arms wrapping around me. We sway slightly, even though there's no music, just the hum of the refrigerators in the kitchen and the settling sounds of the building.
"This was perfect," I murmur against his chest.
"It was." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Thank you for being part of it."
"Thank you for letting me be part of it."
We stand like that for a long moment, holding each other in the restaurant we've built together, surrounded by the evidence of a successful day.
"Maya?"
"Hmm?"
"I know it's only been a month. And I know we said we'd take things slow and be smart about this." He pulls back enough to look at me, his expression serious. "But I need you to know... this isn't casual for me. You're not casual for me."
My heart pounds. "You're not casual for me either."
"Good." He cups my face in his hands, those scarred, capable hands that create beautiful food and touch me with such tenderness. "Because I'm falling in love with you. Probably already have fallen. And I wanted you to know."
The words settle over me like a warm blanket, and I realize I've been waiting to hear them, needing to know I wasn't alone in this feeling.