By nightfall, twilight spilled across the pines in melted gold, and the first stars blinked into the navy sky above Monte Luna. Justin finally arrived just as the last of the firewood was stacked, and Anne practically lit up like the flames they'd soon ignite.
"You made it," she said, her voice brighter than the flickering lanterns hung from the porch.
"Wouldn't miss it," Justin said with a grin, pulling her into a warm hug. "Looks like paradise. Smells like garlic."
Laughter followed. They all got busy—gathering wood, prepping food, uncorking wine. Everyone moved with ease as if the mountain air had dulled all their sharp edges.
Everyone, except Adam.
He stood back, arms crossed, more like a bored CEO waiting for a board meeting than a man at a bonfire. His expensive sweater looked absurdly clean for the setting. And he looked painfully out of place—like a statue dropped into a warm family photo.
Sofia noticed.
