Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 27

Lydia POV

I blame hormones.

And ovulation.

And Satan.

Definitely not myself.

“You highlighted this section twice,” he said quietly.

I swallowed.

“What?”

He pointed at the screen.

“This.” His voice dropped lower. “The part about rebuilding credibility through consistent action instead of reaction.”

“Oh,” I said intelligently.

Brilliant contribution, Lydia.

Absolutely Pulitzer worthy.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to look at the screen instead of the fact that he was still entirely too close.

“Yes,” I said, trying to sound normal and not like my pulse had suddenly become a public emergency. “Because that’s usually where most people fail. They think one grand gesture can repair a trust issue when actually it’s repetition that changes perception.” 1

He was quiet for a second.

Then he said,

“That’s brilliant.”

My fingers stopped moving.

I turned to look at him.

And immediately regretted it.

Because his face was right there.

Too near.

Too male.

Too unfairly beautiful for a man with this little emotional range.

“What?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His gaze stayed on mine.

“The framework,” he said. “It’s smart.”

1/7

I stared at him.

And for one genuinely ridiculous second, I forgot how to reply.

Not because he had said anything groundbreaking.

But because I wasn’t used to hearing approval from his mouth directed at me.

Not unless it was accidental.

“Thanks,” I said eventually.

It came out softer than I intended.

His eyes flicked over my face again, slower this time.

Then he asked,

“Do you have more?”

I blinked.

“More what?”

“Your work.”

That caught me off guard.

“My… coursework?”

“Yes.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Because I want to see it.”

Suspicion returned immediately.

Naturally.

Because what did he mean he wanted to see it?

Who authorized this character development? 2

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No.”

“You’re acting strange.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I looked at him harder.

He still looked wrecked.

+15 Bonus

2/7

Still looked off.

But now there was something else there too.

Something quieter.

Less guarded.

And somehow, that made him more dangerous.

I hesitated.

Then slowly turned the laptop fully toward him and opened my project folders.

He shifted from the armchair to the sofa beside me without asking.

Again: too close.

Again: deeply unnecessary.

And for the next twenty minutes, I walked him through everything.

My strategy drafts. 1

My mock crisis response templates.

A stakeholder communication matrix I was embarrassingly proud of.

A campaign recovery outline.

Even my notes on audience trust behavior and narrative repair.

At first, I expected him to lose interest after five minutes.

He didn’t.

He kept asking questions.

Specific ones.

Real ones.

Not the fake “I’m being polite” kind.

The kind that meant he was actually reading.

Actually thinking.

1

Actually taking me seriously.

And I hated how much that affected me.

At some point, I forgot to be defensive.

ཇ ༼༣༽

+15 8çnus

Forgot to be irritated.

Forgot, briefly, that this was the same man who had reduced my merger analysis to a “school case study” a few days ago.

Because right now, sitting beside me with his sleeves rolled up and his attention fixed entirely on my work, he

3/7

+15 Bonus

looked like someone I had never actually met before.

And that was a problem.

A very stupid problem.

Because this version of Dave?

This version was easier to like.

Dangerously easier.